Lady Amelia's Mess and a Half (28 page)

She yawned, her shoulders drooping on the exhale. “Do you mind if I lie down for a while? I’m not feeling myself today.”

She didn’t seem quite herself either. If a nap would facilitate a return of her usual cheerful demeanor, he fully supported one.

“I’ll see if Daniel could use my assistance while you rest.”

***

Amelia struggled to keep her eyes open during dinner despite a long nap. The cumulative effects of the salty mist and sunshine had the same effect as a large meal, a glass of wine, and a lullaby. Even on the archaic bed waiting for her in their cabin, she expected to have no problems with falling asleep. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d been this exhausted.

She picked at the boiled pork on her china plate. The delicate dinnerware was out of place in the stark surroundings. One feminine touch in an all-male domain. The dishes reminded her of how out of her element she was. She missed Bibi already.

Unfortunately, the pink flowers on the plate rim did nothing to enhance the meal. The tough meat required excessive chewing, tiring her even more. Saltiness filled her mouth and the back of her throat. She fought against the urge to gag, setting her fork beside her plate.

Captain Hillary narrowed his eyes. “We waste no food on the
Cecily
.”

“She’s eating,” Jake said, coming to her rescue again. “What would not be a waste is a practice in civility while in the lady’s presence. Perhaps it would prove handy when we return to London.”

“I have no time for ladies.”

Amelia’s gaze darted between the men. She disliked being the cause of conflict between them.

“The fare is more than adequate, Captain.” She picked up her fork and skewered a piece of meat then popped it into her mouth. Her stomach roiled. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply until her stomach settled. “Mmm. My compliments… to… your cook.”

Her stomach rumbled again. Another bite and she would toss up her accounts.

Jake pushed his empty plate aside. “Whatever you leave, I will gladly eat. I’m famished and didn’t get my fill.”

Amelia shot him a grateful look and passed him her meal. “I’ve had more than enough. Please, help yourself.”

Jake accepted her offering and cleaned her plate. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he leaned back in the chair. “What do you say to a reading this evening?”

She would prefer going to bed, but it seemed rude to excuse herself so soon after their meal. “Reading sounds lovely.”

“Allow me to retrieve your book.” Jake hopped up before she could protest being alone with Captain Hillary.

When he left the cabin, the captain’s gaze bore into her. “You must eat whether you enjoy the fare or not.”

She sat up straight. “Oh, no. You misunderstand. The food was superb—”

“Enough. I don’t require false flattery. Either eat well, or you will not survive. Simple as that.”

Amelia blinked, shocked by his bluntness. “I understand, Captain Hillary. I promise to consume all of my next meal.”

He nodded, a slight smile erasing some of his sternness. “See that you do, my dear.”

They sat in silence until Jake returned with her book of plays.

“Will you read tonight?” she asked.

Taking his seat again, Jake flipped the book open and leafed through several pages before settling on a play.

“Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace; four happy days bring in another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow this old moon wanes!”

Amelia’s body heated and she averted her gaze. Was it a happy coincidence he had chosen this play? Their own nuptial hour would have been yesterday, and it was her fault they remained apart. She never should have married Audley.

Jake seemed unaware of her discomfort and continued reading, changing to a falsetto when he recited Hippolyta’s lines. She chuckled in spite of feeling wretched.

Jake peeked over the book’s edge. A smile lit his eyes. Finding her response encouraging, he adopted different voices for Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and all the characters of
A
Midsummer
Night’s Dream.
Soon he stood and added movement, silly, overly dramatic gestures and fluttering eyelashes as he had to entertain the orphans.

His interpretation of the mischievous Puck made her laugh until tears rolled down her cheeks. Even Captain Hillary chuckled on occasion, much to her surprise. He had seemed incapable of merriment earlier.

At the end of the evening, she stretched out on the straw mattress in the cabin and fell into a dead sleep before Jake had finished readying for bed. It was hours later when waves of nausea jolted her from sleep and sent her scrambling to locate the chamber pot in the darkness.

She careened into the side table, knocking something heavy to the floor and waking Jake.

“Amelia?”

She couldn’t answer with anything other than a moan as she felt around in the black night for the folding screen. She stumbled into it, hitting her elbow, before a light flickered in the lantern. Dropping to her knees before the chamber pot, she tossed up her accounts, certain she was dying.

Jake came around the screen, knelt beside her, and supported her weight as she emptied her stomach.

After her retching ceased, he brushed the hair from her eyes. “Are you all right?”

A cold sweat saturated her night rail. “I’m uncertain,” she eked out.

He lifted her weak body, carried her back to the bed, and laid her upon it with care.

“I’ll retrieve the surgeon,” he said.

“No, please. I-I think I might be seasick. Allow me to rest. I’ll feel better on the morrow.”

His brow creased as he studied her. “Are you certain?”

She offered a half smile and closed her eyes, unable to speak. Jake moved about the cabin then closed the door as he left. She was asleep before he returned.

When she next woke, a sunbeam thrust its way into their cabin through the pristine glass window. Jake was stretched out beside her, his arm draped across her waist. Her mouth was as dry as day-old bread, and her body ached. She stirred to relieve some of her discomfort, hoping not to wake him, but he shot upright.

“What do you need?”

“Water.”

He pushed from the bed and moved to the small table to pour from a serviceable pitcher. Returning, he placed the cup on the side table then helped her sit up on the edge of the bed. He joined her on the mattress and kept his arm around her for support. The tepid liquid washed over her parched tongue as she drank every drop, easing the scratchiness in her throat.

“I think I am better now.”

Jake didn’t release her.

Her stomach heaved again, and she dashed for the chamber pot, unable to keep down water even.

As Jake assisted her back in bed, he frowned. “I’m collecting the surgeon.”

Amelia sized up the gentleman designated as the ship’s surgeon standing in her cabin. He looked more distinguished than she had expected. When Jake had declared his intentions to summon him, images of a raving madman wielding sharp instruments led her to protest.

But now that the surgeon established his sanity, she was thankful Jake had retrieved the man. Although her stomach had settled over the last hour, and she was convinced whatever ailed her had passed, Jake remained skeptical. Perhaps the surgeon could help her persuade him she was well now when he allowed Jake back in the cabin.

“As you can see, I am fine. Whatever ailment plagued me earlier, it has passed.”

“Uh, huh. Open wide.” Amelia did as Mr. Timmons instructed, but she gagged again when he poked a stick in her mouth.

She almost knocked him down in a rush to reach the chamber pot, but all she did was dry heave.

“Hmm. Interesting,” the man said from the other side of the screen. “Once you’ve set yourself to rights, I have a few questions.”

Tentatively, she peeked around the folding screen. “Yes?”

He waved her forward. “Come along. My exam is incomplete.”

She moved to the chair he indicated.

Pushing her sleeves up to her elbows, he squeezed both wrists, turning each arm this way and then that, studying her skin, or perhaps her veins. Amelia was uncertain what he meant to accomplish. He took her face between his hands and swooped closer as if he might kiss her but stopped mere inches from her lips.

“Look up,” he ordered, spreading her eyes wide with his fingers.

Amelia looked up, hoping her compliance would end this ridiculous encounter.

He stepped back. “I think I know what ails you. Yet I can only be certain one way.”

“What way? What is wrong with me?”

His lips puckered and twisted to the side, as he seemed deep in thought. “No,” he mumbled. “Perhaps there is a less improper way. Lady Audley, when were your last courses?”

Amelia’s hand flew to her chest. “
Sir
, that is a delicate matter not discussed in mixed company.”

“You mustn’t consider me a mere man. I practice medicine. That places me in a different category, like a bishop. It makes any confessions acceptable conversation topics.”

“
Confessions?
”

“Poor choice of words. I was trying to illustrate a point. Now think. When was your last menses?”

Amelia’s entire body flushed with intense heat. He thought her with child. How ridiculous. Why, she had just had her last monthly… She searched her memory. Three—was it four? Oh, dear heavens. Six weeks ago?

“No!” She bolted from the chair. “This cannot be happening.” Whipping around, she nailed the surgeon with a furious glare. “You are wrong. What
really
ails me? Do I have cholera? The plague? It’s scurvy, isn’t it? Yes, that must be it.”

The man drew back with a puzzled frown. “You would prefer a horrid disease to carrying a child?”

She burst into tears.

“Yes,” he mumbled, “my diagnosis is accurate. You are already suffering from the hysteria associated with bearing a child.”

Amelia frowned at him through her tears. “I am not hysterical.” The good Lord knew she wanted a child more than anything. And not just any man’s issue. She wanted a child with Jake, but her divorce would never be granted in time. The thought of their child legally belonging to Audley made her nauseated all over again.

Instead of running from the cabin in fear of her sudden ill temper, the surgeon put his arms around her and led her back to the chair. “You mustn’t cry, milady. The Almighty never gives you more than you can handle.”

Amelia wanted to shout, “Ha!” or deliver a clout to the side of his head. What manner of idiot made such a comment? He seemed as qualified for his position on ship as the cook.

Of course, Mr. Timmons would think it was easy.
He
wasn’t about to destroy the life of someone he loved or ruin his child’s life. He probably thought birthing a fabulous way to spend an evening, too.

In fury, she glared at the simpleton. “Don’t you dare tell
anyone
of my condition, or so help me… you… you’ll walk the plank.”

The dreadful man laughed.

“
I’ll
keep your secret safe,” he said, “but the child will give you away in time.”

“Yes, well that is none of your concern. It’s your duty to convince Mr. Hillary that I am fit.”

His gentle smile infuriated her even more. Honestly, where had Captain Hillary found the charlatan?

“Eat smaller meals more often and get plenty of sleep to manage your nausea,” he said. “The sickness will go away on its own.”

“Please, leave me.” She waved him away with an irritated flick of her hand, but before he reached the door, she added, “Thank you.”

Under different circumstances, his diagnosis would have overjoyed her.

***

Jake paced Daniel’s quarters while his brother studied navigational charts and made calculations. “I should have heeded your warnings,” Jake said.

“Hmmph.” Daniel didn’t look up from his maps.

“I shouldn’t have brought her along.”

His brother glanced up briefly before returning to his work without comment this time.

“What if she’s really ill? What if she
dies
?”

Daniel’s quill clattered against the desktop. “Has anyone ever told you that you babble more than a shallow brook? Timmons will be in shortly, and you’ll realize what a ninny you are.”

A knock at the door interrupted Jake’s pacing.

“Enter,” Daniel barked.

The surgeon meandered into his brother’s office with a smile. “Good news, gentlemen. Nothing serious ails Lady Audley.”

Jake’s breath came out in a noisy whoosh. “Are you certain?”

“No need to fret in the least.”

Jake did not need to hear anything more. He flew out the door and hurried below deck. Without knocking, he burst into the cabin.

Amelia jumped to her feet, her hand covering her heart. “Good heavens, Jake.”

Before she could say another word, he crossed the small space and swept her into his arms, lifting her from her feet. He wouldn’t let her go, no matter if she protested or not.

“Thank God you’re not seriously ill.” For a long time, he held her, swaying to the music in his heart. “Everything will be all right, Mia. You will see.”

***

Lord Banner had died a sudden death. Heart trouble, the doctor had said, but Jasper knew the doctor had lied. The blackguard hadn’t possessed a heart. Jasper hadn’t expected his sister to mourn Banner’s death with any real conviction, so her stony expression and dry eyes at his wake hadn’t been cause for alarm.

What did cause Jasper concern was how she continued to show no change in affect three weeks after Banner’s burial. It was as if the sister Jasper had always known had slipped into herself and disappeared.

He studied her across the dinner table. Her face had grown gaunt, and her widow’s weeds hung on her already rail thin frame. She’d barely eaten a bite of her meal, even though Cook had prepared her favorites.

When she pushed her plate away, Jasper followed suit, rose from his seat, and went to her side. “Let’s retire to the drawing room. I wish to speak with you on a matter of importance.”

He assisted her from the chair and linked arms. “I’m concerned for your welfare, Fiona.”

She patted his arm and offered a wan smile, the first glimmer he’d seen of his sister for weeks. “It’s my role to worry over you, Tub.”

“Fuss over me is more like it,” he teased. “Or perhaps fuss
at
me.”

He saw her settled into a chair in the drawing room before he took a seat.

“You need to find someone else to fuss over you,” she said. “It’s high time you married. I cannot look after you forever.”

Jasper adjusted his position on the chair. He had hoped to ease into this conversation, but since the opportunity presented itself… “I believe you are correct. It is time I took a wife and filled the nursery.”

Fiona’s smile widened. “The sounds of tiny footsteps would lend an air of cheerfulness to this dreadful place. We could use some cheer.”

His sister had been unable to carry a child, which he suspected added to her bitterness. She’d been a doting mother to him. It seemed a shame she’d been denied her own offspring.

He bestowed a tender smile on his sister. “I’m certain the pitter-patter of tiny feet will liven up Norwick Place. The children shall be fortunate to have such an attentive aunt.”

Fiona preened, looking more like her old self. “Yes, well, I knew you would come around eventually. Have you anyone in mind? Lady Eloise is a lovely young woman, or perhaps the Duke of Foxhaven’s daughter, Lady Gabrielle.”

Jasper snorted. “Lady Gabrielle? We wouldn’t suit in the least. She’s still a girl.”

“There is that. Well, Lady Eloise is not a green girl, but she is young enough to provide a houseful of issue.”

“I’m not seeking a breeder, Fiona.” He rubbed his forehead. “Perhaps we should change the subject.”

“To what, pray tell? What is more important than discussing an heir?”

Gads, she was a single-minded creature.

“Indeed. An heir is important.” He cleared his throat. “I would like to ask something of a personal nature. About Banner.”

Her face hardened and she looked away. “He’s no longer a factor in my existence. I have no wish to think on him.”

“I understand, but there’s something that has troubled me these last few weeks. Something I fear may have happened to you.”

Her gaze snapped back to Jasper’s face.

“What were the circumstances surrounding the night Banner ruined you?”

Fiona stood. “That is
highly
personal, Jasper Hainsworth. And I care not to discuss my ruination with my younger brother.”

He jumped up and captured her arm gently. “I mean no harm. I simply wish to know if Father misjudged you. I always considered it unfair that he disowned you.”

Fiona jerked from Jasper’s grasp and turned her back to him. “Father was a tyrant. I’ve no desire to discuss him, either. Besides, you righted the matter when you returned my dowry.”

“I think you were deeply wronged, Fi. Not just by Father.” Jasper feathered his hand over her back as she’d done to soothe him as a child. She didn’t shrug away as he’d suspected she might. “Did Banner bring you something to drink that evening?” he asked in a soft voice.

She spun around with a gasp.

“Did he give you a sleeping potion to render you incapacitated?”

“Oh!” Fiona’s hand flew to cover her mouth as tears swam in her eyes.

“Fi, I’m sorry.” Jasper wrapped his arms around her emaciated frame, absorbing the violent tremors that shook her. “I had no idea. Father couldn’t have known, either. The matter would have been settled on the field if he had.”

His sister held herself rigid, unwilling to accept any more comfort. “
Tell
me how you know.”

He released her and scrubbed a hand over his face. She wouldn’t like the answer. “Lady Kennell had a similar experience with Banner.”

Fiona stared at him, tumultuous emotions churning across her face. She said nothing. She didn’t move. Silence and stillness stretched for what seemed like hours.

“Fi, did you hear me?”

Her earsplitting screech gave him a start. She dropped her head back and howled at the ceiling. “No!”

Thunder
an’ turf
! His sister had the devil’s own temper.

Jasper backed away from her, but she struck out.

“You lie. You horrid, horrid liar!” Her fists glanced off his chest.

“Stop this nonsense at once. I wouldn’t lie to you.” He blocked her next blow by capturing her wrists. She twisted like a fish caught on a line, and he released her for fear of causing her injury. She caught herself against the side table, but not before sending an Oriental jar crashing to the floor.

“It’s untrue,” she cried. “Charles took drastic measures because he loved me. He was desperate to have me for his wife. He knew I’d never go against Papa. He did it for us.”

“Fi, you must realize I speak the truth. How else would Bianca know of these circumstances?”

Veins bulged at Fiona’s temples, her face an alarming shade of plum. “She’s a lying whore. A lying, despicable trollop.”

She stormed to the sideboard. He looked the other way as she poured herself a brandy. His sister deserved a nip after everything she had endured as Banner’s wife. Still, he couldn’t overlook her insults to B.

“Please don’t speak of Lady Kennell in that manner. I’ve grown to care for her.”

“Damn him to hell!” With an animalistic bellow, Fiona flung her arm and raked everything to the floor—crystal decanter, stemware, and a priceless vase. Jasper winced as the pieces broke against the marble floor.