Page 54 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Jack didn’t speak. Neither did Juniper. Thank goodness. She was already having a difficult time keeping her thoughts ordered.

“Afterward, everything pressed in upon,” Emily continued softly, her eyes half-closed as she chased the ribbons of memory through the fog in her mind. “The room was so warm. And the crowd louder. Closer.” She winced. “Mr. Eastwood asked if I wished for lemonade. Or perhaps I asked him. I am not certain.”

She lifted a hand weakly, as if brushing aside smoke. “Then we went to the refreshment table. Lord Hartwell was already there. I think.” Her eyes squeezed shut.

Juniper’s hand found hers. She smiled at her sister-in-law, hoping it reassured her. Then she swallowed again. Her stomach turned. Too much swallowing. Did she need something to drink?

What had she had to drink at the ball? “Lemonade. I remember that. After… everything is strange. Like it has been smudged or lost.”

For the first time since he arrived at her side, Jack took his gaze off her, turning it to Juniper. His jaw went tight. She knew that look. She had seen it before. In London. When that horrid man had started nasty rumors about her. At a ball.

“I hate balls,” Emily whispered to no one.

Jack rose and walked away, and Emily tried to follow him with her gaze, but then Juniper was there. Still holding Emily’s hand and wearing a reassuring smile, her gaze assessing as it flicked across Emily’s features.

“Everything will be all right, darling. Lord Hartwell sent us a message that said you were ill. He brought you to his home, since it was nearer than ours, and sent for a doctor, too. We will solve this mystery together, and I am certain you will be put to rights in no time.”

There were voices speaking again in the other room. But they were no longer muffled. The door stood open still.

“We believe it was laudanum. Intended for me,” Lord Hartwell’s deep voice said. “I hold the blame for handing the draught to Lady Emily without knowing what was in it. A servant passed it to me.”

“We must return at once to the Assembly Rooms and find that servant.” Jack sounded as though he were issuing a command. Something he should not do, since he was the son of an earl and Lord Hartwell was a baron. Or did Jack outrank Lord Hartwell? For a moment, she could not remember. It was one of the first things she had learned. Or relearned when she became the daughter to an earl rather than the daughter of a gentleman so poor they learned order of precedence without thinking they would have need of it.

Why were her thoughts all tumbling over one another?

“He will not have lingered,” Lord Hartwell said. “After putting the cup in my hand, whoever it was likely vanished to report the deed done.”

“Would you recognize him again? If you saw him?” The frustration in Jack’s tone made Emily and Juniper wince at the same moment.

“Perhaps. But…I hardly paid attention. He was only another servant.” The baron sounded as resigned as he was frustrated. All this fuss because someone wanted to do him harm?

Emily winced up at Juniper. “Was I poisoned?”

“It certainly seems that way.” Juniper stroked her hair back as gently as Jack had a moment before. “My poor Emily. I regret that I was not beside you in that moment to offer comfort and advice.” She released a soft sigh, and her shoulders drooped as though a heavy burden rested upon them.

The headache thudded with greater rudeness against Emily’s temples, and she squeezed her eyes closed again.

“The doc-doctor is here.” Lyness. She lifted her head to see if he was within sight, but he spoke from the doorway, as though held there by some invisible boundary. When his gaze found hers, she wanted to offer some reassurance to him. At least a smile to let him know she was all right, and that she certainly did not blame him or his brother for her predicament. But he looked away too quickly for her to even attempt it, and then disappeared into the shadows.

The baron took over from there. “Doctor Garrett, here is your patient, Lady Emily.”

The physician stepped forward, bowing briefly to the room at large before addressing Emily herself. He was a tidy man of middle years, his coat brushed and his cravat immaculate, and he immediately gave her the impression of someone who valued order above all else.

“Lady Emily,” he said briskly, “may I ask you a few questions?”

Emily blinked at him. “Yes, of course,” she murmured, though her voice scraped unpleasantly in her throat. She glanced up as Jack circled behind the couch, taking up a position that looked rather as though he meant to stand guard over her.

The doctor did not touch her. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and studied her with a practiced, assessing eye. “Can you focus on my face? Right here.” He angled his head slightly. “Very good. And do you find the light troubles you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “My head aches.”

“As expected when one swoons.” The doctor nodded once, clearly unsurprised. “Do you feel any chill, my lady? Any trembling in the limbs?”

Ordering her thoughts was not precisely easy with so many people staring at her and waiting for an answer. Emily hesitated. “I…do not think so. Only a great heaviness. And this dryness in my mouth.” Her own mind tried to put the pieces together. Though not a doctor, she had prided herself on herbal remedies for various illnesses over the years. Small things that every household had to manage. And her symptoms tumbled over one another in her head without making much sense.

Jack made a tight sound from behind her, but the doctor continued unruffled. “Tell me, have you been ill recently? Any fevers? Faintness before this evening?”

“No,” she said. “I was somewhat anxious during the ball. Only a small discomfort, I thought.”