Only Scandal Will Do (28 page)

He glanced up from his musings; still no Katarina. The sun broke through the thin clouds on the horizon, brilliant clear light transfixing the waves. Indeed, a magnificent display.

Damn, but Katarina should have been here to share this with him. He’d specifically asked her to join him on deck this morning when he’d escorted her to her cabin after dinner. Come to think about it, she had not given him a direct answer, just a slight smile.

Scowling, Duncan turned from the bow and made his way down the gangway to what had been the captain’s cabin. Now refurbished as a luxury stateroom, ostensibly for Katarina, he had hoped by the end of the voyage it would be their joint cabin. He rapped a staccato beat on the door and when it did not open immediately, impatience turned to annoyance. Katarina should at least be dressing by this time. What was the damned delay?

An odd, muffled sound came through the door. He knocked again. “Lady Dalbury? Are you coming up on deck?” he called. “You have missed the sunrise, my lady. Will you miss breakfast as well?” A louder sound, more akin to a groan, issued from behind the stout door. He tried the latch, but it was locked. “Lady Dalbury? Margery? Is something wrong?”

Just as his patience drained to the last drop, the cabin door slid open, revealing Margery in the doorway. Her gray traveling dress was stained down the front with God knew what and her hair trailed from her usual tidy bun in a hundred limp wisps. Her haggard face, set in harsh lines, appeared weary beyond belief.

“Margery! What the hell is going on?” Before the maid could summon an answer, a terrible gurgling sound issued from the room behind her. At the same time, the smell hit him. “My God, what is that stench?”

Behind Margery, his wife raised her head from a basin that had been placed on the floor beside the bunk. Her face, white as her gown, seemed even paler in contrast to her flaming hair, now plastered darkly to her head. She stared at him as she eased herself onto the pillow. A low moan became the words, “Go away.”

Margery staggered into the gangway, drawing the door closed behind her.

“How long has she been ill?” he demanded. Sweet Christ, why hadn’t they called him? Katarina looked near to death.

“Since last night, my lord.” The maid’s dull tone revealed the depths of her fatigue. Margery propped herself against the door, the only thing keeping her standing. “She was fine after dinner. We talked as she undressed and got ready for bed, and there was no sign of sickness. Then all of a sudden, she come over queer-like and sat down on the bed. Her face went a funny greenish color, then gray, and she said ‘I’m sick, Margery,’ and started like you just saw, my lord. All night, it’s been.”

He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. “Did you send for the doctor?”

“There’s none onboard, my lord.”

Damn the captain! He should never have left the hiring of the crew to him, no matter the protocol. What fool would neglect to secure a physician? “Lady Dalbury got no rest all night?”

“We might have dozed a bit now and then, my lord. But no good sleep at all.” The maid yawned, punctuating her words.

“Was it something she ate at dinner? Did something disagree with her, do you think?”

Margery gave him a withering glare. “You ate the same thing yourself, my lord, as did I. And I felt no ill effects. Neither did you, by the looks of you.” She eyed his tall frame with pursed lips. “I’d say, myself, it’s the seasickness. I never had any trouble myself, but there’s folk who can’t travel over the waves without retching like she’s been doing.”

“I wish she had said something about this before we left. We could have taken an overland route instead.” He peered at her sharply. “Was she this ill when she and Manning came over from the colonies?”

Margery shrugged. “I can’t say, I’m sure, Lord Dalbury. I was only engaged as Lady Katarina’s maid after she and her brother came to London. She never mentioned such sickness to me when we were getting ready for this voyage.”

Worry formed a cold knot in his stomach. “Go down to your cabin and get some sleep, Margery. I’ll stay with Lady Dalbury until you’re rested. We can each take a turn tending her and then I’ll–”

A pitiful moan came from within the cabin. “Margery. Oh God.”

He thrust the door open, and Margery almost fell inside the cabin. Katarina again leaned over the basin, moaning as though death were eminent. Rushing to her side, he gently cradled her forehead until it rested limply against his hand then eased her onto the bed. Seated beside her, he smoothed her hair away from her face with a feather light touch. She opened her eyes, two pools of pure misery, took a slow deep breath and managed to whisper, “Please leave.” Then she closed her eyes. Her breathing became short, sharp pants, as though to take a second full breath might incur another bout of sickness.

“My lord.” Margery shook her head and beckoned him toward the door.

He sighed and touched his wife’s cold cheek. She looked so vulnerable. To leave her thus wrenched his heart. At another fiercely whispered “my lord!” he rose, leaned over and kissed the clammy forehead then strode out. As soon as they were outside the cabin he tried to take command once more. “Go on to my cabin, Margery. You can’t nurse her if you are exhausted.”

The maid sighed but stood her ground. “She doesn’t want you tending her, my lord. And I can understand that. She’s probably embarrassed to have you see her like this. I’ll manage. I’ve done sickroom duty before and survived. I’ll snatch some rest here and there. Hopefully she’ll come out of this soon. Ask the captain how long before someone gets over seasickness. If anyone would know, he would.”

He nodded. “What can I do to help?”

“Can you send someone with a bucket of clean water? And some cloths so I can wipe her face? They need to take away the slop bucket as well.” Margery wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought.

“I’ll talk to the captain and get a crewman assigned as your assistant. He’ll do whatever you need done.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“And, Margery,” he said, grimly determined to regain some control over the situation, “I’ll want a report given to the lad every hour on my lady’s condition. If she ever falls into a deep sleep, let me know and I’ll take over while you rest.”

Margery nodded. “Thank you again. My lord.”

He stopped, eager to do anything that might alleviate Katarina’s suffering.

“I’ll tell her you are seeing to her comfort. She should know of your concern.”

“Thank you, Margery.” It had taken a crisis of major proportions, but at last he had made a favorable impression on Katarina’s maid.

He tore up the gangway, into the brilliant sunshine of a morning that had lost its appeal and hurried to the bridge, to Captain Stratton.

“Seasickness affects everyone differently, my lord,” the captain said. “Some get it from the moment they set foot on a ship ’til the moment they’re back on dry land. Others have a quick bout, then find their sea legs. Some are sick only when it’s stormy. Right now we’re still in the channel and there’s a good bit of chop. That may be what’s the matter with her ladyship.”

“Why is there no physician on board, Captain? You were given full authority to hire whomever you needed.” If he could have burned a hole between Stratton’s eyes with his glare, he would have.

“I’ve never needed one before, Lord Dalbury. And seasickness is not something a physician can treat. It generally just runs its course.” The captain’s tone was civil, but a trifle condescending for his taste.

“So, when we get out of the channel the water will be calmer? She’ll recover?”

Captain Stratton called to a passing sailor. “Larraby.”

The young man stopped and raised his face respectfully toward the captain. Duncan judged him a lad of perhaps sixteen, but his face and arms were the bronzed complexion of a seasoned crewmember, his hair already bleached tow by the sun.

“Her ladyship is having a bout of
mal de mer
, Larraby,” the captain informed him. “Go to her cabin and see what you can do for her maid. Whatever the lady needs, you’ll get, understand?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Good lad. Off with you, now.”

“I want a report, Larraby!” Duncan called as the sailor sped across the deck at a run. “In my cabin in ten minutes!”

“Yes, m’lord!” The nimble boy swung out of sight into the corridor.

Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the rail at his back and fixed the captain with his trademark haughty stare, designed to make men quail. “So, Captain Stratton, you were saying that once we get out of the channel the choppiness will disappear and Lady Dalbury will recover?”

The captain waited a moment then sighed and shook his head. “Probably not, my lord. Once we clear the channel we will be sailing in the Atlantic, and the ocean is anything but calm waters. We can hug the coastline all the way down, which may help matters, but that will extend the voyage by a week or more.”

“And there’s no way to tell how long before Lady Dalbury recovers from this affliction?”

“No, my lord. She could be fine by tonight or not until we dock in Italy. Has this happened before?”

“She mentioned nothing of it before we sailed. I’d hoped she would have told me of a problem this serious.” But would Katarina have confided in him? “My wife crossed to England from the colonies early in the year, so she would have known.” What he wouldn’t give to be able to ask his brother-in-law right now.

The captain sailed in silence for a while then glanced at him. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but Lady Dalbury is not expecting a child by any chance? The motion of the ship could have aggravated morning sickness.”

A snort escaped him. “No, Captain. I can assure you that is not the case.”

“Then, my lord, you might take comfort in the fact that no one ever dies of seasickness.”

He shot a glare at the captain. The man’s cavalier attitude toward Katarina’s welfare did not sit well. Stratton might have experience regarding the severity of the malady, but his optimism rankled, just the same.

Christ! If Katarina was ill the whole journey, his plan for romance on the high seas would be dashed to hell. And, devil take it, how was he to get her
back
to England when the time came? He could hardly insist that she sail, knowing this would happen again. Even if they traveled overland there was still the channel to cross. They might as well turn around and go home now.

Frustration made him throw up his hands, stalk off the bridge and head below for the first report on his wife’s condition. Larraby awaited him at his cabin door when he arrived there. He motioned the lad inside, took a seat in one of the soft leather captain’s chairs and steeled himself for the unsavory details.

“How is Lady Dalbury now, Larraby?”

Larraby stood straight, fixed his gaze on the ceiling and recited the report as though learned by heart. “Mistress Margery said to tell you, m’lord, that your wife fares much the same. She tried to drink some water but couldn’t keep nothin’ down. The cloths and the clean water were much appreciated. And...and...your wife said...”

If only he could drag the words from the sailor’s mouth! He leaned forward, hoping to encourage Larraby.

“Your wife said ‘Thank you for leaving.’” The lad grinned, no doubt pleased to have remembered all of his charge.

Sorely disappointed, Duncan sagged back in his chair. “Thank you, Larraby. Tell Margery I will expect another report in an hour. And if she has need of anything she is to let you know. Any change, for better or for worse, tell me immediately.”

Larraby bobbed his head. A final “yes, m’lord,” and he was out the cabin door.

What to do? Give up and turn back, or wait it out and hope the sickness passed? Neither option was attractive. Katarina was so ill. Wretched and forlorn. A surge of love and protectiveness welled up in him, rendering the decision easy. If matters did not improve by tomorrow morning, he would order the captain to return to England. Stratton might claim no one died of seasickness, but he would take no chances with Katarina.

He smiled grimly. There was a silver lining to the situation, though a poor one. Her illness rendered her too sick to protest that she had again been cheated out of the opportunity to learn his disarm.

Chapter 26

The reports Duncan received throughout the day became increasingly monotonous, for there was almost no change in Katarina’s condition. Bouts of illness occurred if she tried to eat or drink. She dozed fitfully but got no real rest. By eight o’clock that night, he could recite the report word for word with Larraby, although the last one did have a disturbing addition from the sailor himself.

“When I knocked on the door, m’lord, there weren’t no answer.” He seemed to meet his gaze with reluctance. “I knocked again. Still nothing and I was afraid, m’lord.” The boy must have sensed the fear mounting in him, for his lips trembled and his gray eyes widened. “So I eased the door open and...and...your wife was lying on the bed, just like always, but...but ...Mistress Margery was...all in a heap on the floor.”

His heart leapt. As he started up from his chair, bound for his wife’s cabin, Larraby held up a hand. “It was all right my lord,” he said quickly. “I ran to Mistress Margery quiet like, so as not to disturb her ladyship, and shook her and finally got her to wake up. She’s just all in, m’lord, since she’s been nursing her ladyship all day. I told her I’d come back after I reported to you and spell her a while so she could get some sleep.” He puffed out his chest a little. “I used to do that with me Mam when one of the little ’uns would take sick. I’ll take real good care of her ladyship, m’lord. You can trust me.”