Schneider arrived with a doctor in tow, having had the presence of mind to enquire amongst the guests. His aide-de-camp was resourceful, quick-thinking, and, most importantly, loyal. In situations like this, he was indispensable.
The doctor emerged sooner than expected, shoving the poppet, who was protesting, out of the room in front of him. “Measles,” he said curtly.
Georg exhaled sharply. Just what they needed. A measles outbreak in an overfilled inn.
“And what’s worse, this lady here has not had the measles yet.” The doctor jerked his chin at the poppet. “I fear she’ll be our next patient.”
She disregarded him, and pivoted on her heel with the intention of re-entering the room.
Georg’s hand clamped about her arm and held her back.
“You can’t go in there if you haven’t had the measles, Miss Honeywell.” Schneider’s voice was dripping with horror. “You’ll fall ill yourself.”
“Will you unhand me, sir!” She turned to him with such imperious outrage that Georg almost, just almost, dropped his hand, but instead tightened his grip.
“We must talk,” he bit out. “Downstairs.” To Schneider, he said, “Get the details from the doctor.”
Since she seemed disinclined to follow his order, he unceremoniously marched her down the stairs and steered her towards a table in a secluded corner of the room, andgestured for her to sit down. The innkeeper approached them and he ordered a meal for himself.
“Fräulein?” the innkeeper asked.
She shrugged. “The same.”
“We appear to have a grave problem,” Georg said without ceremony. “The measles might be a childhood illness, but it can have severe repercussions on adults.” He was speaking from experience. Any outbreak of such disease within his ranks was every commander’s nightmare. Disease often killed more men than combat itself. “You cannot enter Lady Evangeline’s room without risking coming down with the illness yourself. The doctor says?—”
Was there something wrong with her? Was she truly daft? She kept staring at him with wide, astonished eyes, as though he were the fire-spitting man at a village fair.
He interrupted himself, unnerved, wishing she would blink.
When she finally did, he was rather relieved.
She muttered something.
He leaned forward to catch her words, and he may have imagined it, for he thought she said something sounding suspiciously like, “It’s beyond belief. The joke of the century.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She eyed him from head to foot. “Are you truly Lady Evie’s betrothed? You did not make that up?”
He threw her an irritated look. “Why the devil would I make that up?”
She made a throwaway hand movement. “Oh, I don’t know. Men can have all sorts of motives. To take advantage of a pair of helpless travelling females, for one.”
“It would never occur to me to take advantage of a pairof helpless travelling females,” he snapped. “Who do you think I am?” Really, the nerve of the girl. He had much better things to do with his time than concern himself with her, but she was Lady Evie’s companion, so he could hardly disregard her.
“That is the question, is it not?”
He huffed. “I have already introduced myself. I need not do so a second time.”
She crossed her arms. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“Your identity, naturally. What was it you said? It is a mere precautionary measure to prove one’s identity.”
For a moment he was speechless. The poppet was askinghimto prove his identity? He’d never had to prove his identity to anyone, least of all to a lowly lady’s companion. He struggled to answer in a level, reasonable manner. “I already did. By mentioning Lady Evangeline’s way of escaping from her governess. How would I know that if I had not read it from her brother’s letters?”
Her eyes flashed. “Piffle. You clearly know little about a lady’s upbringing. For if you did, you would know that there is hardly anyone who is pestered by tutors and governesses who does not attempt to escape them at some point in their life.”
