“None. Though, perhaps you’ll allow jam for my toast on the morrow?”
She grinned.
The sight stunned him momentarily.
“I’ll inform Mrs. Woods of the concession. Now, tell me, how are you truly feeling today?”
“Admittedly, the throbbing in my head would drop me to my knees if I attempted to stand at this moment, but, since I’m already abed, perhaps I could use a dash of laudanum—”
The Aegean-colored eyes speared him.
He closed his own against her suspicions. Yes, the remark was flippant, but… did he really feel he needed another dose of hell? He breathed in through his nose, and the subtle scent of rose teased him. He exhaled slowly through his mouth. No, he had no such desire for laudanum, just a desire to locate the spot of origin of her enticing scent.
Slowly, he took stock of his body. His one leg was sore from the cramp the night before but, other than that, there was no nauseousness, and much of his agitation had abated. The flu-like symptoms were dissipating daily, though he still experienced chills on occasion, along with the muscle cramps. All in all, positive signs.
“Lady Alymer? A missive for you.”
With a covert glance to the door, Harlowe observed a woman who was as tall as Lady Alymer but twice her weight, and dark blonde hair secured tightly at her nape. Her lips were pinched in a firm disapproving line.
Lady Alymer took the note from her outstretched hand, opened, then scanned it. The expressions flitting across her face told an unguarded story. One she was not happy about.
“Will you pardon me a moment, my lord?” She didn’t wait for an answer and stepped in the hall, pulling the door closed behind her, blocking any possibility to eavesdrop.
Maeve’s foot tapped the thick carpet beneath her, her fury barely leashed. “It appears my mother just cannot contain herself.” She snapped the missive.
Parson didn’t speak, just waited with her hands clasped before her, yet her disapproval emanated from her in droves.
“Go to Ingleby House and retrieve my green ballgown. I wore it last year to—never mind. You know the one I mean,” Maeve bit out, incensed with her mother. “Bring the entire ensemble. I will not step foot in Ingleby House before the Oxford ball.”
“Are you certain, my lady? The green one?” Parson had no business judging Maeve’s actions.
Maeve’s anger spiked to outrage. “Parson, let me make one thing clear. I’m a widow. If you have no need of my service, please inform me now. You aremymaid, not my mother’s appointee.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Take all the time you need retrieving my gown. The ball isn’t for another two days. I’m sure the Kimptons will be attending as well. I’ll check with Lorelei. That will be all.” Maeve spun on her slippered heel and stalked back into Harlowe’s chamber, slamming the door with a thud.
“I take it the news was unsatisfactory? If not by the force of the door, then the harsh red of your complexion would be a dead giveaway.”
“How gallant of you to say so.”
“Who was that?”
“Who?”
“The woman you escorted out?”
“My maid, Parson.”
“Did you sack her?”
“Not yet,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Perhaps you’d like to talk about it?”
Maeve put a hand to her face. “I sent her to Ingleby House to pick up my ballgown for the Oxford Ball, two nights hence.” She balled her fist and looked down. She still held her mother’s now crinkled note.
“And you don’t wish to attend?”
