Page 53 of My Fair Lord

Ned obeyed at once. The vegetable soup was smooth and velvety. Both comforting and bland enough that it made him feel instantly better. He buttered a cracker and nibbled it. When it appeared happy to stay consumed, he finished the soup.

“We had lobster bisque and roast pork at lunch. I don’t suppose you would like any of that sending down?” Florence asked.

The only reply Ned managed was a shake of his head as he reached for another cracker. Florence laughed kindly.

“Perhaps tomorrow. I imagine the chefs must get used to catering for the seasick. If it’s any consolation, my sister has been lying on her sofa all morning with a wet flannel over her face and a peppermint tisane at her side.”

Lord and Lady Griggs had taken full advantage of their wealth and status to secure staterooms on the top floor of the ship. Ned could only imagine what their rooms were like if they were large enough to accommodate a sofa. He looked round him. His cabin was small, with a bed with storage beneath it, a washstand, and the dressing table and chair, but little else. Florence looked around too.

“This is very small, isn’t it? I’m so sorry Lord Griggs refused to buy you a first-class cabin. It’s quite embarrassing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ned assured her truthfully. At least he was not in steerage down in the depths of the ship where bunks were separated merely by curtains to offer only a little privacy. “I’m extremely grateful to him for paying for my passage at all. He was under no obligation to do so.”

“Yes, but it is rather annoying,” Florence said. “I was hoping to be able to continue our lessons as we have a week at sea. With you on this deck and me above, it will make everything so much more problematic. We could meet on the promenade deck to talk and I’m sure I can pay the stewards to look the other way so you can come visiting me.”

Ned’s plans for the voyage so far had involved not dying of misery or sickness. If he had thought about the remainder of the journey, he might have mentioned feeling well enough to eat, and perhaps recuperating enough to promenade on deck after dark. He made non-committal noises.

Florence pursed her lips. “We’ll have to pretend you are someone important travelling in disguise. I shall start a rumour that you are a marquis or earl, or a Member of Parliament.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Ned said cautiously. The last thing he wanted was anyone beginning to speculate on his identity. He reached for his orange.

“Well, I think it’s an excellent idea. That way, when we arrive in New York, everyone will be keen to discover who you are. You will have some history behind you, even if it is only a week old. Father won’t even think to question if you are real or not because if he mentions your name, someone will be able to say, ‘Ah, yes. That’s the fellow who travelled here incognito, jolly good chap’ and he’ll be convinced.”

She had a point. He had boarded the ship under the name Ned Blake. Anyone looking on the passenger lists for Viscount Telford, the name they had eventually decided upon, would not find anyone of that name.

“Mmm,” Ned mumbled. “It’s certainly something to ponder. If you will pardon me, however, I think I might need a short nap to allow the broth to do its good work.”

“Yes, how insensitive of me.” Florence straightened his pillowslip, ridding it of the indentation of Ned’s head. Her hand rested in the spot. It was an oddly intimate gesture that made Ned’s stomach flutter. She reached out and patted his hand.

“You’ll start to feel better soon, I’m sure, and then we can have such fun while we sail. I’m sure you’ll love it once you find your sea legs.”

She left. Once the steward had removed the tray, Ned climbed back onto his bed. He didn’t feel like sleeping but lay with his head on the pillow, reforming the dent Florence had erased and imagining he could still smell the trace of her perfume.

* * *

Life on board theCity of Brugeswas wonderfully interesting. Florence had the utmost pity for Cordelia who had not yet left her cabin. Fortunately, Twemlow’s constitution was robust so he was able to escort Florence to eat in the magnificent dining room with stained glass lamps, a wide, domed skylight, and chairs which were affixed to the floor but which swivelled to allow the sitter to turn and stand. Florence and Twemlow both agreed that it was an innovation that should be introduced to houses.

Her only disappointment was that Ned and Cordelia were suffering so much, but at least a steward had brought a note from him, thanking Florence for her kind attention and suggesting they meet after lunch for a walk along the promenade deck.

She practically skipped into Cordelia’s stateroom. Cordelia was in her customary position on her sofa, a blanket tucked around her to the neck.

“Mr Blake is feeling better. I’m going to suggest a game of quoits this afternoon. Do you think you might revive enough to make a four with Twemlow?”

“I’m not leaving this room until we’re safely in New York,” Cordelia moaned weakly. She patted the sofa. Florence shuffled onto the end, just about finding space beside Cordelia’s stockinged feet.

“You poor thing, you look so grey. Is there anything I can have brought to you? I know Mr Blake revived almost before my eyes when he was eating soup yesterday afternoon.”

“I’m content with peppermint tea, milk and rusks, thank you,” Cordelia said quickly, her mouth twitching.

“I don’t recall you being this ill on the way out,” Florence said.

Cordelia winced then to Florence’s surprise, she smiled. “I’m not completely sure but I suspect there is an additional reason for my sickness. I might be carrying an extra passenger.”

She put her hands to her belly.

“You’re with child!” Florence shrieked.

“Shhh! I said I’m not certain. I haven’t even told Twemlow, so you must keep it to yourself. In February we thought we were lucky, but it came to nothing.”