You Never Forget Your First Earl

by Ella Quinn

  The quartermaster held her chair out. “I’ll be just a moment.” Turning to hurry to the door, she stopped. “Harrington, I believe you should lie down before you become ill.”

  “Nonsense. I shall be fine. I am never sick.” The next second he clapped his hand over his mouth, and rushed past her into the passageway.

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “If anyone else is feeling not quite the thing, I beg you will find your bunks. You will feel much better for it. Captain”—Elizabeth inclined her head—“I and any of my household who are able will stand by to assist you.”

  For the next several hours, Elizabeth, Vickers, Nettle, Mrs. Robins, and Lord John tended to ones who had fallen, including Lord John’s batman.

  While Elizabeth helped in dispensing medicines to the soldiers who had become ill, she’d left Geoffrey with Nettle who vowed he would see his master drink all of the ginger soup she had ordered for Geoffrey.

  Despite the valet’s reassurances, she was uneasy that she had not nursed him herself and decided she would see to him as soon as she ate something. Her stomach had been complaining for the past hour, and if she was to keep going, she required nourishment.

  Elizabeth had just finished drinking a much-needed cup of tea and eating a slice of beef between two pieces of bread when Nettle rushed into the dining cabin. “My lady. Please come quickly. I’m afraid for his lordship. He can’t keep anything down.”

  “I’ll come now.” The thought that he deserved part of his illness for being so smug vanished when she entered their cabin. His face was as white as chalk, and he was retching into a chamber pot, but his stomach was clearly empty. “What have you tried to feed him?”

  “Some broth, my lady. He didn’t like the ginger much.”

  Wasn’t that just like men, not following a woman’s orders? “Bring me warm ginger soup and some ginger biscuits.”

  “But, my lady, he won’t—”

  “Do as I say and do not argue with me.” Really, she had had a surfeit of recalcitrant men this evening, and she did not intend to listen to another one.

  “Yes, my lady.” Nettle opened the door.

  “I also want some warm water and cloths. He doesn’t have a fever, but it might make him feel better.” She searched for the lavender her maid always kept at hand.

  Geoffrey groaned, and Elizabeth held his hand while she stroked his forehead and his damp hair back from his face. He was cold and wet to the touch and her fear for him began to rise until she reminded herself that she had never actually heard of anyone dying of mal de mer. Although she’d met several men tonight who wished they would die while going through it.

  She could not stop herself from kissing Geoffrey’s forehead and brushing her lips across his.

  “Elizabeth?” His voice was a dry croak. He really was suffering badly.

  “I’m here now,” she said softly. “You’ll feel better soon.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” He slipped into unconsciousness, and she could only hope it was a healing sleep.

  It seemed like ages before Nettle opened the door carrying two small metal buckets, a cup, and a plate of biscuits.

  After setting one bucket on the floor, Nettle said, “The cook said the soup is better given to his lordship in a cup than in a bowl.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Set the food on this chest and you may go.”

  He opened his mouth as if to argue, but must have seen the look in her eyes. “Yes, my lady. I’ll be just outside the door.”

  “You will help Vickers and otherwise make yourself useful.”

  Not waiting for a response, she sprinkled crumbled pieces of lavender in the can holding the water and swished it around. Picking up a large piece of linen, she dipped it into the water, wrung it out, and placed it on Geoffrey’s head. Mrs. Robins had told her that trying to keep the patient warm helped.

  After a few minutes, he mumbled, “That feels good.”

  God, how she loved him. “This will make you feel even better.” She slipped her arm under him, raising him just enough to put the cup to his lips. “Drink a little of this.”

  He made a face and tried to shake his head, but he was as weak as a kitten, and could do no more than attempt to protest.

  Still, it took the better part of an hour before she was able to get a whole cup of soup in him. If he could hold that down, she would give him a biscuit. For now, he was sleeping peacefully, and his color was beginning to get better.

  Elizabeth rubbed her eyes as exhaustion washed over her. She glanced at Geoffrey. He lay all the way to the outside of the bed. As ill as he was, he would not even notice she was next to him.

  Climbing onto the side of the bed next to the wall, she stretched out. Someone would fetch her if she was needed.

  * * *

  Geoff opened his eyes. The ship was still rocking, but his stomach wasn’t rebelling. He’d never been so sick in his life. For that matter, it had been the longest night of his life. At one point he had just wanted to die.

  Not wishing to move too much, he turned his head to glance out the porthole window. Next to him, a soft, warm bundle moved.

  Elizabeth.

  It was the first time in days she had consented to be in the same bed with him. Although, consented might not be the right word. As crowded as this ship was, she hadn’t had much choice in the matter.

  As if sensing he was awake, she opened her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” In fact, he wasn’t feeling at all sick. “I think I can get up.”

  Scrambling out of the bed, she rushed around to his side. “No, you will not.” She straightened her shoulders and placed her fists on her hips. Her hair tumbled down her back. She pushed back a curl that fell over her forehead. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through her mass of curls and kiss her until she agreed to mate with him again. “We won’t be in to port for another hour or so,” she said. “You will not rise until you can do so without being ill again.” She looked at the door. “Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”

  A few minutes later she returned with a bowl and a spoon. “You may feed yourself this time, and if it goes well, you may have some beef broth and ginger biscuits.”

  He took a whiff and frowned. “I don’t like it.”

  “You may not like it when you are awake, but you drank it readily enough when you were too unwell to care.” Her eyes held a martial light as she approached with the cup.

  A vague memory flitted across his mind of her soft hand stroking his head. “Did you nurse me all night?”

  “Yes. Now drink this.” She practically shoved the cup into his hands.

  He took a sip. The stuff wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it would be. “Where was Nettle?”

  “Helping the others as was Vickers and everyone else who wasn’t ill. The only one of the soldiers who remained unaffected was the colonel.” Geoffrey finished the cup and she handed him a biscuit. “Chew it slowly.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He did as she said, and then waited for his stomach to rebel. When it appeared he would be able to keep the soup down, he asked, “May I have the beef broth now?”

  “I’ll fetch you some.” She picked up the bowl. “Do not rise.”

  “I’ll stay right here.” And fantasize about her naked next to him. If only he knew what to do to make things better between them.

  As much as he wanted to try to get her to open her budget, now was not the time. He might have been ill, but she had to be exhausted if she took care of him all night. Not only that, but she was being bossy, and was unlikely to listen to him at present. He’d never seen that part of her before.

  Several moments later, he was sitting up in bed, eating a broth so thick it was almost like stew. Elizabeth could have left nursing him to Nettle, but she had not. It was more than he expected after the past sennight. Did this mean she was no longer angry with him? “How did you know to bring the medicines?”

  “Many people suf
fer from mal de mer. It made sense that someone would fall ill on this passage. Although, I truly did not think it would be almost everyone but the crew.”

  Dark circles bruised her eyes. He wondered how much sleep she’d had if she was nursing him and, possibly, others. “You didn’t become sick.”

  “No. I felt confident I would not.” She tidied the bedding and fluffed up his pillow as if she needed to do something other than talk with him. “I spent much of my childhood on boats and private yachts. I have never been ill while onboard.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  She arched one blond brow. The ire was back. “Did you even care?”

  “Of course I care.” What the devil was she so livid about? It had to be something other than him going out and not sending word. “You are my wife. Why would I not wish to know?”

  “Ah, yes.” Sarcasm infused her tone. “I am your extremely qualified wife.” Striding to the door she opened it. “I shall send Nettle to you.”

  “Elizabeth,” he called out. If he could just keep her talking he might discover why she was so upset.

  Halfway out the door she stopped. “Do you wish for something, husband?”

  Yes. Tell me why you are so furious with me. Yet, he didn’t say it. “No. I wanted to thank you for nursing me.”

  “You are welcome.” She swept out of the cabin, and he was left alone again with his own thoughts.

  Somehow he had to bring her around.

  He wondered why she had mentioned how well qualified she was. He had always thought so. In fact, he’d made sure of it. His wife would have responsibilities and she should know how to handle them. Elizabeth was actually even more well suited to her position than he had known.

  Still, there was something about the way she had said it. As if she was unhappy about her qualifications. Why would that be when he was delighted with her? Clearly, something else was wrong. If only he knew what it was, he would make it better, give her anything she wanted.

  Before long, Nettle entered the room looking as well groomed as always—which for some reason irritated Geoff—carrying a large ewer. “The captain says we’ll reach the port in about an hour.” His valet poured water from the ewer into a bowl set in a wooden stand. “Her ladyship says that if you can sit up, wash, and be shaved, you may leave your bed. But if you are feeling like you are getting sick again you are to lie right back down.”

  Geoff wondered if he should pretend to be ill just so she would return to their cabin. He sat up. “I’ll brush my teeth first.”

  An hour later, Geoff sat on the bed as he wound his cravat around his neck. So far, so good, and he’d be on dry land soon. One day in Ostend to recover from the crossing, and they would continue on their journey.

  The last letter he’d received stated that Sir Charles wanted Geoff to come to him in Brussels. The question was if those instructions were still valid, or would Geoff be sent to The Hague, or Brussels, or some other place. It would behoove him to send a messenger and ask.

  No matter where he was assigned, his father had arranged for houses in Ghent—because the French king was there, The Hague—which he did not understand at all—and Brussels where it seemed everything of import was taking place.

  His only real concern was that he might be called upon to ride ahead. Thus far, Elizabeth had proven herself to be equal to anything, but he would not like leaving her alone to manage in a strange country.

  Well, there was no point worrying about what might happen when he should be applying himself to what was happening, or rather not happening with his wife.

  Who, it appeared, was once more avoiding him. Geoff stood slowly; fortunately, he still felt fine. He made his way along the corridor to the companionway and onto the deck. The crew was busy lowering some of the sails. When he glanced toward the bow, he could see the town of Ostend.

  To the front and sides of him, sailing vessels crowded the harbor.

  “We’re getting ready to anchor,” Mr. Benchley, the ship’s master said.

  “I didn’t expect to see so many ships.”

  “More than usual. It will be the same in Antwerp. If it doesn’t go well for us, there will be a lot of people trying to get back to England.”

  For the first time, a spike of fear for Elizabeth speared Geoff’s chest. Sir Charles had not brought his wife, Lady Elizabeth, but Geoff had never even thought to leave his wife in England. Perhaps he was being selfish wanting Elizabeth by his side. He could offer to send her back, but with matters so unsettled between them, the rift might grow. Was that selfish of him as well? If her life was at risk here . . . He should allow her to decide.

  “Will you remain in Ostend for the nonce?”

  “I expect we will.” The master glanced at Geoff. “Lady Harrington is welcome to sail with us anytime she’d like. We wouldn’t have been able to nurse everyone who got sick if it hadn’t been for her.” He wondered what exactly she had done, but did not want to betray their problems by asking. He needn’t have worried. Benchley was happy to talk about it. “You were ill yourself, so you might not know. She not only had your servants, the ones who were not feeling poorly, help with the soldiers, but I don’t think there is any ginger left in Harwich in any form, so much did she bring aboard. She even helped nurse the others herself until you needed her. We’re grateful for her assistance.”

  “Thank you for telling me.” Geoff was surprised she hadn’t slept longer. Elizabeth must be exhausted. “When I awoke this morning she was more interested in making sure I had recovered, than relating to me what she had done.”

  “I had the feeling when I met her she was that type of lady. Doing for others and not bragging about herself. Women like that don’t come around often.”

  “No, they don’t.” He thought back to all she had done to prepare for their journey, never once complaining about it. She’d simply taken on the task and done it. He was beginning to think there was nothing Elizabeth could not do. She was definitely more capable than he had thought even a week ago. What other talents did Elizabeth have that Geoff had no idea she possessed? “If we have need of you, where can we send a message?”

  “At the Schip. The landlord there will get word to us.” The master stood back and executed a short bow. “I’d better get back to my duties.”

  “Thank you,” Geoff said. “Do you know when the captain expects to be able to dock?”

  “They move them in and out at a pretty smart pace,” Benchley said, eyeing the harbor. “Sometime tomorrow or even this afternoon, if we’re lucky.” The ship jerked, causing him to brace. “Ah, good, the anchor’s set. The skipper will have orders now.”

  Geoff watched as the man moved toward where the captain was standing, next to his first officer. He scanned the deck expecting to see Elizabeth, but there was no sign of her. He hoped she had taken a nap, but, somehow he doubted it. It occurred to him that she gave the impression of being restful when in reality she was in constant movement. The only time he’s seen her still was when she was asleep. It had been much too long since he’d held her against him.

  Soon, he vowed to himself. Soon they would be back to the way they were right after their wedding.

  Chapter Thirty

  By the time the ship had anchored in the Ostend harbor to await a berth, Elizabeth had washed and changed in her maid’s cabin. She did not dare go into hers. Geoffrey in bed, now that he was feeling better, was simply too much temptation to bear. The only way she had found to rid herself of her need for him was to turn into a shrew. And she could not keep that type of behavior up for long.

  Her mother-in-law had agreed she could drop hints, and Elizabeth had tried, but they had slid right by Geoffrey, just as the dowager said they would.

  She rubbed her forehead, hoping she was not getting a headache. The best thing she could do was to continue to keep her distance and pray he would realize that he loved her. If only she could think of a better plan.

  She climbed up the companionway, spying Lord John at the rail
. With his soldiers recovering from mal de mer, the colonel decided to ferry his men to land rather than wait for the ship to dock.

  Glancing her way he smiled at her and bowed. “I wanted to thank you for your help and that of your servants, my lady.”

  “I only did what was necessary, my lord.” Honestly, she hadn’t done anything anyone else would not have done.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Be that as it may, I do not know many ladies, even soldiers’ wives, who would have nursed common soldiers as you did. Your husband’s a lucky man.”

  She could not stop the warmth that rose in her cheeks. “Thank you, my lord. I wish you a safe journey and good luck afterward.”

  “Thank you my lady. I think we’ll need it.” The lines etched in his face seemed harder.

  “Perhaps we shall see you in Brussels.” She smiled brightly, trying to lighten his mood.

  “I hope we do.” He smiled, and inclined his head before striding off and ordering his major and batman into the first boat with orders to find them places to stay until their provisions could be offloaded.

  “Do you wish to go ashore as well?” Geoffrey appeared at her side, taking her hand and tucking it in the crook of his arm as he waved farewell to the colonel’s men.

  Normally, she would be happy to remain aboard, but then she’d be faced with having to sleep in the same bed as her husband. “Yes. We may as well leave the captain to deal with finding a berth and not have to bother with us. Nettle said we have a hotel arranged. We can send him and Vickers ahead to get everything ready.”

  Geoffrey tugged her a little closer, and she fought the urge to lean into him. “Very well. I’ll let the captain know.”

  But just then Captain Higgins strolled up to them. “If you don’t mind, I’ll send you to shore as soon as I get the last of the soldiers off.”

  Trying and failing to ignore the tingling sensations caused by her husband, Elizabeth grinned at the captain. “We just now decided the same thing.”