Lyon's Gate (Sherbrooke Brides 9)

She laughed, drank some delicious tea, eyed the single scone he handed her. “You lied to her. Well done.”

“I told Cook I needed sustenance to see to your care. She commiserated; not verbally, of course. She didn’t swoon.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen your face since you carted me upstairs.”

“Someone has to work around here,” he said, and handed her the scone. “Don’t stuff it in your mouth. I don’t want you getting sick to your stomach.”

“Petrie came here three times, and each time he pointed out the chamber pot to me. Everyone else was nice enough not to mention it.”

“Angela told me you didn’t look too bad. The scratches on your cheek, I don’t think they’re deep enough to scar.”

“My father always told me I was like him. I could get knocked about, even stomped on, and never show a mark. I like Bad Boy. Do you think James would sell him to me?”

“Not in this lifetime. But he is talking about breeding him. I’ll come to an agreement with him. How do you feel?”

“You know that Normandy church in Easterly? I feel like the bells are clanging inside my head.”

“Good. They’re lovely, those bells. Would you like some more laudanum?”

She shook her head. “Are the horses all right?”

“Dodger seems quite content to whinny over his stall door at both Delilah and Penelope. As for Charlemagne, he got extra oats and a good brushing. Henry told him even though he had a rotten bloodline, he was a steadfast lad, one could count on him.”

“I want to race him next week at Hallum Heath.”

“I’m riding Dodger in that race.”

“You’re too big. You’ll lose.”

“I know, it simply sounds nice to say it. We’ve a jockey arriving early next week, in time for that race. He’s ridden for the Rothermere racing stables for seven years now, ever since he was fifteen. He’s marrying a local girl, moving here, and we are the ones to benefit from Rothermere’s loss. His name is Lorry Dale. Phillip Hawksbury, he’s the earl of Rothermere, said Lorry stuck to a horse’s back like a tick. He only weights eight and a half stone.”

“Hmm.”

“We can both attend, make certain nothing bad is taking place, shout ourselves hoarse, and have some fun. Dodger will win with Lorry on his back.”

“I weigh eight stone.”

“This isn’t Baltimore, and you aren’t Jessie Wyndham. You will not race here, Hallie. Living with me is difficult enough for people to accept, and they only do it because of my family. Your riding in a horse race wouldn’t be tolerated. You’d have to shoot yourself dead to be forgiven that transgression. The winner’s purse is one hundred pounds. Money we can well use.”

“But—”

He lightly placed his fingertips over her mouth. She froze. Jason did as well. Neither moved. Suddenly, Jason took three steps back from her bed, stuck his hands behind his back. He looked toward the door. “I’m going out.”

Hallie felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. She watched him walk backward, looking at her like he wanted to—what? She didn’t know. He was flushed, his eyes looked funny. He wanted to leave? He’d touched her mouth and he couldn’t wait to get away from her? “What do you mean you’re going out? You said nothing before. It’s nearly nine o’clock at night. Jason, wait, where are you going?”

“I’m going out now.” And he was gone in the next thirty seconds. It wasn’t the first time he’d absented himself abruptly in the evenings, for no particular reason that she knew of. Four times now, five? And when did he come home? That was a good question.

Hallie heard him walk by her bedchamber near dawn. She jumped out of bed, nearly fell over at the drumming pain in her head, but managed to stumble out into the corridor. She saw him with his hand out to grasp the door handle on his bedchamber door.

“You just got home. You’re whistling? It’s almost daylight!”

He jerked around like he’d been shot. He saw it was her, saw she was weaving in her open doorway, and started walking back to her. “Yes, I’m home. Let’s get you back to bed, Hallie. What were you doing awake?”

“I was nearly awake when you walked by. Oh dear, where’s the chamber pot?”

CHAPTER 29

He held her while she heaved and shuddered and felt her belly clench in on itself since there was nothing to come up.