First Comes Scandal (Rokesbys #4)(53)
“Influenza is highly contagious, and we don’t understand how it spreads. It is simply not safe, especially for you.”
“For me?” Georgie’s eyes widened, possibly from surprise, possibly from irritation. He could not tell for sure.
“It is a disease of the lungs,” he told her. “You may not have had a breathing episode for several years, but you are almost certainly more susceptible than most to this sort of illness.”
“Mr. Rokesby is right,” Marian said emphatically. “Your mother would flay us alive if we took you to a house with such disease.”
Georgie turned to Marian with a sharper expression than Nicholas was used to seeing on her face. “My mother,” she said, “is no longer responsible for my welfare.”
“No, but I am,” Nicholas said, eager to be done with the discussion. “And we’re not going to London.”
He would not put Georgie—or any of the others—at risk.
It was odd. It had not been until Jameson had breathlessly informed him of the outbreak in London that Nicholas had felt the full weight of his new obligations. It wasn’t just Georgie he was responsible for now. He was a man with a household.
“We need to help them,” Georgie said. Then as if something had shifted inside her, her voice filled with emotion. “We need to help them, tend to them, and … and you’re a doctor.”
“I’m not a doctor yet,” he reminded her.
“But surely you would know what to do.”
“I know enough to know there is nothing I can do.”
She gasped.
“No, no, I don’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. Good God, he had sounded fatalistic.
She made a questioning motion with her hands.
“Based on Jameson’s report,” he told her, “there is nothing I can do for them that is not already being done. A doctor has been called for, and the ill have all been given willow bark and bone broth.”
“Willow bark?”
“It seems to help with fevers.”
Her brow dipped into a vee. “That’s so interesting. I wonder what the reason …”
He waited for her to finish her thought, but she just shook her head. “Never mind.” She blinked, then looked up, her eyes suddenly bright and clear. “What now?”
“We press on,” he said. “And find a place to spend the night.”
“Will that be a problem?”
Nicholas let out a sigh. His father had sent a man ahead to reserve space at coaching inns along the route, but obviously no arrangements had been made for the first stop.
“We shall take our chances like everyone else on the road,” he said. “I’ve gone back and forth to Edinburgh several times, and I’ve never had difficulty securing a room before.”
Of course he’d never traveled with a wife, thirteen servants, and three cats.
Meow.
It was a delicate sound, quite unlike the howling they’d endured all afternoon. He looked at Georgie, his brows raised in question.
She shook her head. “That wasn’t Cat-Head.”
He sighed. “Of course it wasn’t.”
But she didn’t hear. She was already hurrying back to the carriage, tending to the one she called Blanche.
Which was almost as ridiculous a name as Cat-Head, given that Blanche was almost completely black.
“Did anyone find the other baskets?” Nicholas asked as he followed Georgie to the carriage.
“I don’t think anyone looked,” Marian said, scurrying along after him. “Do you want us to?”
“No, best to be on our way. We’ll find them for the journey tomorrow.”
Marian nodded, but when he stepped aside to allow her to enter the carriage before him, she said, “If you don’t mind, sir, I thought I might ride in the second carriage.”
Georgie, who had already alighted, poked her head out. “Are you sure? It’s smaller than this one, and you’ll be three across on the seat.”
“We will be just fine,” Nicholas said, putting an end to the discussion. Frankly, he’d been surprised when Marian had entered the lead carriage at their departure. Surely as newlyweds, they could expect to have the space to themselves.
Meow.
He sighed. Along with the cats.
At least the he-devil was quiet. Although the true test would come when the wheels began to— GRAOWWW!
“I’m sorry,” Georgie said.
Nicholas attempted a smile. “Nothing to be done.”
She smiled in return, an expression that was one-part apologetic, one-part grateful, and one-part ready to tear her hair out.
GRAOWWW!
He fixed the cat with an icy stare. “You have no interest in romance, do you?” he muttered.
“What did you say?” Georgie asked, startled.
GRAOWWW!
He shook his head. Funny how it hadn’t been until they were packing up the carriages and it became clear that Georgie was bringing her pets that he remembered that he didn’t much actually like cats. His sister had had cats. They had been the most spoiled creatures on the planet, and they left fur everywhere.
GRAOWWW!
And some of them, apparently, liked to complain.
“Sorry,” Georgie muttered. She picked up a shawl, and then—