Read Online Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor by Regina Jeffers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Regina Jeffers
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morbid!”
John’s upper lip snarled. “Lady Fiona has known her Maker for some six weeks. What remains of her body can bring me no harm!”
“It is still melancholic,” his wife argued.
“Personally,” Miss Neville ventured, “I would find it comforting to escort my father’s remains to our home in Ireland. It would be far better than never to know his fate. Farewells should be spoken for resolution.”
Satiné gathered the blanket to her neck. “There are times, Isolde, that your optimism is burdensome.”
John held the random thought Miss Neville’s optimism outshone his wife’s attitude. “We must make an immediate decision. Time is of an essence. Do you have an alternate suggestion, Satiné?”
Grudgingly, his wife said, “No, my Lord.”
John turned to Miss Neville. “I will dress and reorganize my belongings if you will see to the baroness’s things. When I have moved into the smallest cabin, I will return to assist in transferring my wife’s baggage to my current quarters. Please act with haste before members of the crew take note of our actions.”
Within three-quarters hour, John had carried Satiné to the bed–his bed, the one he should have shared with her the previous evening. It was quite satisfying to hold her against his chest–to nuzzle her neck and to inhale her scent. His wife’s fever had returned, and she rested listlessly against him, snuggled closer to him. Some part of him acknowledged the danger of her illness, but John did not fear her demise. He could not believe God would deliver Satiné Aldridge into his arms and then snatch her away so quickly. “I will tend you once I have you safely settled,” he whispered into her ear. She did not respond, simply pulled closer, and John knew contentment. Certainly, he could not say their path had been easy, but he held the hope of a more fulfilling future.
John lowered her to the narrow bed and then went about tucking Satiné in. Retrieving fresh water, he poured some into a small bowl. Using a cloth, he washed her face and arms. Satiné slept restlessly, and he watched her carefully. When the Realm had been in Brittany, one of Fowler’s most trusted servants had succumbed to measles. He recalled the physician overseeing the man’s care remarking how the fever and the diarrhea and the nausea were the most significant symptoms.
“Do you require my assistance?” Miss Neville asked from the partially opened door.
John glanced up with gratitude. “I was just considering what I knew of my wife’s condition,” he said softly so as not to disturb Satiné.
“The first three or four days are usually the worst,” Miss Neville shared. “My younger cousins were often so afflicted. “Most who know the disease find too much light hurts their eyes, and it is customary for the person to suffer for a fortnight.”
He nodded, pleased for the information. “I had thought to tell anyone who asked after the baroness that my wife is not a good sea traveler. Such an excuse would explain Satiné’s prolonged taking to her bed, as well as her lack of appetite.”
“An excellent choice,” Miss Neville whispered. “I shall instruct Miss Tailor to respond as such.” With that, the lady presented him a quick curtsy. “I told the boy’s nurse if you did not require my assistance, I would return to tend the child so Mrs. Tailor might enjoy her breakfast in peace. May I have someone bring you a tray?”
“I worry the smells could cause Lady Swenton discomfort. I am not of the persuasion to act purely from my own desires.”
Miss Neville remarked prosaically, “I doubt, Baron, you possess a selfish bone in your body.”
*
Isolde caressed the cheek of the sleeping child before planting a soft kiss upon his fine dark hair. Since the child’s birth, she had regularly stolen away to the nursery, especially when Miss Aldridge had slept through her meal times rather to consume the food Cook had prepared for the household. “Your mother
John’s upper lip snarled. “Lady Fiona has known her Maker for some six weeks. What remains of her body can bring me no harm!”
“It is still melancholic,” his wife argued.
“Personally,” Miss Neville ventured, “I would find it comforting to escort my father’s remains to our home in Ireland. It would be far better than never to know his fate. Farewells should be spoken for resolution.”
Satiné gathered the blanket to her neck. “There are times, Isolde, that your optimism is burdensome.”
John held the random thought Miss Neville’s optimism outshone his wife’s attitude. “We must make an immediate decision. Time is of an essence. Do you have an alternate suggestion, Satiné?”
Grudgingly, his wife said, “No, my Lord.”
John turned to Miss Neville. “I will dress and reorganize my belongings if you will see to the baroness’s things. When I have moved into the smallest cabin, I will return to assist in transferring my wife’s baggage to my current quarters. Please act with haste before members of the crew take note of our actions.”
Within three-quarters hour, John had carried Satiné to the bed–his bed, the one he should have shared with her the previous evening. It was quite satisfying to hold her against his chest–to nuzzle her neck and to inhale her scent. His wife’s fever had returned, and she rested listlessly against him, snuggled closer to him. Some part of him acknowledged the danger of her illness, but John did not fear her demise. He could not believe God would deliver Satiné Aldridge into his arms and then snatch her away so quickly. “I will tend you once I have you safely settled,” he whispered into her ear. She did not respond, simply pulled closer, and John knew contentment. Certainly, he could not say their path had been easy, but he held the hope of a more fulfilling future.
John lowered her to the narrow bed and then went about tucking Satiné in. Retrieving fresh water, he poured some into a small bowl. Using a cloth, he washed her face and arms. Satiné slept restlessly, and he watched her carefully. When the Realm had been in Brittany, one of Fowler’s most trusted servants had succumbed to measles. He recalled the physician overseeing the man’s care remarking how the fever and the diarrhea and the nausea were the most significant symptoms.
“Do you require my assistance?” Miss Neville asked from the partially opened door.
John glanced up with gratitude. “I was just considering what I knew of my wife’s condition,” he said softly so as not to disturb Satiné.
“The first three or four days are usually the worst,” Miss Neville shared. “My younger cousins were often so afflicted. “Most who know the disease find too much light hurts their eyes, and it is customary for the person to suffer for a fortnight.”
He nodded, pleased for the information. “I had thought to tell anyone who asked after the baroness that my wife is not a good sea traveler. Such an excuse would explain Satiné’s prolonged taking to her bed, as well as her lack of appetite.”
“An excellent choice,” Miss Neville whispered. “I shall instruct Miss Tailor to respond as such.” With that, the lady presented him a quick curtsy. “I told the boy’s nurse if you did not require my assistance, I would return to tend the child so Mrs. Tailor might enjoy her breakfast in peace. May I have someone bring you a tray?”
“I worry the smells could cause Lady Swenton discomfort. I am not of the persuasion to act purely from my own desires.”
Miss Neville remarked prosaically, “I doubt, Baron, you possess a selfish bone in your body.”
*
Isolde caressed the cheek of the sleeping child before planting a soft kiss upon his fine dark hair. Since the child’s birth, she had regularly stolen away to the nursery, especially when Miss Aldridge had slept through her meal times rather to consume the food Cook had prepared for the household. “Your mother
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