Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I turned back to Alexander, finding him watching me with an affectionate expression on his face. The clerk had discreetly closed the door behind us, leaving us alone, and I had been too caught up in the drawing supplies that I had failed to take note.
“What is in this box?” I asked.
“Open it and see,” Alexander invited.
I lifted the lid and discovered cakes of watercolor within, along with a glass for water and a palette in a lower drawer. Ultramarine, Prussian blue, Carmine, Purple Lake, Venetian red, and yellow ochre were lined up neatly, their bright hues beckoning for a paintbrush.
“It is a painting box,” I exclaimed softly. “It’s beautiful.”
I had never seen anything so fine. After so many years of making the ends of pencils and scraps of paper my father had cast off suffice, the sight of so many new, glorious implements was like something from a dream.
“Do you like it?” Alexander asked.
I turned back to him. “I adore it. Thank you for arranging for me to see it. Perhaps I will have a few small pencils. Enough to last me until another trip to London.”
“I’m afraid not,” Alexander said. “You’re to have it all, Maddie mine.”
My mouth fell open. “Everything?”
He nodded, grinning. “Everything. And more, too. Bellingham will procure anything you like. All we need do is ask.”
I pressed a hand over my heart. “But this must be a small fortune.”
“I told you that I intended to spoil you, and I meant it.”
Tears pricked my eyes, and I had to take a moment to blink furiously to keep them from falling. He had remembered our first conversation in the carriage, the day he had brought me to Wheaton from Cliffwood.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Alexander,” I managed. Nothing had ever prepared me for this man. For this life.
“It isn’t your thanks I want,” he told me. “It’s your happiness.”
“You have that,” I told him softly, love for him swelling in my heart. “More than I ever imagined possible.”
He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “Good. Now come along, wife. We have some furs, fans, and furniture to peruse.”
“We shall fill your house,” I protested.
“Our house, Maddie mine,” he corrected, pulling me into him for a kiss.
“Alexander,” I protested against his lips with a delighted squeak. “What if someone comes upon us?”
“Let them.”
His lips moved over mine, and I forgot to care.
“I don’t think London agrees with my constitution,” I told Lydia just before I retched for the second time in my chamber pot.
My stomach roiled, and the room spun around me.
I was meant to be getting dressed for a final call upon Lord and Lady Beckett before Alexander and I returned to Wheaton, but after rising from Alexander’s bed and venturing next door to my bedchamber, I had quickly begun to fall ill.
With a violent heave, I emptied the remnants of my stomach into the porcelain vessel.
Lydia calmly soothed me, her hand rubbing between my shoulder blades. “I’ve never heard of London making anyone bilious.”
“Then perhaps I ate bad fish.” I passed the back of my hand over my mouth in an indecorous swipe, trying to recall what our meals had been the day before and where we had taken them.
My stomach violently rebelled at the very notion of fish, and I wished I hadn’t spoken the concern aloud. I moaned, hanging my head back over the chamber pot as another heave went through me. Blessedly, nothing emerged this time. Apparently, I had emptied my accounts entirely.
“I don’t believe there was a fish course at all yesterday,” Lydia mused. “Cook prepared a roast, haricot verts, white soup…”
My stomach surged again. “Please, don’t speak of food.”
The mere thought of any sustenance at all made me want to vomit anew.
“Forgive me. I’ll fetch you a cool cloth for your brow. Perhaps that will help.”
I was on my knees on the Axminster in my chemise and stockings, which was as far as Lydia had been able to get with my toilette before I had grown sick. My knees ached and I still felt faintly dizzied. What unexpected misery after such a wonderful trip to Town. I remained where I was as Lydia returned to me with calm efficiency, bringing me a cloth she had dampened and wrung of excess liquid and setting it over my brow.
“Thank you, dear friend.” Wincing, I held the cloth to my head and closed my eyes to keep the walls from dancing. “I have been feeling a bit odd for the last few days. Yesterday, I was so tired that I needed to nap in the afternoon, and my head ached terribly. Perhaps I’ve been coming down with an ague and didn’t realize it.”
“Perhaps,” Lydia said, a strange note entering her voice.
I opened my eyes, staring at her, noting an odd expression on her countenance as well. “Why are you looking at me that way? Have I something on my chin?”