Page 173 of The Discount Damsel

Jerry’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his red hat. “Teacakes? Why, that sounds like something fancy the Crystal would serve, Nash, dontcha think? Reckon I’d like to try one of those.”

“Me, too,” Nash said. “If you don’t mind, miss.”

“Not at all.”

Dirk whimpered softly. First his beloved lychees, now she was offering up his beloved teacakes. Dirk was glad Duchess wasn’t here, lest Millie trade away his favorite cat.

“Spank me with a spyglass,” Jerry groaned as he tasted a teacake. “That’s fantastic.”

“Jer, we got a lady present. An’ a fine baker at that.” He bobbed a nod at Millie.

She flushed. “Oh, I’m not a baker⁠—”

“I reckon one of these teacakes is worth a ride for you and your friends.” Jerry jerked his chin towards the apprentice. “If that big one doesn’t mind helping if the arthritis acts up.”

The fisherman gestured them inside the gently bobbing boat, holding out his hand to help Millie.

The moment she set foot upon the bench, Millie’s stomach lurched. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, stifling a burp, and gave Jerry a weak smile. “Just some indigestion.”

“Eel can be a bit rich to those unaccustomed to it,” he agreed.

She sat, tense as her stomach continued to sway, hand perched lightly upon the gunwale.

When Bradley joined them, the boat rocking under the addition of new weight, her stomach threw itself into her throat like a squirrel escaping a house fire by scampering up the chimney—frantic, panicked, and determined to get out.

“No,” she whined. “No, noooo⁠—”

The rowboat wobbled as Jerry took a step forward to place a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Miss?”

Millie heaved her breakfast into the sea. And last night’s supper. And yesterday’s afternoon tea.

“Blimey,” Jerry exclaimed, pitching back and stimulating another volley from Millie’s stomach.

She did not stop retching until Bradley manhandled her up onto the pier and rolled over onto her side.

“Millie.” Dirk fanned her quickly. “Oh, Bradley, what do we do? Have you ever seen a face turn that green before?”

Millie spat the bile from her mouth and pushed herself upright on shaking arms into a seated position.

Jerry gave her a woeful look. “Sorry to say it, miss, but it seems you’re a landlubber through and through.”

“A-a what?”

“You have acute seasickness,” Bradley translated.

“But she wants to be a pirate,” Dirk sputtered. “How can she be a pirate if she can’t set foot in a boat?”

“A what?” It was Jerry’s turn to sputter. “Pirate? Good-day to you all.” He shoved away from the pier with an oar and rowed faster than any old man with arthritis had any right to do.

No. Millie wiped the yellow-tinged spittle away from her mouth with her wrist. No.

The sunlight of what had promised to be a wondrous day blackened as the apprentice crouched down in front of her.

Months ago, Bradley would have laughed in her face. But now, his blue eyes bore into hers with a strange intensity. “What are you going to do now, Tula?”

CHAPTER 71

POSSIBLE FOOD POISONING, AN ATTRACTIVE LIBRARIAN, AND GINGER TONICS