Page 92 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
“Why is that?” she asked coquettishly.
“Because…in case you had not realized, I love you.”
She gasped as everything went a little hazy at his words. “You mean it?” she whispered breathlessly.
He nodded. “I do. You do not have to say it back or even feel it, I just —” She put her finger over his lips to shut him up.
“I love you too. I think I even said so once in the throes of passion.”
“Ah, when I am making you feel good is not the best time to tell me such a thing. I will assume it is gratitude for my actions.”
“Very well then, Eric Campbell, I love thee; does thy heart hear my words now?”
Eric beamed. “Loud and clear.”
ChapterThirty-Four
Freya sat on one of the trunks as they waited for the carriages to arrive. William and Isabella chased each other in the yard. Eric regretted that soon, Isabella would be forced to behave with more decorum and would be constrained from running around carefree and joyous.
She does not have to come out until she’s twenty-one.
He shook his head at the thought. Isabella also deserved the right to find a husband, despite how much of a child she still seemed to Eric. He glanced at Freya, who sat hunched over, huddled in her shawl. It had started to drizzle lightly, and there was a cold wind blowing.
He made his way over to her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?”
She smiled wanly. “I’m fine. Just a little headache.”
He bent down in concern. “Do you want to go and lie down? We can wait to set off if you do.”
She reached out to him, her hand pale and thin-looking. She tried to squeeze his hand, but her strength was minimal. It worried Eric even more. “I’m fine,” she said.
He watched her, shaking his head. “Freya, darling, I know you are trying to reassure me, but please, don’t lie. It makes me even more afraid for you.”
She met his eyes, trying to perk up. “All right then, my head is pounding, and I feel dizzy. I’m hungry, but I don’t want to eat lest I feel like casting up my accounts especially since we are traveling. So instead, I contend with lightheadedness. Are you happy now?”
Eric sighed. “Why would any of that make me happy? Tell me, what can I do to make it better?”
She ran a soft hand down his face. “Just seeing your concern is a balm to my spirit. I shall be all right.”
“Fine, but I’m off to consult with Mrs. Burberry. Perhaps she has a solution.”
She nodded weakly, and Eric walked off quickly. Everyone in the kitchen stopped what they were doing as soon as he walked in, and he realized he hadn’t been there since he used to steal hot cross buns. He cleared his throat in some embarrassment before catching Mrs. Burberry’s eye. She put down the bread she was kneading and came up to him. “Your Grace, may I help you with something?”
“Yes. My wife needs something to calm her belly. We will be starting out soon, and she hasn’t eaten because of nausea.”
Mrs. Burberry’s brow furrowed. “Let me think.”
Eric waited patiently as she muttered to herself.
“Well, I think some dry toast would do wonders to settle her stomach, followed by some ginger tea. Excuse me while I prepare some for her.”
Eric nodded. “Thank you.”
“Yes, I shall also pack some buttered bread for later should she begin to feel hungry, and I think some sliced cucumber should be all right. She must eat just a little at a time. And if she should feel sick, you must stop and let her rest by the side of the road for a few minutes.”
Eric nodded along, having already heard most of this from the physician. He had designated five days for a journey that might be completed in one on a fast horse. He was in no hurry and intended to treat Freya with kid gloves.
He went back to Freya, who was still huddled in her shawl but was now on her feet as several footmen loaded the carriages with luggage. He cupped her elbow gently and bent to whisper in her ear. “Come into the dining room a moment. Mrs. Burberry has something for you.”
