Page 57 of The Duchess and the Beast
“How so?” Virtue reached for the saucer. She gently blew on the surface of the tea to cool it, bringing it to her nose and sniffing cautiously, her expression betraying her intrigue at the unusual aroma.
“Well, the package arrived here the precise day it was labeled to arrive. Which makes little sense due to the great delays it supposedly encountered.”
“Curious...” She took a sip of the tea, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Very curious. And it was directly imported from China?”
“Supposedly. Though, again, there are no markings to suggest so.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice, “Do you believe His Grace was swindled to pay extra for some run-of-the-mill tea?”
Another sip, the same acrimonious taste. “I doubt it. Perhaps it was a fresh batch. Sebastian did say he would send a gift upon arriving at London. Besides, it tastes a touch like Hyson. Except… smokey. Gunpowder tea, perhaps? I have read of it but never tasted it myself. It is extremely strong, I must say. Have a sip.”
Lucy leaned back. “No thank you, my lady. Need I remind you, this is not a shared hobby, I think I shall stick to the ordinary black tea.”
Virtue giggled. She took another sip, a longer one this time, thinking that might help. But alas, it left the same extremely repugnant aftertaste on her tongue and in her throat. She put the saucer down and pushed it away. “No, I don’t think I care for it very much. It does not complement my palette at all. But if His Grace asks... we drank it all, all right? I do not wish him to think I was disappointed with his gift.”
“How congenial of you,” Lucy said dryly.
To that, Virtue laughed... only to wince as a sharp pain suddenly shot through her stomach. “Oh... I don’t think I care for it at all.”
“What is it?” Lucy’s faced clouded with concern
“It’s… it’s nothing.” Another sharp pain, like a dagger dicing her insides. “It is just...” She grimaced, pressing her hands against the spot on her abdomen where the pain persisted. “I think I am having a cramp—oh!” She yelped and doubled over.
“V!” Lucy sprang to her feet, coming by Virtue’s side.
“No, no, it’s fine—” Virtue shot out a hand to stop her, or would have, if the pain wasn’t too great. It felt as though an invisible force had taken hold of her intestines and was squeezing them, twisting them, tearing at them as if it had a vendetta. “It.... hurts... oh...”
“I’ll call for a physician!” Lucy announced, making for the door
“No!” Virtue’s voice was firm, despite her distress. “It’s fine... I’m fine... It must have been the tea, I’m sure it will pass…” Except, she barely managed to get the words out in a single breath. Worse, her body suddenly turned ice cold, while her forehead broke out in sweats. She trembled violently, face sweating, stomach hurting, body rebelling against her. “I am sure it’s nothing...” she murmured weakly.
“Don’t be foolish!” Lucy retorted, her voice thick with worry as she hovered on the spot, torn between seeking help and staying by her friend’s side. “Do not move.”
“Thank you for the advice—ow!” Virtue yelped as another spasm of pain seized her.
“I am sending for a physician now!” The maid spun on the spot, reaching for the door.
“Lucy!” Virtue cried out, ignoring the pain the best she could, teeth chattering now from the cold that seemed to envelop her entire being. “Sebastian...”
“He is not here!”
“Send for him,” she managed as the room began to spin about her. It was more than nausea, or the edges of an illness—it felt as if her very life force was ebbing away. She reclined back on the couch, the sharp pains subsiding into a chilling numbness, a deceptive calm beginning to envelop her. “Please... I would like to see him...”
“Virtue!” In a panic, Lucy rushed back to her side, falling to her knees and cradling Virtue's head. "Wake up! Please, wake up, V!"
“Good night, Lucy...” she said lazily, eyelids closing, body wilting into a heap. “Tell Sebastian that I... that I...”
And then there was nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sebastian urged his horse forward with relentless desperation under the cloak of a dark night, the rhythm of hooves against the earth echoing the rapid beat of his own heart. Each moment, he pushed the animal harder, his heels digging into its flanks, mingling whispered words of encouragement with the urgency of his mission.
The darkness shrouded the path ahead, making each step a blind leap of faith, but nothing could compel him to slow his pace—not until he could confirm with his own eyes that Virtue was safe.
His journey had been abruptly interrupted just hours outside of London, where he and Ralph had sought a brief respite at an inn on the city's outskirts. They were poised to delve into the city come morning to investigate the grim circumstances of Simon's death, but the night brought disruption to his plans—with a messenger bearing urgent news that gripped Sebastian’s soul with ice.
The messenger arrived with but a single piece of parchment. And the words etched upon it paled Sebastian’s cheeks and sent a chill down his spine, and then he turned and sprinted up the steps as if his life depended on it. A minute at most was spared to wake Ralph and inform him what was happening, then it was downstairs, onto his horse, dashing from the stables without bothering to even collect his things for there simply wasn’t time.
Ralph had indeed made every effort to dissuade Sebastian, following him all the way to the stables, his pleas filled with urgency and concern.