Amanda Scott by Sisters Traherne (Lady Meriel's Duty; Lord Lyford's Secret) Read Free Book Online Page B

long before Meriel realized that they could not stay where they were. Lady Cadogan had stepped out onto the aft gallery as soon as she recognized Gwenyth’s distress, but the two other ladies who had been present when they entered the saloon had merely turned discreetly away. By the time Gwenyth pushed the bucket away and slumped miserably back upon the bench, both women were showing visible signs of distress themselves, and Meriel could scarcely blame them. She, too, felt rather sick.
    Drawing a deep breath didn’t help, for in the confines of the saloon there was little fresh air to be had, despite the fact that Lady Cadogan had left the door leading to the aft gallery ajar. When the other women moved quickly to join her ladyship, Eliza, looking toward Meriel, clearly hesitated on the verge of following their example.
    “Go and get some air,” Meriel told her gently, “but return as quickly as you can, for I do not wish to leave her alone, and I should like someone to send for Gladys Peat. Gwen must be taken to our cabin to rest.”
    Eliza nodded and turned away, but true to her word she was quickly back again. Meriel had moved the bucket with its disgusting contents away from Gwenyth, and now that she was certain the younger girl had no immediate need of it, she picked it up to carry it out on deck. At the far side of the aft rail, after glancing around to be certain the others were far enough away not to be offended, she emptied the bucket of its contents.
    “If that stuff is what it appears to be, I’d fling the bucket overboard too,” said a lazy masculine voice from behind her.
    Turning quickly, she discovered Sir Antony moving toward her. His expression was calm, but the hazel eyes were twinkling, so she summoned up a smile. “I should like nothing more than to do as you suggest, sir, but the captain of this boat might object to my throwing his coal bucket away.”
    “So that’s what it is,” he said, lifting his quizzing glass to peer at the bucket as though it were some object of interest. “How practical you are, ma’am. I cannot think why you have been left to look after your needs alone in such a case, but I must hope that you are completely recovered from your indisposition.”
    “Oh, I am not indisposed, sir. ’Tis my youngest sister. She is not a good traveler at best, and I fear she is very ill now. Indeed, I must get her to our cabin and send someone to fetch my Abigail, who was nursemaid to nearly all of us and will know precisely what is best for Gwenyth.”
    “Allow me to assist you, ma’am.” He turned, looking forward along the rail; then, evidently catching someone’s eye, he beckoned. A moment later a young, slender, dark-haired man detached himself from a group that had been leaning over the rail watching as the boat left the waters of the bay to attack the rougher coastal swells. “Peter Trent, my valet,” said Sir Antony, regarding the approaching man. “Never far from my side. A most estimable fellow. Watches over my every need. Here, Trent, Lady Meriel has need of her tirewoman. Do see if you can find her.”
    “A pleasure to be of service,” said the young man, bowing to Meriel. He looked up, revealing shrewd slate-gray eyes beneath straight, narrow brows. He wasn’t so insolent as to regard her directly, but looked instead at a point just above her eyes as he inquired, “Her name, madam?”
    “Gladys Peat, Mr. Trent. I shall be sincerely grateful if you can find her for me.”
    Trent nodded and began to turn away, but Sir Antony stopped him with a slight gesture, taking the bucket from Meriel’s hand. “Take this away, Trent, and see that it is thoroughly cleaned before it is returned to its place in the ladies’ saloon. What did you do with the coal, ma’am?”
    Meriel found herself smiling at his matter-of-fact tone. “I dumped it onto the floor, sir,” she said.
    He nodded. “I daresay whoever attends to that bucket will see that the mess is cleaned up. I