Page 27 of Much Ado about a Widow

“You may be a bit queasy at first, but once we get the tea down, the ginger will take effect, and you’ll feel much better. This has been a sovereign remedy for mal de mer for generations of sailors.” Perhaps a bit of a distraction would help. “Did you know that Admiral Nelson also suffered from seasickness? All his life. Still, during his entire career he fought it and died a hero despite the affliction.”

“I assure you, I do not intend to make a career of the sea, my lord.”

Rob chuckled and slipped his arm beneath her shoulders.

She stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Moving you into a sitting position so you can drink the tea without drowning in it.” He pulled her up, careful not to spill the tea, until she sat more or less erect. A tempting armful in more ways than one.

“I said ‘no,’ my lord, and I meant it.” Staring directly into his face, she drew her lips inward.

More spirited now. A very good sign. “I also had a bout with seasickness when I was a lad.” He eased his arm from behind her to free his hand. “I was perhaps ten at the time, and I reacted the same as you. Nothing my grandfather said would convince me to drink this tea.” Grasping the handle with one hand, he tested the temperature with the other, to make sure it had cooled sufficiently. “But my grandfather had a remedy for such stubbornness.” He lifted the cup before her eyes. “Would you prefer to take a sip of your own accord, or shall I demonstrate my grandfather’s method?”

If the daggers in her gaze had been real, he’d have been a dead man.

She clamped her lips shut tight.

Very well. Lady’s choice, then.

Without warning, Rob seized her nose, pinched it shut, and waited.

Lady Georgina’s eyes widened, and she batted at his hand, making it hard not to spill the hot tea on her. “My lady, you are going to make me scald you if you keep this up.”

She opened her lips a crack, letting out a squawk before shutting them a second before he could bring the cup to her lips. The dog started its infernal barking, bumping against his boots as if trying to knock him off his pins. This might be the closest to a cell in Bedlam that he’d ever been.

Disregarding the animal, he moved the cup close to her mouth. She couldn’t hold out much longer without breathing. She had spirit, he’d give her that. Her face had taken on a bright red hue before she opened her mouth at last, gasping for breath.

Nimbly, Rob slipped the edge of the cup to her lips and poured.

Coughing, she almost choked, but got a good swallow down.

He released her nose and held the cup out to her. “Would you care to try the next one on your own?”

“Wretch.” She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her white nightgown, frilly lace at sleeves and neck. The elegance of the garment suited her, somehow. Not surprisingly, she took the cup from him.

“One swallow down, one to go before we advance to the broth.” A good sign that the first sip of tea was staying put. Distractions were good, and came in many different forms. He nodded, waited a moment, but when she didn’t move, he reached for the cup once more.

The lady snatched it out of his reach and took a tiny sip. “Are you satisfied with tormenting me, my lord?”

“I am pleased to see you are assisting with your recovery—What is that dog doing?” He peered down at the bit of fluff trying to worry his good leather boots.

“She is protecting me from unscrupulous gentlemen who would take advantage of a lady when she is obviously suffering and incapacitated with a dire illness.” Frowning, Lady Georgina took another small sip, without his prodding this time.

Excellent.

“Well, she is attempting to ruin my best pair of Hessians. Will you call her off before I am forced to interfere in a manner similarly unpleasant?”

Another look of delightful malice from the expressive green eyes, then Lady Georgina called to the animal. “Lulu, go sit in the corner. I’ll tell you if I need you to”—she stopped abruptly and glanced at him—“assist me further.”

Amazingly, the dog seemed to understand her mistress completely, for she trotted to the corner and lay down, muzzle on outstretched paws. What an extraordinary woman.

“And now, my lady, the broth if you please?” He plucked the cup out of her hand and swiftly substituted a bowl of chicken broth instead.

Wrinkling her nose, Lady Georgina curled her lips up. “Are you always such a bully to your captives, Lord St. Just? I must confess I did not suspect this side of your character when we met at Lyttlefield Park last autumn.”

“As I recall, Lady Georgina, at that time you were not attempting to sail the Channel in the dead of winter.”

“Neither would I be doing so at this moment, Lord St. Just, had you not kidnapped me.”