“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, squirming against him as he carried her towards the entry hall.
“I should think it’s rather obvious,” he said, not breaking stride. “I’m taking you to your bedchamber.”
“I do not need—nor want—your help.”
“And yet,” he said, adjusting his hold on her, “you have it.”
“Put me down this instant!”
“No.”
“Dominic—”
“You need to be examined by a doctor.”
“This is absurd,” she muttered, wriggling again.
“What’s absurd is that you’re fighting me while clearly unwell,” he retorted.
“I merely stood too fast. You’re making a fuss over nothing. You needn’t concern yourself with me.”
Behind them, Mrs. Haverleigh’s voice rang with thinly veiled exasperation. “Stop being so stubborn, Dorothea. Let the man help you.”
Dorothea scowled, folding her arms as best she could while being carried. “I am not an invalid.”
“I never said you were,” Dominic replied.
At the top of the stairs, Tabitha appeared, eyes wide with worry. She hurried to open the door to Dorothea’s bedchamber and stepped aside to let them pass.
Dominic carried Dorothea inside and gently laid her down on the bed, brushing a few stray curls from her flushed cheek. “How are you feeling now?”
She turned her face away and crossed her arms again. “I am still very angry at you.”
“That’s reassuring. But I meant physically. What ills you?”
Dorothea shifted her gaze to Tabitha. “Will you kindly inform Lord Warwicke that I merely have the symptoms of influenza?”
Tabitha blinked. “Do you want me to tell him that when he’s standing two feet away from you?”
Dominic studied Dorothea’s complexion. “You’re flushed. And you were perfectly fine earlier. Why do you think it’s influenza?”
She huffed in frustration. “Because my stomach is churning, my body aches, and I got lightheaded. Influenza symptoms, every one of them.”
“So, how were you eating breakfast without complaint just an hour ago?”
With a groan, Dorothea reached for a pillow and placed it over her face. “Go away, Dominic.”
But something gnawed at him. The sudden onset. The odd timing. The symptoms came too swiftly.
What if it wasn’t illness at all?
What if it was poison?
He grabbed a chair and dragged it closer to the bed, sitting down without invitation. “Did you eat or drink anything during your visit with your guests?”
Her voice came muffled beneath the pillow. “Why do you care?”
“Just humor me.”
