Page 79 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
Kate narrowed her eyes. Yes, Theo had experienced more grief than most, but she’d had enough of this attitude. “How about you trust me to know what I need and ask for it rather than assuming you’re solely responsible for my health and welfare and that I’m incapable of expressing myself? I’m a person with my own thoughts and agenda. I’m not a helpless child beholden to you.”
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. “I…. I….”
She crossed her arms and waited. “Yes?”
“You deserve better,” he said, and turned on his heel and fled.
Kate sighed. “Well, that went poorly.”
CHAPTER 25
“Haveyou seen Lady Blackwell this morning?” Theo asked Mrs. Tubbs as she walked past the room he was eating breakfast in.
After he’d made an ass of himself the other day, he’d apologized to Kate with a gift of special artists’ paints delivered from London that he’d been assured were perfect for painting country landscapes.
She’d accepted his apology and told him he needn’t have bought her a gift, but he’d seen the excitement in her eyes and the tiny smile she couldn’t quite hide. It pleased him to buy her something she would take joy from.
They hadn’t discussed any feelings between them further but seemed to have come to a silent understanding. They no longer avoided each other, and he adored being able to spend more time in her company.
Considering their tentative new closeness, it was strange that she hadn’t joined him for breakfast.
“I haven’t seen her, my lord,” Mrs. Tubbs said, then hesitated.
“What?” Theo demanded, not liking that hesitation.
Mrs. Tubbs grimaced. “It’s nothing, I’m sure.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell me what’s worrying you, and I’ll decide whether I ought to be concerned or not.”
She nodded. “Very well. I believe I heard Margaret telling Samuel that her ladyship is under the weather.”
“Under the weather how?” he asked, his heart rate picking up. In the time since he’d met her, he hadn’t known Kate to be sickly.
His mind flashed to memories of opening the viscountess’s bedchamber and finding Elizabeth lying in bed, the curtains pulled, crying silently because her courses had arrived once again.
Perhaps Kate’s monthly flow was here. He’d known since the night they’d been together that either her courses would come and he’d have to deal with the fallout of her not being pregnant or that his seed would take and he’d spend months in an agony of waiting, praying that they didn’t lose the baby. There was nothing to be done about it now except wait and see.
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Tubbs lowered her gaze. “I didn’t stay to listen.”
“Thank you for telling me what you know.” He dismissed her with a nod, and she hurried out.
He stared at his empty plate, relieved that he’d already eaten. If he’d waited, he’d likely have had no appetite. As it was, the food sat heavy in his gut like a lump of lead his body didn’t know how to process. The back of his throat burned, and he drank the rest of his tea, hoping to soothe it, but the liquid didn’t help.
He pushed back his chair, got up, and made his way through the house to the bedchamber Kate was staying in. He hadn’t asked what changes she was making to the viscountess’s chambers. Honestly, he didn’t care. She’d done nothing but respect Elizabeth’s memory, and she deserved to be comfortable in her private space.
He knocked. Seconds passed by, and no one responded. He knocked again. There was a muffled grunt inside. Concerned, he opened the door and stuck his head in.
The curtains were pulled, and the room was dim, but he could clearly see Kate huddled on the floor beside the bed with an empty chamber pot cradled on her lap. As he watched, she convulsed and retched into it, the sour stench of vomit permeating the air.
Wrinkling his nose, he hurried over and dropped to his knees beside her. He rested one hand on the back of her neck, and when she leaned over the chamber pot again, he helped hold her hair back as she emptied her stomach with a full-body shudder.
When she finished casting up her accounts, she turned to him, looking utterly miserable. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Her cheeks were paler than usual, her eyes were watery, and when he touched the backs of his fingers to her forehead, she was hot and clammy.
“How long have you been feeling unwell?” he asked, waiting until it was clear that she wasn’t about to be sick again before easing the chamber pot from her grip.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the bed. “On and off for a few days, but this is the first time I’ve thrown up.”
