Lyn Stone - Marrying Mischief

“In a faraway port?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Yes, Portugal. There has been no rampant outbreak here in England recently, and this is what I am trying to avoid. Firsthand, I witnessed the devastation it caused in India. So, you see why I cannot allow you and Josh to leave. By coming here, being with your brother, you have exposed yourself to it,” he said gently. “Also, I am allowing no possibility that rumors of it will spread and cause panic.”

“But Father—”

“Shall be told, of course, when he comes looking for you. Unfortunately, I dare not send anyone out to inform him. When he comes to the gates, I shall speak with him myself from a safe distance. I know I can trust him not to reveal anything.”

“He is not well himself,” Emily said, “I can only imagine how upset he will be when I do not return home in time for supper. I neglected to tell him where I was going.”

Nicholas sighed and sat back on his heels, holding one of her hands. When had he taken it up and why had she not noticed when he did? She should pull away, but she needed comfort from any source available. Even he would do at the moment.

“Does the vicar have someone to do for him in your absence?” he asked.

Emily nodded, still so shocked by what he had told her, she could not gather her wits. Concentrating on something as mundane as the vicar’s supper seemed somehow inconsequential. Wrong.

Nick patted her hand. “I shall have my mother’s room prepared. She would approve your presence there, I think,” he said with a comforting smile.

Here was the Nick she remembered, Emily thought with relief. At least she knew he still existed inside this sun-kissed, muscled, unkempt rogue who scared her. She tightened her fingers and clasped his hand, holding fast to the only solace she could find.

Josh would be well soon. He had to recover. “What if I sicken from this, Nick? There will be no one to care for my father and Josh. I cannot afford to die!”

He tried to soothe her. “Isn’t there someone who cooks for you at home? What of Mrs. Pease who used to do that?”

“She is still with us. I only meant that there must be someone to pay for her services once Father retires, which must be soon. And Josh will have to be schooled somehow.”

“Ah,” he said, taking her meaning. “You need not worry about that. Even if the worst happens and both of us succumb to the sickness, you may rest assured that your family will lack for nothing in the future.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled, the old sweet smile that had convinced her that he loved her all those years ago. But his smile had not signified it then, and she must not mistake the meaning of it now.

“The instant I made a profit in trade that did not apply to my father’s business, I placed you in my will, Emily. So, as your next of kin, your family would inherit what I would leave to you.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why on earth would you do such a thing? Guilt?”

Certainly, it was guilt, she reminded herself. Only guilt. He had all but seduced a young girl with pretty words, gifts and kisses, then left her the very next day without any explanation, and had stayed away. He had never had any intention of returning to her. A pity it had taken her years to realize that fact. He was no man at all if he felt no remorse for the pain he had caused her.

“Guilt, of course,” he admitted curtly. He released her hand and got to his feet. The stranger who called himself Nicholas was back. “If you are recovered enough that I may leave you alone, I will go and see to your accommodations. Please remain in this room. We are keeping everyone as isolated as is humanly possible.” He snapped a perfunctory bow, turned on his heel and left the room.

Emily sat up, leaned forward and hugged herself, trying to dispel some of the horror she was feeling. A thousand questions occurred to her the instant he was gone. What were the symptoms? How long did it last? How many recovered? She looked around her. Books. There would be answers here somewhere.

Quickly she scrambled off the settee and began examining the titles. She picked a Materia Medica off a shelf at eye level. There was a paper inserted, already marking the section referring to the cholera. Nicholas’s doing, she knew. He would have had the same thought as she.

Emily carried the tome back to where she had been sitting, opened it and began to read. There was precious little to learn there, however. Speculation, mostly. Remedies that worked for one, killed another. The cause of the disease’s spontaneous occurrence, or how it traveled one to another remained mysteries only guessed at by the learned minds who should have the answers and cures.

Moments later, Nicholas returned. “I see you are using the time productively. Ever resourceful, aren’t you?”

She turned a page as she looked up at him. “How long has Josh been affected?”

“Two days out of port after we left Portugal, he came down with fever and began to behave strangely. Two others were similarly affected, all of their complaints consistent with the cholera. Josh and the two men did go ashore together and must have contracted it somewhere there in the city.”

Emily felt the need to strike. “You allowed a young boy to carouse in a foreign port with two sailors? What sort of shipping enterprise do you conduct, sir?”

He raised a brow and glared at her. “One of those sailors is the captain, Emily. A man whom you know and respect. I was not aboard at the time. Captain Roland had business in the city and did not think it wise to leave a young boy alone on the ship without proper supervision, so he kindly took him along.”

“Oh,” Emily said, biting her bottom lip. “The captain has it, too?”

“Unfortunately, but I had sailed enough to chart the course for home, so we headed here. I felt they could not be treated properly at sea.” He went on, dismissing her contrition. “I had the three, including Joshua, confined to the largest cabin. Our doctor volunteered to tend them and remain apart from the rest of the crew. We came ashore and directly here after dark three nights ago. There have been no further cases among us, so we are hopeful it has been contained.”

“What of your staff here?” she asked, wondering why no word of this had circulated within the village.

“I arrived alone and spoke from a distance with the gatekeeper. I simply told him that he and the others were to vacate Bournesea within the hour and hasten to the London house and remain there.”

“And they left? Just like that?”

“They went directly as I commanded. They might be curious, but they would never question my order or disobey me. Father trained them well in that respect.”

Emily nodded, too disturbed over the issue of the sickness to comment upon the old earl’s iron hand with servants. “The doctor has not sickened from his contact with the men and Joshua?”

“No, and he assures me all three are in various stages of recovery. They are incredibly lucky. Few survive it and many die within hours.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “I know. I’ve heard.”

“No one understands how it is carried from person to person,” Nicholas replied in a guarded tone, “but none of us have had close contact with anyone outside the crew since they sickened. I figure another fortnight should tell the tale. If by that time, everyone remains well, we may go about our business and count ourselves extremely fortunate to have been spared.”

“Fortunate indeed,” Emily replied thoughtfully. She laid the book aside and stood. “I will see to Josh myself.”

“No!” he exclaimed, blocking the door as if she were planning a sudden escape. Which she supposed she was, if the truth be known. He visibly forced himself to relax and held out his hands in entreaty. “Emily, you must give it two days. I beg you. I promise if Josh continues to improve as he has thus far, you may see him then. Your contact with him was brief today. Let’s not tempt fate with another visit.”