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“Zounds,” he told the empty room. “Damned sick of being here alone.”
What he needed was a shot of exercise and fresh air—that was the ticket, he told himself. Up he got to his feet, and though he still felt just a bit off, he shrugged on the new cloak that Ashton had supplied him, wincing as he finally got it over his shoulders. He made the way out of his room and down the stairs to the main galley, where he stood for a moment to catch his breath. Something was damnably wrong, he thought. Air … probably only need fresh air, he told himself as he looked around and wondered where Flip had gone off to. He smiled to himself. She never could sit still. No doubt she was taking a ride on Whiley.
Aye, then, a walk would do him good.
As he stepped outside and took in a long drink of fresh air, he felt suddenly worse. Dizziness hit him like a punch to the head, and all at once he knew he needed to hold onto something to continue to stand. He reached out to hold the side of the building and said under his breath, “What the deuce. Well, that’s what I get for staying indoors too long.”
Determined, he took a few hard strides forward and realized he felt a bit hotter than he should. The day was cool, very cool.
What was wrong with him?
A few more steps, and he saw trees and courtyard table and chairs all begin to spin before his foggy eyes.
* * *
Rebecca handed her gray gelding to the stableboy and made her way into the inn and up the stairs. She was looking forward to finding her friend, Felicia, again and having a good long chat, but besides that she also wanted to see how Mr. Scott went on. Her black eye was already yellowing, but she had managed to put a splattering of powder on it, though her father had tsk-tsked at her and said it wasn’t necessary. At least her hair was looking more the thing, and she found she cared very much how she would appear … to Scott Hanover.
It never occurred to her that she would not find Felicia within as she made her way down the hall. A maid stepped out of Felicia’s room, put a hand to her heart, and said, “Lor … Bless ye, Miss Wilson, but ye look a sight better than ye did after yer ordeal. It’s that glad I am to see ye looking so well and so pretty in yer blue silks.”
Becky thanked her sweetly, and the older woman bobbed her head and hurried off with a basket of linens, saying over her shoulder as she moved away, “Miss Felicia went off for a ride, she did, high-spirited that one, lovely, lovely young woman always has a moment to chat and smile.” She eyed her then and added, “But Mr. Scott is about somewhere. Saw him come down the stairs just a few moments ago.”
Becky hurriedly went back downstairs, holding up her riding skirt as she went, stopped at the bottom, and gave herself one final adjustment, making certain her tawny hair was in place and her blue crown hat with the pretty lace ribbon sat jauntily on those curls. She took in a long breath of air and with a smile on her face stepped into the courtyard.
Becky found Scott tottering and looking as though he were about to collapse right before her eyes. She ran to him, shouting out his name, “Scott!”
He smiled like a fool as she caught him and struggled to hold him up, for although he was not heavy, he certainly was a handful for even her tall frame. He eyed her adoringly and said, “Ah, an angel in blue … Miss Wilson.”
His voice was scarcely audible, his color white, and his body, she thought, warm … too warm, and she suspected he was feverish.
She called for the innkeeper, who luckily was nearby and came hobbling towards them just in time to help her with Scott’s weight. He shifted the woozy young man against his ample side.
“Glad you are here,” Scott said.
“Are ye, lad?” the innkeeper teased.
“Not you … well, yes, and you … but … Miss Wilson … glad Miss Beautiful in Blue is here,” Scott said, a silly look on his face.
Becky knew now that he most certainly was feverish and probably did not even know what he was saying. She thought, however, it would be best to humor him and answered, “Are you, sir? I am glad of it too. But now we must get you inside and see what the trouble may be.”
“Trouble? No trouble now that you are here.” He beamed at her. “Inside? Very well … been thinking about you,” he said confidingly.
“Have you been?” She blushed and looked up to find Glen Ashton and Felicia hurrying towards them.
* * *
“Scott! Oh no, what has happened?” Felicia cried fretfully as she went to him but then immediately stepped out of Ashton’s way.
“Dash it!” Ashton swore under his breath as he took hold of Scott’s weight. “What has the boy gone and done to himself?” All at once, he had taken control, and Felicia watched him with absolute admiration as he asked for the doctor to be sent for immediately, took hold of Scott as though he were naught but a featherweight, and lifted him like a babe in arms. He told the innkeeper as he moved towards the stairs, “That’s a good man, if you will see that a bucket of lukewarm water is brought up … and a bottle of gin.”
Felicia knew this method of bringing down a fever. T
he wonder was that Ashton knew it as well. He was such a man, she sighed, between worried thoughts for Scott.
Ashton managed to get Scott situated in his bed, and Felicia saw that her friend was perspiring severely. She wrung her hands and said, “Where is the water …?” She went and used the wash basin water, dipping her handkerchief in it and rushing back to wipe down Scott’s face.
Becky did the same, and they took turns at this.
“He is so hot,” Becky whispered.
