wait to see her again. He was eager to ride out with her, though she would refuse the sidesaddle Jermyn would set ready and might choose an inappropriate mount. Why had he said she could choose? Why, indeed, had he fawned over her at breakfast, fetching her food, insisting she sit beside him, fussing with her flatware as if he were a servant?
That had been a ruse, of course, the silverware, and the chair, too. He had simply wanted an excuse to bend close to her, to touch her through her shirtwaist, to breathe in her scent. She wore no perfume, but she smelled deliciously of soap and shampoo and clear skin. She seemed irresistible. It was as if he had lost control of his sensibilities. What had happened to him?
He had one boot on, and the other was waiting in Perry’s hands, when the nausea struck. It came all at once, out of nowhere. One moment he was extending his foot for his second boot, and the next he was doubled over the commode. He had never felt so sick, and certainly never so suddenly, or so thoroughly.
Perry, alarmed, knelt beside him, a towel in his hand. “My lord? Shall I send for the doctor?”
Still gagging, James shook his head. It was a minute or more before he could say in a choked voice, “Give me a minute. I must have eaten something—” He had to pause as he choked again and spit. The taste in his mouth was vile, and oddly tainted with something like pine needles, which made no sense at all. There had been nothing like that in his breakfast.
It wasn’t until Perry had helped him up and aided him in washing out his mouth and bathing his face with water that he remembered there had been something—some odd taste that had been in his mouth for only a second, but had that tinge of pine in it. He had been on the point of spitting it out, he remembered, but Annis had spoken to him, leaning forward so he could look directly into her amazing eyes, that forget-me-not blue, and…
He had swallowed it. Whatever that was that had tasted like a tree instead of proper porridge, he had let it slide down his throat. Thinking of it made his stomach contract again, and he pressed his fist to his lips.
Perry said in alarm, “My lord? Again?”
James shook his head. He couldn’t speak until the spasm eased. “Tell Her Ladyship,” he croaked. “Something at breakfast—see if anyone else is ill.”
“I’ll bring up some tea.”
“Help me get this damned boot off first. I’m going to have to lie down. Oh good God.” He gritted his teeth against a fresh wave of sickness. He was sure there was nothing left in his stomach. He said hoarsely, “Give my apologies to Miss Allington, will you, Perry? We were to ride—we will have to postpone.”
“Yes, my lord. Of course. Here, into bed with you. Let’s get your jacket off.”
James lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes as Perry pulled the coverlet over him, clothes and all. “Best bring me a basin,” James said miserably. “I don’t know if this is over.”
Perry hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes when a firm knock sounded on the door. Sure it was his mother, and knowing she wouldn’t be kept out if she had decided her presence was required, James called weakly, without opening his eyes, “Yes. Come in.”
He had stopped being sick, at least for the moment, but he felt as weak as a newborn puppy. The room was too hot, the air fouled, but he didn’t have the strength to get up to open the window, nor even to cross to the bellpull to ring for Perry. The door opened, and quick, light steps approached his bed. Those steps did not belong to Lady Eleanor.
James forced his eyes to open. When he saw his visitor, he groaned, “Oh my God. Miss Allington—too humiliating, really—I—”
“Nonsense,” she said. She set something down on the nightstand and began fussing with his pillows. “Here, my lord, see if you can sit up. I’ve brought you some ginger tea. That might ease your stomach.”
“Ginger?” he said, feeling more like a sick child than the man he wanted her to see.
“Yes, do try it. I had some in my things, because my maid suffers from seasickness.”
“I’m not—I’m never sick on the sea—”
She was urging him into a sitting position with surprisingly strong hands. “No, of