“Doctors don’t grow on the premises, Miss Honeywell,” he retorted sharply. “As to their level of refinement, as you so delicately put it, rest assured that when it comes to curing someone of an illness, that is the least important characteristic I look for. I value competence and practicality.”
She sniffed.
A drink! Where was his drink? He strode towards the sideboard and lifted the decanter, which was empty. That only increased his irritation. “Franz, bring me someSchnaps.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Franz was somewhat old and not the fastest on the premises. Yet he disappeared and promptly reappeared with some goodSchnaps.
The woman followed him every step, chattering incessantly. “Still, what he said about the fever powder can’t be right. We use it all the time. In fact, when the entire house was down with the fever last winter—that is, everyone but me had it, I never fall ill, you know—our doctor administeredthe fever powder and everyone was up and about again within two days. I swear it works, so I am certain that doctor of yours must be wrong. Flour, indeed! I would never give flour to an ill person.” She paused. “Although, I must say they did drink gallons of elderflower tea.” She paused again. “Never say that it was the tea that cured them? Surely not.”
One, two glasses ofSchnaps. It burned its way down but it was precisely what he needed. When he was finished, the poppet was still chattering.
“How very vexatious if that were the case. Has Clar—I mean, Lady Evie been given elderflower tea? And mustard plaster? And oh, I have recalled yet another method that we can try: Dr Rothely’s Purging Elixir. I am told it is the newest miracle cure. Do you happen to have some of that at hand?”
“Never heard of that, and unless you want to poison Lady Evangeline with these so-called miracle cures, I’d say stay well away from it. Lady Evangeline is well taken care of. In fact, here is the maid bringing her supper.” He stepped up to the maid, who was passing through the hall a bowl of broth on a tray.
He stopped her, lifted the spoon and tasted it. “It is still too hot,” he informed the maid. “Make sure to wait until it has cooled and use a fresh spoon. And make sure that whatever plaster you administer isn’t too cold. She is frightened easily, so keep anything that might startle her to a minimum. Lower your voices and keep the window darkened so the light doesn’t hurt her eyes.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
There was an odd expression flitting over Miss Honeywell’s face. But maybe he imagined it, because the very next moment, she schooled her face and it was perfectly amiable.
She folded her hands and smiled blandly. “How well you take care of Lady Evangeline. It is most commendable.”
The butler appeared, sparing him the necessity of a reply. “Supper is served, sir.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Miss Honeywell?” He gestured to the dining room.
She passed him, looking up at him through veiled eyes.
A whiff of violets entered his nostrils. Sweet, light, fleeting.
He wrinkled his nose.
To his relief, Schneider joined them for supper, so he did not have to entertain Miss Honeywell alone. But his initial relief quickly turned to annoyance. The man was far too eager in his attention towards Miss Honeywell, Georg found.
He had no clue why that would bother him. And why he spent so much time observing the minutiae of Miss Honeywell’s appearance: the fine, copper hair that curled around her face, the slightly pointed chin, the little mole on her jaw close to her left ear, the heart-shaped mouth that was in constant motion, when all he could remember of his bride’s appearance was that she was vaguely fine looking.
That was rather intolerable, that he should find himself noticing such details about the companion rather than the woman he was to marry soon.
He frowned into his goulash soup.
It must stop. Now.
He managedto avoid Miss Honeywell for the greater part of the coming week, by locking himself in his study and devoting himself to estate work. There was much to see to, for estates were not run on their own; while he had acapable steward, there was a great deal that needed to be attended to. Then, there was the matter of the missing agent, and by now it was clear that something had happened to him; there was no word from him and he had not reported back to the War Council, either.
That was inconvenient, but there was nothing to be done about it.
As for Lady Evangeline, after the fever had broken, she began recovering nicely. The doctor predicted another week and she would be back on her feet. Just in time to return to Vienna for the official announcement of the engagement at the embassy.
At the thought, he felt his neckcloth was tied too tightly and he tugged at it. He would get the thing done and over with, as swiftly and efficiently as possible, as if it were yet another operation to get out of his way.
Afterwards, he’d return to his headquarters on the Rhine.
They would be seeing little of each other as it was. She would remain in Vienna, he would be in Germany, and he supposed that was the way of things.
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
He heard a bright, female voice from below.
