The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

“Sophie, my dear, I think you’re seasick.”

The humor tingeing his voice did not endear him to her at that moment. Seasick? How humiliating.

“Miles, we’ll run for home. Sophie, stare at the horizon and take deep breaths. Here, Betsy, you sit with Penny.” He massaged Sophie’s hands for a moment and then went to the tiller. “Prepare to come around.”

They had been out barely half an hour. Sophie felt bad cutting everyone’s enjoyment short, but she wasn’t sorry when the cove came into view. Still, drawing up beside the dock took much longer than she would have liked, involving furling sails and applying oars.

“Miles, see that she’s buttoned up.”

Sophie jerked her head up, then relaxed, realizing Charles was talking about the Shearwater.

“Penny, can you look after the girls and Miss Mamie?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll be fine. You take care of Sophie.”

Thea skipped down the deck, her hair and dress damp with sea spray, her eyes alight. “That was the best fun. Too bad you got sick, Sophie. When can we go again?”

Sophie let the conversation go unheeded. It took all her concentration not to embarrass herself by bringing up her lunch. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so unwell. How could it be that only a few moments on the water had hit her so hard?

“Come, my dear. Let’s get you back on land.” Charles helped her rise and put his arm around her waist. “You’ll feel better soon.”

Miles leapt to the dock to assist, and Sophie soon stood on the weathered planks. Her head still swam, and her legs felt like jelly.

The girls chattered and clattered toward the staircase, but Charles remained by Sophie’s side. “Don’t rush. Take your time.” He rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. “And don’t feel badly. Did you know that Admiral Lord Nelson, England’s greatest naval commander, suffered from seasickness?”

Sophie sent him a skeptical look as she concentrated on breathing deeply and trying to stop the rocking feeling in her head.

“No, it’s true. For the first three or four days of a cruise, he was wretched. Kept to his cabin and let his first officer run the ship.” They made slow progress down the pier and across the sand. “When we get back to the house, you can have a lie down with a nice cold cloth on your forehead. You’ll feel better soon.”

“I cannot believe I get seasick.” She blew out a breath as they mounted the stairs. “I had no idea. We are a mismatched pair if ever there was one, aren’t we?”

Once they reached the house, Mrs. Chapman met them at the door. “Lady Sophia? Are you poorly?”

She tried to smile to reassure the housekeeper.

Charles tightened his hold around her waist, and she couldn’t say she minded. It felt better to have someone to lean on. “Mrs. Chapman, will you brew some ginger tea and bring it to Lady Sophia’s room?”

“Of course. I prepared everything as you asked. I’ll be along directly.”

Sophia didn’t have long to puzzle over what they were talking about. Charles turned left at the top of the stairs, guiding her toward his own rooms. Her steps slowed, and she sent him a bewildered look.

“Don’t worry. I’ve nothing untoward in mind. But as my wife”—he paused, as if pondering how odd that sounded—“you will be expected to sleep in the mistress of the manor’s room. Mrs. Chapman reminded me this morning that the room was unaired and had yet to be cleaned, but she assured me she would see to it.”

Of course. Mrs. Chapman would not know that theirs was anything other than a real marriage, and appearances must be maintained.

When he opened the door, she sucked in a breath. “Oh, it’s lovely.” She wished she didn’t feel so weak. Perhaps in a while she would be able to truly appreciate the beauty of this room.

“Come lie down. I’ll open the windows so you can get a fresh breeze.” He tugged on her bonnet ribbon and lifted the hat from her head.

The bed had a set of stairs, and he held her hand until she lay on the pale-blue coverlet. Overhead, the canopy of ruched blue cloth surrounded a golden medallion. Charles disappeared, and Sophie closed her eyes. Her stomach began to settle and the weakness to bleed out of her limbs.

He returned with a pitcher of water and a cloth over his arm. Sitting on the side of the bed, he dipped the cloth, wrung it out, and placed it on her forehead. “I’m an old hand dealing with seasickness.”

“Have you ever suffered it yourself?” He had taken her hand, and she liked the way hers nestled in his. She hadn’t felt so protected and cherished since Rich went away to war.

Silly thoughts, since theirs was more of a business arrangement than anything. Well, not business exactly, since they were friends, but it was far from a grand romance. Still, it felt nice to have someone take care of her for a change.

“I never have. Not even in the roughest seas. I remember once in the Caribbean we hit a hurricane. Half the crew had their heads in buckets before it blew itself out.”

Her queasiness returned with the mental image.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, my dear. That was thoughtless of me. You’ll feel better soon.”

Mrs. Chapman arrived with the tea tray, and Sophie scooted up, holding the cloth against her head, then switching it to the nape of her neck. Charles held the cup, but she took it from his hands. “I can do it, thank you.” She sipped the hot, fragrant liquid, letting the ginger tea hit her stomach and waiting to see what the reaction would be.

It stayed down, warming her from within, and she dared another dose.

“There you are—you’ll be right in no time.”

“Shall I serve dinner in the formal dining room tonight?” Mrs. Chapman asked.

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t believe I want dinner. You and the girls can eat in the kitchen again, and we’ll try the dining room tomorrow.”

Late that night, as