He stooped, then lifted Elizabeth into his arms. He settled her, then nodded at Caro. “Lead the way. You’re right—she needs to be horizontal.‘
Getting Elizabeth—who truly was as good as unconscious—down the narrow stairs was no easy feat. With help from Caro and Edward, Michael managed it; once he gained the lower deck, Caro looked past him and called to Edward, who’d been helping from behind. “Cold water, a bowl, and some cloths.”
Grim-faced, Edward nodded. “I’ll get them.”
Caro turned and hurried ahead to hold the door to the stern cabin open. Michael angled his awkward burden through, then walked to the bunk bed the sailor had hurriedly made up, and laid Elizabeth down.
She moaned again. She was whiter than the proverbial sheet—her fine skin looked almost green.
“She lost her breakfast over the rail.” Michael stepped back, met Caro’s worried eyes. “Is there anything else you need?”
She bit her lip, then shook her head. “Not at present—just that water.”
He nodded and turned for the door. “Call me when she wants to come up again—she won’t be able to manage the stairs without help.”
Distractedly, Caro murmured her thanks. Leaning over Elizabeth, she brushed tendrils of damp hair off her forehead. She heard the door softly close; glancing around, she confirmed the sailor had left, too. Gently, she folded Elizabeth’s forearm over her chest.
Elizabeth moaned again. “It’s all right, sweetheart—I’m going to loosen your laces.”
Edward brought the water in an ewer with a basin; Caro met him at the door and took them. “Is she all right?” he asked.
She will be.“ Caro grimaced. ”It never occurred to me she might be seasick.“
With a worried glance, Edward left. Caro bathed Elizabeth’s face and hands, then eased her up so she could sip from a glass. She was still very pale, but her skin no longer felt quite so clammy.
She sank back on the pillows with a sigh and a little shiver.
“Just sleep.” Unwinding her shawl, Caro draped it over Elizabeth’s shoulders and chest, then brushed the pale curls from her forehead. “I’ll be here.”
She didn’t need to look out of the portholes set across the stern to know the yacht had heeled and turned. The chop and slap of the Solent’s waters had faded; the hull was once more riding smoothly, slowly gliding back up the estuary.
Elizabeth dozed. Caro sat in the cabin’s only chair. After a time, she rose and stretched, then crossed to the row of portholes. She studied the catches, then opened one, pushing it wide. A faint breeze drifted in, stirring the stale air in the cabin. She opened two more of the five round windows, then heard a rattle and a great splash.
Glancing at the narrow bunk, she saw Elizabeth hadn’t stirred. Peering out, she glimpsed the shore. The captain had dropped anchor. Presumably lunch would be served soon.
She debated, but decided against leaving Elizabeth. With a sigh, she sank back onto the chair.
Sometime later, a soft tap sounded on the door. Elizabeth slept on; crossing the cabin, Caro opened the door. Michael stood in the corridor holding a tray.
“Campbell picked out what he thought you and Elizabeth would like. How is she?”
“Still sleeping.” Caro reached to take the tray.
Michael gestured her back. “It’s heavy.”
With her shawl covering her, Elizabeth was decent enough; Caro stepped back. Michael carried the tray to the table; she followed, studying the plates as he set the tray down.
“Once she wakes, you should try to get her to eat something.”
She glanced at him, then grimaced. “I’ve never been seasick— have you?‘
Michael shook his head. “But I’ve seen plenty of others who were. She’ll feel weak and woozy when she awakes. Now that we’re back in calmer waters, eating something will help.”
Caro nodded, looked back at Elizabeth.
He hesitated, then said, “Geoffrey’s a trifle queasy, too.”
Caro turned back to him, eyes widening in concern.
“That’s why he hasn’t been down to ask about Elizabeth. He’s not as badly affected as she—he’ll be better off in the open air.”
A frown creased her brow; he suppressed an urge to run his thumb over her forehead and ease it away— squeezed her shoulder lightly instead. “Don’t worry about Geoffrey—Edward and I will keep an eye on him.” With a nod, he indicated Elizabeth. “You’ve enough on your hands.”
Caro followed his nod, remained looking at Elizabeth. He hesitated, then turned away. As he opened the door, he heard Caro’s soft “Thank you.” Saluting her, he stepped out and softly closed the door.
Back on the main deck, he joined the other guests around the tables Ferdinand’s crew had set up to display the delicacies of an alfresco meal. He chatted with General Kleber, who’d spent the previous day touring Bucklers Hard, the center of the local shipbuilding industry, then moved on to speak with the duke and the count, furthering his understanding of their country’s views on a number of pertinent trade issues.
Once the meal was over and the tables cleared away, the ladies gathered behind the forecastle to gossip. Most of the men drifted to the rails, finding spots to lounge and enjoy the sunshine. The breeze, previously brisk, had faded to a gentle zephyr; the soft slap of rippling waves was punctuated by the raucous cries of gulls.
A postprandial peace settled over the yacht.
Michael found himself at the stern, for the moment alone. Ferdinand, deprived of Caro’s company, had initially sulked. Now he’d cornered Edward Campbell; the pair were lounging against a capstan. Michael would have wagered a considerable sum that Ferdinand was trying to learn more about Caro via her secretary. In that, he wished him luck; despite his relative youth, Campbell seemed well up to snuff, experienced enough and sufficiently devoted to Caro to ensure he revealed nothing useful.
Drawing in a breath, filling his lungs with the tangy air, Michael turned his back on the rest of the yacht and leaned on the stern rail. The junction of Southampton Water and the Solent lay some distance away; beyond, the Isle of Wight rose, a silhouette across the horizon.
“Here—try some of this. It’s quite bland.”
Caro’s voice. He glanced down, and noticed the open portholes. Elizabeth must be awake.
“I’m not sure…”
“Try it—don’t argue. Michael said you should eat, and I’m sure he’s right. You don’t want to swoon again.”
“Oh, heavens! How on earth am I to face him—or any of them? How
“Nonsense!” Caro spoke bracingly, but it sounded as if she, too, were eating. “When things like this happen, the correct way to handle it is to create no further fuss. It was unforeseen, nothing could be done to avoid it, it happened, and now it’s over. One deals with it in the most straightforward manner and gives oneself no airs, nor must you appear to be making yourself interesting because of your illness.”
Silence, punctuated by the clink of cutlery.
“So…” Elizabeth’s voice seemed to have gained some strength; it sounded almost normal. “I should simply smile and thank people, and…”
“And put it behind you. Yes, that’s right.”
“Oh.”
Another pause; this time, Caro broke it. “You know, being subject to seasickness is not a great recommendation for a diplomat’s wife.”
Her tone was musing, considering.
Michael raised his brows. Recalled his earlier suspicion that Caro knew of his interest in Elizabeth.
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure Edward fixes his sights somewhere other than the Foreign Office.”
Michael blinked.
“Perhaps the Home Office. Or maybe under the Chancellor.”
He heard Caro shift.
“We really must give the point some serious thought.”
Her voice faded as she moved further from the portholes; she and Elizabeth continued to discuss this and that, but he heard nothing more about diplomats’ wives and the requirements and criteria for same.
