Dr. Blood felt the lump behind her ear, looked at her eyes, kneaded her neck, felt her ankles after he’d removed her boots, frowned at her torn stockings, and ordered strong tea without sugar. “You’ll do,” he said. “Nothing like a woman to have a hard head. You remain lying there, Miss Carrick, all limp and female and let Jason here wait on you. Jason, you can give her some laudanum now. The headache should be gone when she wakes up.”

“The master doesn’t do that,” Martha said from the doorway. “I do that.”

“No, it is I who dole out the laudanum,” Petrie said. “I am the one ultimately responsible for curing Miss Carrick’s headache. I am the butler.”

Hallie groaned.

“Oh dear,” Petrie said.

“She’s not going to vomit,” Corrie said. “Are you, Hallie?”

“No.”

James said, peering down at her, “Now that we know you’re all right, Hallie, my wife and I will see ourselves out. You’ve enough to deal with without family hanging about, even though Bad Boy saved the day, and I’ve yet to hear a single thank-you.”

Jason threw a wet cloth at his twin, who caught it out of the air, and said, “It smells like cow. Not good.”

Corrie laughed, took her husband’s hand, and dragged him from the drawing room. “Rest, Hallie. I will come back in a couple of days to see how you are doing. Angela, don’t worry, your fallen chick will be just fine.”

By eight o’clock that evening, Hallie was so bored, she was ready to tear raw meat apart. Not a minute later, Jason obligingly came into her bedchamber, whistling and carrying a tray.

She eyed the teapot. “I hope Cook made the tea for you. If not, it will taste like hot water with oak bark in it.”

Jason set the tray down, poured a cup and tasted it. “No, not oak bark. Hmm. Elm bark, if I’m not mistaken.”

She laughed, drank some delicious tea, eyed the single scone he handed her. “You lied to her. Well done.”

“I told Cook I needed sustenance to see to your care. She commiserated; not verbally, of course. She didn’t swoon.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen your face since you carted me upstairs.”

“Someone has to work around here,” he said, and handed her the scone. “Don’t stuff it in your mouth. I don’t want you getting sick to your stomach.”

“Petrie came here three times, and each time he pointed out the chamber pot to me. Everyone else was nice enough not to mention it.”

“Angela told me you didn’t look too bad. The scratches on your cheek, I don’t think they’re deep enough to scar.”

“My father always told me I was like him. I could get knocked about, even stomped on, and never show a mark. I like Bad Boy. Do you think James would sell him to me?”

“Not in this lifetime. But he is talking about breeding him. I’ll come to an agreement with him. How do you feel?”

“You know that Normandy church in Easterly? I feel like the bells are clanging inside my head.”

“Good. They’re lovely, those bells. Would you like some more laudanum?”

She shook her head. “Are the horses all right?”

“Dodger seems quite content to whinny over his stall door at both Delilah and Penelope. As for Charlemagne, he got extra oats and a good brushing. Henry told him even though he had a rotten bloodline, he was a steadfast lad, one could count on him.”

“I want to race him next week at Hallum Heath.”

“I’m riding Dodger in that race.”

“You’re too big. You’ll lose.”

“I know, it simply sounds nice to say it. We’ve a jockey arriving early next week, in time for that race. He’s ridden for the Rothermere racing stables for seven years now, ever since he was fifteen. He’s marrying a local girl, moving here, and we are the ones to benefit from Rothermere’s loss. His name is Lorry Dale. Phillip Hawksbury, he’s the earl of Rothermere, said Lorry stuck to a horse’s back like a tick. He only weights eight and a half stone.”

“Hmm.”

“We can both attend, make certain nothing bad is taking place, shout ourselves hoarse, and have some fun. Dodger will win with Lorry on his back.”

“I weigh eight stone.”

“This isn’t Baltimore, and you aren’t Jessie Wyndham. You will not race here, Hallie. Living with me is difficult enough for people to accept, and they only do it because of my family. Your riding in a horse race wouldn’t be tolerated. You’d have to shoot yourself dead to be forgiven that transgression. The winner’s purse is one hundred pounds. Money we can well use.”

“But-”

He lightly placed his fingertips over her mouth. She froze. Jason did as well. Neither moved. Suddenly, Jason took three steps back from her bed, stuck his hands behind his back. He looked toward the door. “I’m going out.”

Hallie felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. She watched him walk backward, looking at her like he wanted to-what? She didn’t know. He was flushed, his eyes looked funny. He wanted to leave? He’d touched her mouth and he couldn’t wait to get away from her? “What do you mean you’re going out? You said nothing before. It’s nearly nine o’clock at night. Jason, wait, where are you going?”

“I’m going out now.” And he was gone in the next thirty seconds. It wasn’t the first time he’d absented himself abruptly in the evenings, for no particular reason that she knew of. Four times now, five? And when did he come home? That was a good question.

Hallie heard him walk by her bedchamber near dawn. She jumped out of bed, nearly fell over at the drumming pain in her head, but managed to stumble out into the corridor. She saw him with his hand out to grasp the door handle on his bedchamber door.

“You just got home. You’re whistling? It’s almost daylight!”

He jerked around like he’d been shot. He saw it was her, saw she was weaving in her open doorway, and started walking back to her. “Yes, I’m home. Let’s get you back to bed, Hallie. What were you doing awake?”

“I was nearly awake when you walked by. Oh dear, where’s the chamber pot?”

CHAPTER 29

He held her while she heaved and shuddered and felt her belly clench in on itself since there was nothing to come up.

His guilt was heavy; he never should have left her. It was all his fault. He’d been only concerned with himself. And so he pulled back her hair now and yelled at her bent head, “Why the hell didn’t you call for help if you felt ill? Why did you leap out of your bed when you heard me outside? Have you no brain at all?”

She finally stilled. He pulled her back against him. The weight of her breasts on his crossed arms felt very nice, but he could take it now. He’d worked himself nearly to death last night to be able to take it now.

Her breathing was calmer, she was relaxing more against him. Her hair was tousled and smelled of jasmine since Martha had washed out Georgiana’s scent. “How do you feel?”

It was the oddest thing. He could feel her thinking. Finally she said, her breath warm against his arm, “I don’t want to die at the moment and that’s good. But my belly feels like it’s raw.”

“You’re far too obstinate to die anytime in the next fifty years. All right now, I’m going to heave you back into bed.”

When he’d pulled the covers to her waist, he gave her some tea that had steeped since the previous night. She sipped it and nearly rose straight off the bed. “Oh goodness, that tea has vampire teeth.”

“Yes, I thought it might do the trick. Cleared your head right out, didn’t it?”

She breathed through her nose as the world tilted, then felt her belly calm. Jason eased her head down on the pillow. “I’m all right now. I don’t know what happened-”

He said, “I’m thinking now you weren’t feeling ill. You got out of bed to come and spy on me, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, it doesn’t sound very noble, but that’s the way it was. I’ll tell you now, Jason, I wouldn’t have if I’d known what would happen.”