No. This was not inebriation.
“Tampered,” he whispered, staring up at Vincent. “Someone must have tampered… with my supply of claret.”
A sick sense of terror overtook his soul as he swayed on the spot.
“Sebastian!” Vincent called out.
Muddled as he was, Sebastian sprinted for the nearest exit to the gardens. There was a terrace attached to the ballroom, and he launched himself out onto it, stumbling and sliding his way down the stone staircase before landing hard on the grass.
His knees gave way, and he knelt there for a long moment, breathing raggedly.
The night air was cool and bracing. Whispers of wind slapped across his cheeks, bringing new life and clarity to his surroundings.
Sebastian sucked in one deep inhalation after the next, and when he had done enough to clear away the wobbly sensation that had overpowered him before, he staggered back to his feet.
Hold yourself together just long enough to…to…
He stumbled his way behind a bush, where he allowed himself to fall on his knees once more. Without giving the notion much thought, Sebastian shoved two fingers into his mouth, forcing the wine he had drunk earlier to come right back.
As he retched, he was aware of footsteps nearing him, and he tensed until he heard Vincent’s voice, a little clearer than before.
“Sebastian?” The question was laced with concern.
“I am…here,” he choked out before another wave of vomit came up.
When it was done, he slumped onto his hands and knees, inhaling and exhaling heavily as his heart rate reverted to its regular speed.
“I am fine,” he exhaled.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “You certain?”
“Indeed,” he gritted out, but he did feel better, and it wasn’t entirely a lie to convince Vincent to let go of his worry. “My… my head hurts, but I do not feel as I did moments ago.”
Slowly, he rocked back onto his heels and got to his feet. He almost shrugged Vincent off when he braced his elbows, but he let himself lean on his friend.
After all, these past few years, Sebastian and Vincent had come to rely on each other completely. While they did not always share every thought that popped into their brains with one another, they were honest and forthright.
They supported each other through good and bad times. If they could not count on each other in moments like these, then they could not truly call themselves friends.
“Thank you,” he muttered. “I—I need to go home. Sleep this off.”
“You truly think someone tampered with your drink?”
Sebastian clenched his jaw, turning to face Vincent, and he nodded. “I do. I can handle my wine, as you said. But this was different. This was… I could not see straight.”
“I know,” Vincent said gently. “Your reaction was strange.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “I did not notice anyone else who was impacted in such a manner.” His brow furrowed. “Did you drink from a special bottle of claret? Is it possible no one else had a portion of what you imbibed tonight?”
It was obvious that Vincent meant well. He was not only concerned about Sebastian’s safety but was worried over the welfare of the guests at the soiree as well. But Sebastian did not have the strength or forbearance to work his way through this riddle at present.
He waved away Vincent’s questions with a dismissive swat of his hand. “If no one else reports feeling unwell, we should not burden the others or cause alarm.”
He nodded toward a couple who were exiting the house. The pair hurried down the terrace steps, cackling delightedly, as they made their way toward the path that would lead to the kitchen garden.
“I can see no reason to ruin the party for everyone, can you?”
Vincent fingered the soft fur lining of his cloak. “You may be right, my friend. The others will not thank us for spoiling their revelries. But if I cannot investigate this matter further, you have left me in a helpless situation.”
Sebastian snorted, then gestured to the front of his suit where a bit of sickness had splashed on the lapels of his waistcoat. “Youfeel helpless?”
