Chapter 65: I Am With A Child
A couple hours later, inside Vincent’s bedchamber, Penelope finally presented the antidote to Vincent.
He was already in a thoroughly foul humor.
The royal physician had arrived a quarter-of-an-hour earlier than anticipated, rudely cutting short a rather passionate encounter between the Marquis and his wife.
While waiting for the final cure to be prepared, the pair had at least utilized the delay to wash away the grime of the day. Now properly bathed and dressed in far more comfortable, loose-fitting linen robes, Vincent had hoped for peace.
Instead, he was handed a glass vial.
Just a single breath of the rising vapors was enough to make him entirely reconsider his position.
"You know what? The venom doesn’t hurt that bad."
"Vince," Penelope warned, shooting him a scathing look. Behind her, standing at the edge of the bedpost, Elias let out a heavy sigh. He knew instantly that this was going to be an ordeal.
"I am not putting that anywhere near my mouth," Vincent declared, recoiling. "It smells like a bog-witch boiled a pair of rotting ride boots in the urine of a diseased mule. It won’t heal me. It will likely finish the job."
The estate physician, who was standing by the bedside basin, let out an involuntary snicker. He quickly coughed into his sleeve, pretending to clear his throat when all eyes in the chamber shifted sharply toward him.
Penelope looked back at Vincent.
"It is... it is not entirely intolerable," she lied through her teeth. Her words, however, lost all credibility given that she and Elias each had their noses firmly pinched beneath their handkerchiefs.
Vincent stared at them, a scowl forming on his pale face at the sheer hypocrisy.
How come he was the only one meant to perceive this?
He absolutely would not do this. There were limits to what a man of his standing should endure, and drinking liquid rot was well past the line.
"The pungent scent is actually proof of its potency, Lord Vincent," the physician offered, stepping forward with cautious diplomacy. "You must take the antidote if you wish to purge the remaining venom from your blood."
Penelope nodded quickly in agreement, turning a coaxing smile upon the stubborn invalid.
"Take it, Vince, please? Once it is over, Elias will have the kitchens bring up some candied fruits to take away the taste. Hm? Is that not right, Elias?"
She glanced back at Elias, who gave a solemn, dutiful nod from the shadows of the bedpost.
"In fact, I’ll go get it right away," said Elias before he hurried out of the chamber.
If Penelope were to be entirely honest with herself, the temporary antidote hadn’t possessed a scent half as foul as this concoction, not even close. This final cure smelled potent enough to peel the paint from the estate walls. Unfortunately, Vincent had no choice. He had to take it.
"Please, Vince?"
Vincent saw the soft plea in her eyes as she beckoned him to take the vial. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if the temporary antidote was addling his mind, for he felt absolutely no desire to play the matyr and swallow that monstrosity.
Yet, if he ever wished to be rid of this affliction, he would simply have to brace himself and endure it.
Elias returned shortly thereafter, bearing a small silver dish of candied fruits. Vincent exhaled a long, heavy breath, his gaze fixed on the vial Penelope extended toward him. He took the glass with a steadying sigh.
With one hand firmly pinching his nostrils shut, he threw his head back, opened his mouth, and drained the foul concoction in a single, agonizing gulp.
The sheer horror that contorted his features a second later very nearly sent all three onlookers into fits of laughter.
His face twisted into a mask of pure betrayal. Unable to speak through the sheer horror of the taste, Vincent frantically snapped his fingers at Elias, demanding the sweetmeat. Understanding the dire urgency of the crisis, Elias hurried forward and dropped a piece of the candied fruit directly into Penelope’s outstretched palm. With a practiced gentleness, she immediately popped it into her husband’s mouth.
The physician watched the entire spectacle unravel, utterly spellbound. Having served the Devereux for decades, he had never once witnessed this side of the formidable Marquis. The man who usually commanded armies and struck terror into the hearts of political rivals was currently wide-eyed, chewing frantically, and entirely at the mercy of his wife’s comforting hand.
It was a staggering sight. Yet, beneath the comedy of the moment, the physician noted it as a profoundly positive sign.
For the first time since the poisoning, the Marquis appeared entirely less guarded. He wasn’t wasting his precious strength trying to maintain his usual rigid, untouchable facade, nor was he pushing himself too hard.
A remarkable recovery of the spirit, if not yet the flesh, the physician mentally recorded, suppressing another smile as he watched the Marquis slowly stop grimacing.
When he finally relaxed, Penelope pressed her lace handkerchief tightly against her mouth to stifle her giggles, while the physician abruptly looked away like he was arranging his instruments.
Naturally, none of their mirth went unnoticed. Vincent glared at them over his sweet fruit, utterly loathing the fact that they were basking so openly in misery. He was certainly going to murder that assassin who put him in this condition.
"You did well," Penelope said, offering him a firm, approving pat on the shoulder. A heavy weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, and for the first time in the past two days, she could genuinely draw a relaxed breath. "You shall be back on your feet in no time."
"It appears the Caledonians are actively plotting my ruin," Vincent remarked, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur as his gaze drifted between his wife and his commander. "Their king is likely still furious over the border campaign."
Elias reached up, adjusting the bridge of his spectacles at the comment. "We cannot be entirely certain of the crown’s involvement just yet, Your Lordship. We have successfully escorted the assassin beyond the gates of Aelgard, but it may take a day or two to uncover precisely who is pulling his strings. Remarkably, the boy seems utterly oblivious to his uncle’s zealotry. He claims the man despised such extremists. Someone is quite brilliantly weaponizing the lad’s grief to their own advantage."
"He also boasted that he does not work alone," Penelope added, her expression hardening as she remembered their interaction in the cellar. "Allowing him his freedom was our only viable path to snaring the rest of his cabal—and, more importantly, his contractor. I suspect the only reason he targeted me initially was to break your spirit. Someone out there truly believes I am your greatest vulnerability. It also explains why the assassin looked joyous when he realized you were poisoned."
"Thankfully, our own good doctor lived in Caledonia once," Vincent uttered, shifting his gaze toward the physician, who had just finished gathering his tinctures and instruments into a leather medical bag, preparing to take his leave. "You have our gratitude, Doctor. Had you not possessed the skill to perfectly replicate the scent and color of that poison, the assassin would never have surrendered the true antidote so readily."
The elderly physician blinked, visibly startled by the unexpected praise from the notoriously cold Marquis.
He froze for a moment before offering a deep, sweeping bow.
"Your Lordship is far too kind," the physician replied, dipping his head. "I am merely relieved that the antidote reached our hands before the venom took permanent root. To be frank, My Lord, I was utterly shaken when I first recognized the symptoms. That mixture is known within the eastern courts as the Sanguine Bane. It is a highly classified, untraceable formula commissioned by the Caledonian Royal Ministry of War. It is no ordinary toxin to be trifled with. Had the Marchioness taken the strike intended for you... she would have perished on the spot."
Hearing those words, a cold dread washed over Vincent, followed closely by a profound, trembling relief. He had come dangerously close to losing the only woman who kept him anchored to this world.
"I shall return at twilight to assess His Lordship’s humors and progress," the physician murmured, offering a final, respectful bow before quietly slipping out of the bedchamber.
With the three of them finally alone, the heavy atmosphere seemed to shift. Penelope smoothed her skirts and sat properly on the edge of the mattress, her gaze resting on her husband.
"What are the chances our hounds will keep pace with the assassin?" Vincent asked, his voice strained as he forced his mind back to the threat at hand. "You mentioned we have eyes following him, correct?"
"Rest assured, we will not lose him," Penelope replied, her tone laced with a quiet, dangerous confidence. "He will lead us straight to the heart of their nest. After all, he won’t be able to keep such a juicy secret all to himself for much longer. I am sure he believes this secret will benefit whoever sent him to kill us."
Vincent blinked, entirely thrown off by her sudden shift in demeanor. "What juicy secret could a condemned killer possibly be harboring?"
Penelope looked at him, and a mischievous smile crept up her lips .
"I am with a child."
