One moment she was skating in circles, laughing. The next her face paled and her joy disappeared. “I think I’ve overdone it,” she whispered, slowing, and raising the back of her hand to her forehead. He reached her as she came to a full stop.
“I feel dizzy. Too much spinning,” she whispered.
John suspected she had imbibed unaccustomed spirits too quickly. He put his arm around her and turned her toward the shore. “Forgive me for being forward, Lady Sophie, but I think you need to sit for a while.”
She nodded. A moment later she moaned, “I feel horrible.”
They were almost to the shore when her ginger cake made an abrupt return, and chocolate followed it to the ground. “Sweet mercy,” she groaned. John pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her, navigating to the bench all the while.
He encouraged her to sit and lean over, her head on her knees. She vomited again, losing her breakfast and more. She murmured “I’m sorry so sorry,” over and over incoherently.
This is too much for a drink of spirits. Something is terribly wrong.
John removed her skates and his own. One of the younger footmen ran over and took them, while John lifted her into his arms. “When will the coach be back?”
“Not soon, I fear. There’s a pony wagon, my lord. We used it to transport the food,” the boy said. “It isn’t much…
By then her friends had circled round, some of the ladies terrified, the gentlemen offering assistance.
“I’ll take her up to the house. You and the others make sure the footmen pack up all the food and drink. Don’t touch any of it! Something is very wrong.”
Peter took charge, directing the nearest footman to show John to the cart, and ordering the others to stop serving food and drink.
Minutes later Sophie lay on her side in the back of the little wagon, towels cradling her head while John drove as fast as he could to the kitchen yard of the manor house. When he lifted her, she demanded to get down, and promptly got sick into the herb garden.
He gathered her up, burst into the kitchen, and barked orders like the lieutenant colonel he once was. “Summon Lady Sophie’s maid and the countess. She has become ill. I’m taking her to her room.” The sight of Belinda Westcott startled him. What was she doing in the kitchen? She had flattened herself against the wall and gone pale, as if she saw a ghost.
“Miss Westcott, your cousin needs assistance. Kindly show me to her room.” He marched through the green baize door to the public rooms without waiting for a reply.
Chapter 6
Brushing past Ridgemont,Bel knelt by the bed, pulled off Sophie’s pelisse, and began unbuttoning her gown. “Susan, fetch Lady Sophie’s nightgown! Also, water and clean toweling,” she said without looking up. The girl scurried away.
Bel sensed the earl hovering behind her, but refused to look at him. “You must leave, your lordship. Spare my cousin her blushes.” She turned to fetch a cloth from the washstand and came face to face with him, still in the doorway, his expression grim. He wasn’t peering at Sophie; he was studying Bel.
“I asked you to leave. A gentleman would…”
He blinked. “Yes, of course. I will go back to check on the rest of the party. I had the food locked away, but who knows how many people were sickened.”
Bel’s stomach clenched.How did George bungle my orders?
“We will talk about this when your cousin is well, Miss Westcott. Wewilltalk about this.” He left before she could answer him.
Angels above, did he guess?Bel forced the thought away. She had to focus on what she’d done to her cousin. There would be time for guilt and remorse later.
Susan returned with fresh water. “Let me help with that gown, Miss Westcott.” The two of them had her out of it soon enough, and washed the worst of the sick away.
At Bel’s orders, the maid fetched lavender soap, and they washed her again before removing her soiled chemise. In all the commotion, Sophie groaned and begged for a basin. Long minutes later, the girl lay back limp and pale, her eyes closed. They managed to get her into a clean nightgown without setting her off again.
“Fetch the clean wash bowl from the washstand in my room and then empty this one,” Bel ordered.
Bel laid wet cloths on Susan’s forehead. The incoherent noises Sophie made worried her. The dose in the flagon had been prepared for a man of Ridgemont’s size and weight. It was far too much for a little wren like Sophie.
She grabbed up a paper from the tiny desk in the corner of Sophie’s room and wrote out instructions for fetching peppermint and yarrow. She didn’t trust the kitchen to make the tea so she asked for the containers.
Susan returned, set down the clean basin and picked up the dirty one. “Can you read, Susan?” Bel asked.
“Not well, miss. But I know my letters,” the girl replied.
