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“Hmm.” His gaze ran over her face and down to her mid-section.
“Oh. Dear.” She placed her hand over her lips feeling her breakfast about to make a reappearance. Her hearty constitution had deserted her of late.
“Over here.” Averell pulled her firmly to a large pot filled with a spray of half-dead peonies and ferns.
To her utter shame, Georgina cast up all her breakfast and possibly some of last night’s dinner. Clarissa insisted a rich sauce accompany every meal. Elaborate desserts rather than fruit or cheese. Georgina’s stomach didn’t care for the change in the menu.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured as another wave of sickness had her grabbing the edge of the pot. This would finish off the poor peonies immediately, though the fern might yet survive.
The duke patted her back gently, murmuring consoling words in a low tone, sounding very much like Leo. Holding out a monogrammed handkerchief, he dabbed gently at her mouth while she stood horrified at having become ill. Tears pricked her eyes. Georgina had rarely, if ever, cried, until recently. But between Leo, feeling ill most of the time, and Harold’s growing hatred, Georgina found herself shamefully weeping at the slightest provocation.
“Please forgive me, Your Grace,” she whispered as he directed her back to the stone bench.
“Not at all, my lady.” He regarded her with concern. “Perhaps you should go inside. We can continue our conversation at another time.”
“No, I’m better. Please, return to what you were saying before my unfortunate accident. You are trying to be a better man. Repaying debts and the like. Very honorable.” She clasped her hands. “I forgive you my husband’s debt, Your Grace.” Georgina gave him a weak smile.
The sea of blue took her in from head to toe with a frown. “Do you often become ill at breakfast, Lady Masterson? Or dinner?”
“Are you suggesting Harold is having me poisoned?” It was a valid question. She had been ill. And Masterson had, unbelievably, left her a large portion of what remained of his fortune, most she hadn’t known he had, as well as Beechwood Court. Harold, of course, received everything else which oddly enough still included a hunting lodge in Scotland and four horses still residing in the stables. The last time she’d visited Elysium, it had been with Masterson, and he’d insisted she accompany him. Had Masterson made some sort of arrangement with Leo, perhaps pleaded with him to forgive his debts? When she’d questioned Mr. Lind, her solicitor, he’d assured her everything was in perfect order.
Georgina didn’t dare think of the markers in Leo’s office.
Harold hadn’t been pleased, particularly about Beechwood Court, which he coveted merely because it belonged to Georgina. But she didn’t think him murderous.
Not yet.
“Masterson didn’t like his nephew. If you feel you are being threatened—”
Only every day.
“—then I will apprise Harold you are under my protection.”
“That isn’t necessary, Your Grace. Harold and I don’t get on. We never have. But I don’t believe he means to do me harm.” Things would become that much more difficult for Georgina if Harold suspected she’d caught the attention of Averell. And if the gossips found out Averell had offered her protection? “I do not wish to cause your duchess any distress, especially when you seek only to be kind.”
A soft laugh came from him. “Her Grace knows better. But I take your point.” One elegant hand fluttered in the direction of her mid-section. “However, I believeyourequire my assistance at the very least.”
Georgina swallowed, feeling the blood drain from her face. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying, Your Grace.” Heart thudding dully, she closed her eyes, willing the sudden dizziness making her head swim to abate.
“Forgive my bluntness, Lady Masterson. But you are in a delicate condition, are you not? I am a father five times over. I am familiar with the signs.”
Oh. No.
Averell sat back and regarded her. “Given that the new Lord Masterson is inside,” he jerked his head, “and not with us in the garden,” he nodded toward her mid-section, “I will assume the child is not your husband’s.”
Georgina swayed on the bench and Averell caught her before she toppled over. She hadn’t suspected she was with child despite the obvious signs.
No, it had been easier for me to assume Harold might be poisoning me.
A short bark of laughter came from her lips, and she immediately clasped her hand over her mouth.
“Are you going to be ill again?” Averell watched her with concern, probably thinking her as mad as Harold.
“No, Your Grace.” Last night she’d left the table as her stomach had pitched unmercifully after she’d eaten turbot in a frothy wine sauce. Harold had stopped her with a hand on her elbow, pulling Georgina’s face down to his.
“Let us hope it is only the sauce, for if it’s anything else, I will cut the cuckoo right out of its nest.”
Clarissa had pretended not to hear.
