“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“It’s too obvious. They would’ve left the wine without the incriminating invitation.”

“If they poisoned you, they’d want us to know it was them. To send your family a message.”

“Right.” I sighed. “Okay, who else do you suspect?”

“Everyone.” He gripped my hand and stepped back, eying our security detail. “We need to go.”

“Agreed. Let’s go home.” My pulse jumped with excitement. “We’ll fly back to Maine. Right now.”

“No.”

“We’re not staying here another night.”

“Hell no. I already had our luggage transferred to the car. But we’re not leaving Bishop’s Landing until I find the son of a bitch who tried to poison you.”

“Or you. It could’ve been intended for—”

“The wine was addressed to you, princess.” He squeezed my hand, his gaze flickering with anger.

“Well, shit.” My spine tingled, making me acutely aware of all the eyes on us. “How do you know the wine I spat out was poisoned?”

“I don’t. It’s being tested as we speak.”

“All right.” I nodded to myself and pushed back my shoulders. “I get a vote in this, and I say we go home. Fuck this place.”

“You want to run? Hide in the mountains for the rest of your life?”

Yes. Absolutely.

He would never force me to stay. If I demanded we fly back to Maine tonight, he would take me. It would make him look like a coward in the eyes of my family and our enemies, but he would do it. For me.

The choice was mine.

“I’m scared.” I drew in a breath and released it slowly. “But you’re right. We should stay and face this head-on.”

“There’s my brave girl.”

It wasn’t bravery. It was my unwavering confidence in my husband. He would never let anything happen to us.

With my fingers imprisoned in his fierce grip, he led me out of the ballroom. I passed the governor’s son—scowling in his new shirt—and the mysterious redhead—staring longingly at my husband—and a dozen others who would gladly poison me.

Bodyguards sheltered us on all sides, hiking my heart rate. We entered the hall of my childhood home and didn’t stop until we reached the foyer.

The men ahead of us stepped aside, revealing my mother. She stood like a regal queen near the front door, wearing a glamorous golden gown and a stoic expression.

“Do you know what’s going on?” I approached her, taking in her stiff neck.

“I’ve been briefed.” She accepted my faux-fur coat from the butler and draped it around my shoulders.

As I slid my arms into the sleeves, she gripped the collar and pulled me close.

“Don’t worry, Tinsley.” She went to work on the buttons, her voice wooden. “I’ll take care of this.”

“The way you took care of Eliza Bancroft?” Magnus growled.