“My father always told me I was like him. I could get knocked about, even stomped on, and never show a mark. I like Bad Boy. Do you think James would sell him to me?”
“Not in this lifetime. But he is talking about breeding him. I’ll come to an agreement with him. How do you feel?”
“You know that Normandy church in Easterly? I feel like the bells are clanging inside my head.”
“Good. They’re lovely, those bells. Would you like some more laudanum?”
She shook her head. “Are the horses all right?”
“Dodger seems quite content to whinny over his stall door at both Delilah and Penelope. As for Charlemagne, he got extra oats and a good brushing. Henry told him even though he had a rotten bloodline, he was a steadfast lad, one could count on him.”
“I want to race him next week at Hallum Heath.”
“I’m riding Dodger in that race.”
“You’re too big. You’ll lose.”
“I know, it simply sounds nice to say it. We’ve a jockey arriving early next week, in time for that race. He’s ridden for the Rothermere racing stables for seven years now, ever since he was fifteen. He’s marrying a local girl, moving here, and we are the ones to benefit from Rothermere’s loss. His name is Lorry Dale. Phillip Hawksbury, he’s the earl of Rothermere, said Lorry stuck to a horse’s back like a tick. He only weights eight and a half stone.”
“Hmm.”
“We can both attend, make certain nothing bad is taking place, shout ourselves hoarse, and have some fun. Dodger will win with Lorry on his back.”
“I weigh eight stone.”
“This isn’t Baltimore, and you aren’t Jessie Wyndham. You will not race here, Hallie. Living with me is difficult enough for people to accept, and they only do it because of my family. Your riding in a horse race wouldn’t be tolerated. You’d have to shoot yourself dead to be forgiven that transgression. The winner’s purse is one hundred pounds. Money we can well use.”
“But-”
He lightly placed his fingertips over her mouth. She froze. Jason did as well. Neither moved. Suddenly, Jason took three steps back from her bed, stuck his hands behind his back. He looked toward the door. “I’m going out.”
Hallie felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. She watched him walk backward, looking at her like he wanted to-what? She didn’t know. He was flushed, his eyes looked funny. He wanted to leave? He’d touched her mouth and he couldn’t wait to get away from her? “What do you mean you’re going out? You said nothing before. It’s nearly nine o’clock at night. Jason, wait, where are you going?”
“I’m going out now.” And he was gone in the next thirty seconds. It wasn’t the first time he’d absented himself abruptly in the evenings, for no particular reason that she knew of. Four times now, five? And when did he come home? That was a good question.
Hallie heard him walk by her bedchamber near dawn. She jumped out of bed, nearly fell over at the drumming pain in her head, but managed to stumble out into the corridor. She saw him with his hand out to grasp the door handle on his bedchamber door.
“You just got home. You’re whistling? It’s almost daylight!”
He jerked around like he’d been shot. He saw it was her, saw she was weaving in her open doorway, and started walking back to her. “Yes, I’m home. Let’s get you back to bed, Hallie. What were you doing awake?”
“I was nearly awake when you walked by. Oh dear, where’s the chamber pot?”
CHAPTER 29
He held her while she heaved and shuddered and felt her belly clench in on itself since there was nothing to come up.
His guilt was heavy; he never should have left her. It was all his fault. He’d been only concerned with himself. And so he pulled back her hair now and yelled at her bent head, “Why the hell didn’t you call for help if you felt ill? Why did you leap out of your bed when you heard me outside? Have you no brain at all?”
She finally stilled. He pulled her back against him. The weight of her breasts on his crossed arms felt very nice, but he could take it now. He’d worked himself nearly to death last night to be able to take it now.
Her breathing was calmer, she was relaxing more against him. Her hair was tousled and smelled of jasmine since Martha had washed out Georgiana’s scent. “How do you feel?”
It was the oddest thing. He could feel her thinking. Finally she said, her breath warm against his arm, “I don’t want to die at the moment and that’s good. But my belly feels like it’s raw.”
“You’re far too obstinate to die anytime in the next fifty years. All right now, I’m going to heave you back into bed.”
When he’d pulled the covers to her waist, he gave her some tea that had steeped since the previous night. She sipped it and nearly rose straight off the bed. “Oh goodness, that tea has vampire teeth.”
“Yes, I thought it might do the trick. Cleared your head right out, didn’t it?”
She breathed through her nose as the world tilted, then felt her belly calm. Jason eased her head down on the pillow. “I’m all right now. I don’t know what happened-”
He said, “I’m thinking now you weren’t feeling ill. You got out of bed to come and spy on me, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, it doesn’t sound very noble, but that’s the way it was. I’ll tell you now, Jason, I wouldn’t have if I’d known what would happen.”
“Consider it the wages of sin.” He stood beside her, pulled the covers to her chin, and realized his arms were still warm from her breasts. He frowned. Everything, he’d learned, was temporary in life, and sometimes, like now, it was a damned nuisance.
He was backing away from her bed again.
“What is the matter with you, Jason? Are you going out again?”
“What? Oh, no, I’m going to bed. I added a bit of laudanum to the tea. You should be asleep in two minutes. Don’t worry about anything.” And he was gone from her bedchamber, closing the door quietly after him. She heard his boots in the corridor.
She was asleep, belly and head calm, within the next minute.
It was a hot morning in July. Jason could smell the freshly scythed grass from the open breakfast-room window. It filled him with contentment, that, and the fact that there were now six mares in the stables, hopefully all of them pregnant, all of them sent by friends or friends of friends or friends of relatives.
“Isn’t it nice having such lovely big families?” Angela said at the breakfast table. “This is a note from your aunt Arielle, Hallie. She writes that the duke of Portsmouth will be contacting you and Jason about two mares to be covered by Dodger. He also wants to breed his favorite stallion with Piccola next year.” Angela raised her head.
Jason appeared distracted. “Yes, Angela, lovely.”
Hallie licked some gooseberry jam off her toast, looked at him, and sneered. “What is this? You wish to run away in the morning?”
Jason tapped his fork on the plate, picked up a slice of bacon and ate it. He rose. “I have work to do,” he said, and was gone.
“The young master seems to have a lot on his mind,” Angela said. “Perhaps Petrie will know what’s going on.”
“Petrie is a clam when it comes to Jason. As wily and subtle as I am, even I couldn’t get a thing out of him.”
“Perhaps Petrie needs a more mature hand, one that makes a lovely fist.”
“Hmm. I never thought about threatening him,” Hallie said.
“I will begin with wearing a soft glove over the fist.” Angela left the breakfast room humming.
Hallie looked down the short expanse of breakfast table and saw that Jason had left most of the food on his plate. What the devil was wrong with him? He seemed jumpy lately, as if, somehow, he were in some kind of distress. This wasn’t good. She had to find out what was going on with him. After Angela was done with Petrie, Hallie would push her own gloved fist in his face.