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Mr. Siddons’s hand closed around her arm again. “You need money?” he demanded.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I have plenty,” Lady D said.
Her two employees whipped their heads around in unison and glared at her.
“Well, it’s the truth,” she said, hmmphing loudly.
“Why do you need money?” Mr. Siddons asked softly.
“That is none of your concern!”
But Lady Danbury obviously thought it was, because she said, “It all started when—”
“Lady Danbury, please!” Elizabeth shot her a pleading look. It was hard enough to be so pressed for funds. To have the countess shame her in front of a stranger…
Lady Danbury seemed to realize—for once—that she had overstepped herself and closed her mouth.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and let out a breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’m thirsty,” Lady D stated.
“Right,” Elizabeth said, mostly to herself, although her words were loud enough for everyone to hear. “The tea.”
“What are you waiting for?” Lady Danbury demanded, thumping her cane.
“A sainthood,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath.
Mr. Siddons’s eyes widened. Oh, blast, he’d heard her. She’d grown so used to being alone with Lady Danbury that she’d forgotten to watch what she whispered to herself.
But Mr. Siddons, to her great surprise, abruptly let go of her arm and started to cough. And then, just when any normal person would have ceased, he doubled over, collapsed against the wall, and started coughing even more violently.
Elizabeth’s antagonism gave way to concern as she leaned down. “Are you all right?”
He nodded hurriedly, without removing his hand from his mouth.
“Has he something stuck in his throat?” Lady Danbury yelled.
“I can’t imagine what,” Elizabeth replied. “He wasn’t eating anything.”
“Whack his back,” Lady D said. “Whack it hard.”
Mr. Siddons shook his head and dashed out of the room.
“Perhaps you should follow,” Lady Danbury suggested. “And don’t forget to whack him.”
Elizabeth blinked twice, shrugged her shoulders, and quit the room, thinking that whacking him on the back might prove to be a rather satisfying endeavor. “Mr. Siddons?” She looked left and right but didn’t see him. “Mr. Siddons?”
And then she heard it. Great big roars of laughter coming from around the corner. She shut the door with alacrity.
By the time she rounded the corner, Mr. Siddons was sitting on a cushioned bench, gasping for air.
“Mr. Siddons? James?”
He looked up, and suddenly he didn’t seem quite as dangerous as he had the day before. “A sainthood,” he squeaked. “Good God, yes, we all deserve one.”
“Well, you’ve only been here a few days,” Elizabeth pointed out. “You’ve a couple more years in her company, I think, before you could even be considered for martyr.”
