Page 18 of Her Passionate Duke

“You’d think that, at a charity event, more people would be receptive to being asked to be well, charitable…” But from what she could tell, the guests had only come at the insistence of the Duchess of Grantsham. Even the Duke’s speech — more restrained and less apocalyptic than his previous one that few weeks before — only met with a scattering of tepid applause. “I think it would take a major disruption to the lives of most people of the ton to get them thinking about something other than themselves and their families.”

“Perhaps you ought to have said that,” said Lady Caroline.

After a dessert of sugared plum cakes, the dishes were cleared away and the men moved into the library-where they stood talking and smoking, while the women gathered around the Duchess of Grantsham in the parlour. The Duchess smiled, although it looked a little forced, and set about convincing the women to donate. Linnet stood near her, forcing herself not to scratch, a handkerchief clutched in her fingers, concentrating on preventing herself from sneezing.

Her head ached, and her face felt alarmingly flushed.

“And what did you think of Mrs. Trellick?” the Duchess asked Linnet, as a cluster of older ladies moved away, and there was a quiet moment. “It’s a pity that she couldn’t be here tonight, but of course the children took precedence. That’s just the sort of woman she is — she’d rather be working, even on a night when her own orphanage is being honoured.”

“She was lovely,” said Linnet. “A little intimidating at first, but she soon — she soon put me at my ease.”

Linnet had paused because she could feel a sneeze coming, and for a moment the night’s happiness hung precariously in the balance as she seemed dangerously close to sneezing on the Duchess of Grantsham.

She turned away hurriedly — but as happens so often, the moment she did, the danger passed.

“Are you feeling alright?” asked the Duchess of Grantsham with a look of concern. “I was worried about you when you got up to speak — you looked feverish.”

“It’s nothing life-threatening,” said Linnet. “Someone brought a — a cat to the house last week and I’ve been feeling miserable ever since. I seem to have a dreadful reaction to the slightest bit of cat fur. Which is a pity, because most cats seem lovely creatures – from what I can see, from a distance…”

“Well, there are medicines which can help with that. Let me see if I can find my son — I obviously owe you considerable thanks for coming out tonight. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had stayed at home, given how miserable you look.”

Linnet stammered an excuse — the last thing she wanted was for the Duke to see her, up close, in this state — but to her horror, at that moment he appeared at his mother’s elbow. It seemed that the gentlemen had re-joined the ladies in the parlour.

“I believe that I overheard you say that you needed me?”

The Duchess of Grantsham motioned to Linnet, who was again trying to hide her face, but for different reasons. Embarrassment filled her, and she wanted to disappear. Contradictory though that was, when earlier she had been mentally lamenting not having had a chance to speak to him, she found herself really not wishing for him to see her when she looked pale, and feverish, and was likely to sneeze on him at any moment.

“A cat was allowed into Lady Linnet’s home and it seems that she has a dreadful reaction to cat fur, just like your cousin. Although I suspect, from looking at her, that Lady Linnet reacts even more strongly than Grace. She is feeling most unwell, and we owe her gratitude for still coming to speak tonight. Would you look after her while I deal with the other guests?”

“Of course.”

The Duke gave a low bow and offered his arm to Linnet. She placed her hand on it, feeling the heat of his skin through the cloth of his coat, and went with him with a feeling of increasing misery as he led her down the hall and into a small parlour.

“We… we shouldn’t really be alone…”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I doubt that anyone will think that I am ravishing you, when you are so obviously not well. Indeed, I doubt that they will notice at all, so busy are they all, being outraged. Wait here - I think I know just the cure for what ails you.”

He slipped from the room, and Linnet sat there, glad of the quiet, but wondering what on earth he thought might cure her horrible itching and sniffling. Nothing they had ever tried, in her whole life, had worked, except time with absolutely no contact with a cat, or its fur. Was it possible that there might actually be a cure? It was almost too much to hope for, but she found herself hoping, nonetheless.

A short while later, the Duke came back into the room, carrying two cups. He dropped to sit on the couch beside Linnet, and set the cups down on a small table before her.

“I have something for you to drink. It should help.”

“Why do you think it will? Nothing ever has.”

“Grace, my cousin, can’t be around cats without breaking out in rashes – I assume that your reaction is similar. Her old nanny, whose brother was an apothecary, created a posset for her, which contains valerian and some other things. It cleared up her rashes wonderfully. The recipe for that was passed on to our family, and cook keeps some made up in the cold cellar, in case it is needed.”

“Does it really work?”

Linnet knew that she sounded dubious, but wistful.

“It does! It tastes foul and, at first, you’ll wish you had never drunk it. That’s why I brought you some ordinary tea as well, to wash the taste away after you drink the posset. It is horrid, but you’ll feel better about it once you start to feel its effects.”

Linnet looked at him, wishing that her heart would stop pounding so hard, due to his proximity, and that she could shut off her feelings at will.

It was so very confusing to feel ill, to wish that he had never seen her looking so utterly unwell, and yet to wish that he might never leave her side, that the dreams she’d had, of him kissing her, could be made real.