Page 30 of What Lies Beneath

“It is,” Regina agreed, feeling guilty for having avoided dining with the earl.

It had been cowardly, she knew, but her anxiety over having to face him again after the previous night had risen to such a pitch, she really had developed a headache. So even though she hated asking, for she knew it was an inconvenience to the staff to lug hot water up four flights of stairs for someone who was little better than they were, she had begged for the indulgence of a bath. Though it was only a small tub, the kind you could only crouch in, not sit in properly, it had still revived her, and she had slept better than she had expected to.

This morning she felt far braver than she had yesterday and resolved to speak to the earl like a sensible woman and not make a mountain out of a molehill. Nothing was going to change in the immediate future, and she would do well not to borrow trouble.

So it was that she and Tilly sailed into the breakfast room, chatting easily and she was able to bid Lord Ashburton a good morning with little more than a minor qualm.

His lordship, however, though hidden from view behind his newspaper, jumped at the sound of her voice and almost threw the newspaper to one side in his haste to get to his feet.

“Good morning to you,” he replied, sounding a little frantic.

Regina looked at him uncertainly. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his usual cool, calm demeanour seemed to be a little, well, frayed. Yes, he looked a little frayed around the edges, she thought. Perhaps his day with Mr Evans had not gone well; Tilly had explained where he had gone yesterday and for what purpose. Of course it could be one of many things making him look so unsettled, none of which were at all her affair. Yet he had implied that he wished her to be his friend, and friends worried about each other, did they not?

Tilly, apparently noticing nothing amiss, kissed her father on the cheek and settled herself down at her place. Regina smiled her thanks to the footman who drew out her chair, and sat down beside her, grateful Tilly was between her and the earl.

Having accepted a serving of eggs and toast and a cup of tea, Regina waited until the serving staff had left them alone before casting another surreptitious glance at the earl. To her chagrin, he was looking straight at her, and with such an odd, intent look in his eyes that she blushed. More peculiar still, Ashburton looked even more appalled than she felt at having been caught staring, and turned hastily away.

How strange.

“I hope your business with Mr Evans went well yesterday,” she ventured, hoping that if she began a conversation, the peculiarly charged atmosphere that seemed to fill the room would dissipate.

“Yes!” he said, his voice suddenly too loud in the quiet room. Looking uncomfortable, the earl cleared his throat. “I mean to say, yes, it went very well, thank you. I understand you and Tilly had a successful day, too. Certainly her art lesson seems to have been productive,” he added with a smile.

Regina studied his smile for a moment. Did it seem a little strained? Was he ill? She noted his heightened colour. His complexion was naturally fair, though he still had a golden tinge where the summer sun had tanned him, but surely that slight flush was unusual. Perhaps he was running a fever and did not wish to alarm Tilly? Foolish man, for if that were so, he ought to be in bed.

That must be it, she decided, noting that he had pushed his breakfast to one side and barely touched it when he usually ate like a starving horse.

“Tilly produced a marvellous portrait of you, my lord,” Regina said with a nod. “Did she show you?”

“Indeed, yes. I was most impressed. Most impressed,” he repeated vaguely, and Regina glanced back at him to discover his gaze was focused upon her mouth. Instantly self-conscious, she picked up her napkin and wiped it carefully, afraid she had a scrap of egg or something stuck to her lip. However, the napkin came away clean, and so she dared another look at the earl, who was studying the congealing eggs and sausages on his plate with an absent frown.

Definitely unwell, she decided. It had been freezing yesterday, and damp too, and he had been out the entire day, not returning to the house until just before dinnertime. Not that she’d been looking out for him, of course, or worrying that he might not have dressed warmly enough for such a wintery day, for that would be sheer folly, and she was not a fool.

Still, he was obviously coming down with something and she must persuade him to take better care of himself, but not in front of Tilly. Children often believed their parents were indestructible, and she did not wish to alarm the girl before she could reassure her it was nothing more than a nasty head cold.

As it happened, Tilly was more than obliging and saved Regina the trouble of thinking of a way to send her off. Having finished her meal, Tilly asked politely, “May I get down, please, Papa, Mrs Harris? I would like to visit Marigold before I begin lessons. Mr Kerridge promised to bring me an apple for her breakfast.”

The earl nodded and then glanced at Regina, for usually she began their lessons directly after breakfast.

Regina smiled. “Of course you may, but mind you wrap up warm.”

“I will!” Tilly exclaimed, and ran from the room before anyone could change their mind.

“I think I’ll go with her and visit Marigold,” the earl said with sudden decision, but before he could push back his chair and stand, Regina reached out and covered his hand with her own.

He stilled utterly, his eyes widening and flying to hers, a startled, wild look there that made her more convinced than ever that he was sickening for something.

“I insist you go to bed at once,” she said firmly.

Ashburton opened his mouth and then closed it again, and she was certain now he had a fever, for his colour only deepened. “Bed?” he repeated, his voice husky.

“Yes, at once,” she said crossly. “I don’t know what you are thinking, coming down to breakfast with us, and you in such a state.”

Alarm was writ clearly across his face now and Regina let out a breath of impatience.

“Good heavens, my lord. I’m sure it’s nothing but a head cold, not the plague, there’s no need to look so appalled.”

He stared at her for a long moment before letting out an unsteady laugh. “A head cold,” he repeated. “Not the plague.”