“I do not wish for laudanum, Dr. Pogue.”
Thorne wandered to the foot of the bed and leaned against the post, annoyed with the interchange. Truly, she was the most stubborn woman.
Pogue frowned, obviously unused to women arguing with such sound recommendations. It mattered not, however, as Lorelei would do as instructed if Thorne had to personally administer her medication.
Thorne glanced over at Bethie. Her lips were compressed into a tight grimace at Lorelei’s rebellion, which sent a rush of relief through him. Her devotion to Lorelei was priceless in his estimation. “I’ll see the good doctor out, Bethie. Bring fresh tea for her ladyship.”
She inclined her head and marched out as Pogue gathered up his satchel of goodies.
Thorne followed him out, leaving the door ajar. He didn’t trust his wife an inch.
Lorelei’s eyes burned from the light of the blazing fire in the hearth. Blast it, she could not be ill. She shoved the covers away despite the lethargic sludge crawling through her veins, and rose. But a dizzying sensation rushed her head, and she fell back against the pillows, black spots filling her vision. There was something, something that dangled, teased her… but for the life of her she couldn’t remember… Something vital.
Squeezing her eyes tight, she forced herself to concentrate.Thorne.Yes, she was angry. With Thorne. He’d put Brandon on a ship for war. Lorelei shook her head, attempted to clear the cobwebs. Then she gasped as the images rushed in. Miss Hollerfield’s. No knocker. Her and Ginny. Sneaking into the woman’s abode. Had she dreamed the entire episode? Her and Ginny’s scandalous visit to thatwoman’shome?Ginny.No.
Oh, God.Thorne.Dead!The servant at Miss Hollerfield’s had announced such, hadn’t he? Yes, but another image floated before her. Thorne drenched with rain, his storm-gray eyes flashing, his full lips pressed into a grim line. The nonsensical thoughts shifted into a semblance of order. Her husband, definitely not dead. Not hurt. Not ill. Not indisposed. No, just pictures of him pressing a cool cloth to her head. Dr. Pogue’s fingers against her wrist. His recommendation. Laudanum. A strained groan mewed from her chest as things grew more clear. The stubborn determination in his chin, his clipped words.
“Bethie,” she managed to croak out. Her throat was so parched.
“Ah, yer awake. I brung you tea.”
“Yes. Thank you. But quickly, Bethie. There is much to do.” She had to see Ginny. If Maudsley believed Ginny was playing with another man… Lorelei shivered. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Bethie, general that she was, set her mouth grimly and poured. She handed over a cup and put fisted hands at her broad hips.
“Why are you glaring at me so?” Lorelei drank it down, then held the cup out for more.I have to help Ginny.The thought pounded her aching head.
Bethie took her empty cup, filled it again, and handed it over. “Yer ill, and I can see from yer countenance yer plannin’ something foolish.”
The over-warm liquid felt like velvet against the rawness of her throat. Her eyes stung, and yes, she longed to lie back and sleep. But she couldn’t. Someone had to see to Ginny. Lorelei swallowed the entire contents and again held the cup out.
Her dutiful soldier poured, despite her tensed jaw. Lorelei feared the woman’s teeth would shatter. That last cup fortified Lorelei enough to venture dropping her legs over the edge of the bed.
“Ye ain’t well enough to go traipsin’ all over kingdom come and back. Ye need yer rest.”
“Be that as it may, you must help me.” She held out her empty cup.
“Help ye with what?” Bethie’s lips formed a grim line, but she poured the pot’s remainder, only a half cup’s worth.
Lorelei stared down into the cup, wishing she knew anything about reading tea leaves. She tossed the rest back in one sound gulp. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel so… so exsiccated.” The look on Bethie’s face was comical, but somehow Lorelei’s ability to laugh was stagnated.
“Pardon?”
Lorelei closed her eyes. The swell of dizziness overtook her ability to speak sensibly. “Exsiccated… you know.” Her voice resounded an echo in her head. The effort to speak grew intense. How else was she to procure help for Ginny? “Exsiccated… dry…” She was almost whispering. She held up her hand for her tea, but the silly thing had taken on a life of its own and refused to obey. “P-parched.” The blasted cur had snuck the laudanum into her tea. That’s why her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth.
Bethie took the miserly little cup and scurried over. She lifted Lorelei’s legs back onto the bed.
“Ye need yer rest, my lady. His lordship will see to that.”
But Ginny. I need to help Ginny…What was wrong with her?
“How’s our ungrateful patient, Bethie?”
“Stubborn, as always, my lord.”
Lorelei’s panic was swallowed into a blackened world.
After a quick consultation with Pogue that included Bethie, Thorne had bounded down the stairs with a desperate hope that the constable had left some insight. Luck was with him. The man had moved inside, dirty water puddled at his feet. “My apologies for the delay, constable. Thank you for staying. Oswald,” Thorne barked.
