“I was working on a speech and decided to rest my eyes…never mind.” He braced his hands on his hips. “Where were you? Ethan said you weren’t at luncheon.”
The problem with the silent treatment, Evie reflected, was that it put you out of practice for normal conversation. She and James hadn’t had a civilized exchange for days, and she was rusty. Her husband wasn’t at his best either. Instead of a casual inquiry about one another’s day, their exchange felt stiff and accusatory…like they were spoiling for another fight.
“I went into the village.” She strove to sound neutral. “I met the greengrocer’s wife, who happens to be a gifted herbalist. She showed me her physic garden…”
Should I mention my megrim? Will he care? What if it reveals too much about my state of mind?
“One thing led to another,” she finished lamely. “I lost track of time.”
“Plants.” His mouth curled. “I should have known that would get your attention.”
The barb dug into her, as it was no doubt meant to. While James had a temper and could be as righteous and aloof as the mythic Apollo, he was rarely mean. Evie knew that not all husbands would be as supportive of their wives’ interests as he was—her stepfather being a case in point. After marrying him, Mama had had to carry on her studies in secret for fear of inciting his temper…not that that had taken much.
In contrast, James had never questioned Evie’s passion for botany. He listened patiently every time she brought up Cheiranthus cheiri, variety vespertinus—which, heaven help him, had been often—and had even read her paper, providing honest and helpful comments. And, by the blooms, he’d built her a greenhouse and supplied her with anything and everything she needed for her work. Remembering his kindness allowed her to tuck away her hurt and resist sniping back at him.
Instead, she asked, “Is something the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter.”
His curt reply confirmed that something was wrong. Studying him more closely, she saw the sheen of sweat on his brow. The flush on his cheeks had heightened and spread down the corded column of his throat.
“You’re acting strangely,” she said. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“I am perfectly fine.”
His eyes were bright…glassy.
Anxiety prickled her. “I don’t think you are.”
“Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think.”
Concern prompted her to ignore his snide remark and take a step toward him. When she reached for his forehead, he slapped her hand away in the manner of a virgin protecting her virtue. She would have laughed if she weren’t so worried. Instead, she evaded his attempts to wave her off and managed to press her palm against his brow.
Alarm shot through her. “You are burning up.”
“Hot, am I? Well, it’s your fault I am like a banked fire with no vent…”
His smirk slid into a frown as he suddenly swayed.
“You’re ill,” she said fretfully. “Get into bed, and I’ll send for the physician.”
“Nonsense. I am never ill. We Harringtons have strong constitutions…”
His gaze grew unfocused, and he went pale as a sheet. She cried out a warning even as he toppled. When she tried to catch him, his dead weight was too much, and together they crashed to the ground.
Chapter Twelve
Past
“Do you like it?” he asked.
The question was unnecessary because Evie’s expression was, for once, completely unguarded. The shadows had left her eyes, and there was just bright, shining joy as she twirled under the sky of glass. The finishing touches had been put on the greenhouse yesterday, and now it stood like an empty jewel box of glass and iron. The arched roof was composed of slender, white, wrought-iron ribs that secured the sparkling ceiling panels. Green and ochre tiles covered the floor in an elegant, geometrical pattern. Pots and raised beds were empty and awaiting his countess’s whims.
As Evie dashed around the room, talking to herself as she made plans, James was amused and satisfied, like a man who knows he’s given the perfect gift. Shopping for Evie required skill. During their year together, he’d discovered that frocks, jewels, and other feminine luxuries held little appeal for her. Yet he had noted her delight and wonder when they’d visited a friend’s conservatory and decided then and there that she ought to have one of her own.
“Oh, James. The greenhouse could not have turned out better. It is perfect.”
Evie’s glowing excitement justified the extravagance.
