Taking the cup from her, Geary first sniffed, then dipped his finger into the damp residue.
“This tastes very much like ipecac,” he pronounced after a moment.
Eleanor looked at him in bewilderment, knowing ipeca
c was a powdered medication used to purge the stomach. “Are you certain?”
“Fairly so.”
“So his cup was not poisoned?”
“I do not believe so, no. Ipecac is relatively harmless-or at least not life-threatening.”
“But it could not have gotten there by accident.”
“No, most certainly its introduction to his cup would have been deliberate.”
Weakly, Eleanor sank down in one of the vacant chairs. “But why in heaven's name would a medication have been added to Prince Lazzara's punch?”
“It is a puzzle,” Mr. Geary agreed as he sat beside her. “Perhaps he is indeed the target of someone who wishes him ill, just as Wrexham suspected.”
She glanced curiously at the physician. “Lord Wrexham mentioned the prince's mishaps to you, Mr. Geary?”
The physician nodded. “He said that his highness has been beset by several mysterious misadventures of late. Perhaps you should tell Wrexham of this latest one, Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor didn't reply at once. In the first place, she wanted nothing more to do with Damon tonight, or in the foreseeable future, for that matter. In the second, he had likely left the ball by now. And third, even if she had wanted to solicit his help, she doubted he would be interested in helping the nobleman whom he seemed to consider-quite mistakenly, to her mind-his rival.
“I suspect Lord Wrexham would not care to involve himself with the prince's misfortunes,” she said finally.
“You might be surprised,” Geary responded. “He has spent the last several years concerning himself with the misfortunes of others.”
Her attention captured, Eleanor eyed him quizzically. “Misfortunes? What do you mean, Mr. Geary?”
“Well… perhaps the word ‘misfortunes’ is not quite accurate.”
“Then what would be accurate?”
“Affliction would be a better term.” When Eleanor's expression remained blank, Geary offered her a rueful smile of apology. “I mean the poor souls stricken by the scourge of consumption. Until now they have had little hope. But Wrexham has dedicated the last three years of his life to finding a cure, along with a significant portion of his fortune.”
Predictability may bore him. Dare to be different, to stand out from every other lady competing for his attention and affections. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…
Eleanor's brow furrowed. “I never realized that Lord Wrexham had any interest in the field of medicine.”
“You may have had no occasion to hear of his recent endeavors,” Mr. Geary replied. “Especially since they took place in Italy.”
“I thought he was taking a gentleman's tour of the Continent after the war's end.”
“No, my lady. Pleasure most certainly was not his aim.”
When the physician fell silent, Eleanor prodded him to explain. “Please continue, Mr. Geary. You have greatly piqued my curiosity.”
He searched her face as if debating how much to say. “You were aware that Lord Wrexham's twin brother died of consumption when they were mere youths?”
“I knew he had a twin who died, but not the cause of his death.”
“Well, Damon's brother Joshua contracted consumption when they were but sixteen.”
“How very sad,” Eleanor murmured.