Page 35 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

She jerked her hand from his and, abruptly, rose from her chair. For a moment she feared she would be sick. She clutched her hand to her mouth and turned away from him.

Justin was at her side in an instant. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

He rested his hand at the small of her back, guiding her to an overstuffed sofa near the fireplace.

Outside, the skies darkened and thunder rent the air. It was followed by the sound of driving rain. It fell hard and fast against the windows of their room.

Helena hardly noticed the worsening weather. She sank down on the damask-covered sofa. “I fear I’ve drunk too much champagne.”

More lies. It wasn’t strong drink that made her stomach roil and caused perspiration to spring to her brow.

“I’m not used to it,” she said. “I never even drink wine, except at Christmas.”

Justin sat down beside her. “I wish you’d told me. I would have stopped filling your glass.”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. His gray eyes were dark with concern. “You’ve gone white as a ghost.”

She ducked her head away from him. “Have I?”

“Shall I summon a doctor?”

The suggestion sent a jolt of alarm through her. “No. Absolutely not.” The last thing in the world she wanted was to be examined by a doctor. She hated the breed and trusted them even less.

“He might be able to prescribe something for it.”

Of course he would prescribe something. A bleeding, no doubt. In her bitter experience, medical men never passed on an opportunity to apply leeches or open a lady’s veins. “No,” she said again. “Truly, Justin. I don’t need anything. I’m only a little lightheaded.”

“Then just sit here a moment.” His hand moved gently on her back. “It’ll pass. It always does.”

Helena tried to focus on his words. To quell the rising panic in her breast. All would be well. When they returned to the Abbey, she would explain everything. He wasn’t an unreasonable man. Surely he would understand.

“You sound as though you were speaking from experience,” she said.

“Naturally. When I first arrived in India, I often drank too much.” A wry smile edged Justin’s mouth. “I was a British soldier in a devilish hot climate. It was practically obligatory.”

She looked up at him. “Were you terribly homesick?”

“There was nothing to be homesick for.”

“Not even for England?” she asked. “Not even for the sea?”

He seemed to consider. “I confess I did miss the sea. I daresay I should have joined Her Majesty’s Navy. But to a boy who’d spent the whole of his life staring out at the water, sailing away on a ship didn’t seem like much of an adventure. I didn’t want weevily biscuits and watch and watch about. I wanted the desert. The sound of foreign tongues and the taste of food rich with spices.”

“And drink,” she said.

“And drink,” he concurred. “Champagne is nothing compared to bhang and brandy. The few occasions I was foolish enough to indulge, my batman was obliged to make me a special physic. A noxious substance. A highly effective one, too. I’d attempt to replicate it, but I’d probably end up poisoning you.”

She huffed with unwilling amusement. “I shouldn’t like that.”

“Nor would I.” He drew his knuckles along the edge of her jaw. “I’ve only just acquired you. I’m not quite ready to let you go.”

A queer sort of ache settled in Helena’s heart. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He scanned her face, a hint of a smile still playing on his lips. “You’re getting your color back, at least.”