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Frederick had tried many treatments since childhood—mustard poultices to the head were his least favorite—to no avail. Had her family happened upon a cure? “Used to? She found relief?”
Her shoulders sank under her gray shawl, and she pulled the wrap tighter around herself. “No. She passed away. Eight years ago next month.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Molly.”
She nodded briskly. “Come, let us break bread before the page boys rouse and descend upon it.”
Following her into the kitchen, he wondered about her life before joining the household. It was one subject he’d hoped to discuss when they went on one of the “outings” Lady Clara had suggested.
He complimented Cook on her freshly baked, crusty bread, which he tried not to devour too brutishly, considering his intense hunger. Still, Molly was only halfway through her much smaller plate when she rose, insisting on serving him his second.
“Thank you.” He smiled like a fool when she set it down in front of him.
“It’s a relief to see you well again. It strikes suddenly, doesn’t it? Within a minute, your eyes changed, and you…”
Behaved like an imbecile.He cleared his throat. “Yes.” He glanced at the fragrant crock, the interior of which nearly glowed orange. “Lady Clara has an orangery? In the country?”
“No, it’s here. In the back, attached to the house, next to the mews. I’m caring for it in her stead.”
Her eyes dropped, and an air of sadness shrouded her. Frederick was seeking something to say when she looked up, her face more animated, then dropped again. “Speaking of conservatories. Lady Clara had suggested that we visit the new Waterlily House at Kew Gardens.”
A clump of bread stuck in his throat, and he swallowed painfully, feeling it travel down his gullet. “I…”
“Yes?”
He shook his head. “Lady Clara meant well, but her suggestions for these outings…they’re unnecessary. We can fulfill our duties to her instruments and library without you having to accompany me on such excursions.”
“Well, yes. It’s evident what she was doing, isn’t it?”
She regarded him with almost girlish delight, and he marveled she could still show an interest in him today. Here he sat in rumpled clothes and mussed hair—and after she’d seen what became of him yesterday.
“You could…you could still wish to spend time with me after…?”
She shook her head in confusion.
“My infirmity,” he explained. “Why, it ejected you from your own chamber! Submitted you to such…”
“Suchwhat? I assure you, Frederick, I’m only sorry that you suffered so. Do they occur often? I’ve never known you to miss an appointment.”
She doesn’t understand.“Thankfully, they’re not frequent. But Molly”—he quieted his voice and leaned over the wooden table between them—“you saw what becomes of me.”
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
She still doesn’t understand! “They happen for any reason. No reason sometimes. But certainly more often when I’m overwrought—as I was yesterday.”
“You were overwrought?”
He sighed. “About coming to see you. Knowing that we might speak of these outings. It’s too much excitement for my organism to bear, Molly.”
Staring at the floor, she blinked rapidly.
Finally, she’s realizing just how much of a—
“I make you ill?”
He frowned at her small voice, tinged with hope and…happiness?
She smiled. “My stomach pained me all day before your arrival. I was…overwrought about Lady Clara leaving, too. But when I think of you, Frederick, sometimes it nearly makes me ill.”
