By the time Doctor Turpin came, Castelwas mostly roused. The doctor identified the symptoms as likely caused by a dose of morphia or laudanum and determined that there wasn’t much to be done other than wait for the effects to dissipate. After sending Maureen in a carriage to stay with the Renaldis at Davenguard, Mira, Byron, and Castel left for the Royal Crescent.
Castel dozed for most of the trip, so they couldn’t get much out of him as far as what led up to Hoddle administering the drink. Once they reached the house, it took both of their support to get him inside. They brought him into the sitting room where Mrs. Sherard was sewing. She looked up as they came in and immediately set her things aside, coming to meet them.
“What’s happened?” She placed the back of her hand to Castel’s forehead. “Is it a fever?”
“No, Mamma,” Byron said as they deposited his brother into a chair. “He’s all right, just had a bit of laudanum.”
“A bit? He can’t even support himself.”
Byron huffed and explained the situation. Mrs. Sherard went back to her seat by the fire, wide-eyed.
“Forgive me, but I wouldn’t think Hoddle capable of such a thing,” she said. “He’s always seemed so vapid.”
“He’s not an admiral,” Castel said, his words slurring as he came to for a moment of lucidity. “I checked the admiralty.”
“I suppose it all was an act,” Mira said.
“And we have no idea where he’s gone now, or why he thought it necessary to subdue Castel,” Byron said.
The latter grumbled in his sleep, shifting in the chair.
Mrs. Sherard smiled fondly at him before frowning and looking up at the two of them. “Where’s Mary?”
Byron blinked. “Mary?”
“Yes. A carriage came for her just over an hour ago. The driver said you sent him to fetch Mary for something.”
Mira’s stomach dropped. “We never sent a carriage.”
Byron stood. “Do you remember what the driver looked like? Was there anyone in the carriage already?”
“I-I’m afraid I don’t remember. I noticed he wore a muffler. There might have been someone in the carriage...”
Byron swore under his breath. “If it was Hoddle...”
“Why would he take her?” Mira said.
“I don’t know.” He paced away. “And that’s more frightening than knowing. It’s possible he received a message from Circe.” He shook his head. “No. There wouldn’t have been enough time between when he learned I was a detective and now for him to write his superiors and receive orders back.”
A knock sounded at the door and Greerson came in with a letter on a tray. He brought it to Mrs. Sherard.
“This just came, Madame.”
“Thank you. Would you fetch some tea for us and water for Castel?”
Greerson inclined his head and left the room. Mrs. Sherard slipped a letter opener through the top of the envelope and pulled out a card. After reading the first line, her hands began to shake.
“Byron,” she held the card up and her son took it, reading italoud.
“It’s not signed,” Byron said, throwing the note on the table.
“What documents is it referring to?” Mrs. Sherard asked.
“Political documents regarding a treaty.” He rubbed his temples.
“Do you have them?”
“No, not exactly,” Byron pulled the folder of sheet music out of his bag and threw it on the table too. “It needs to be deciphered. But even once we have it, we can’t just hand it over.”
