India Black and the Rajah's Ruby by Carol K. Carr Read Free Book Online

me, who helped me change into my dressing gown and slippers and combed out my hair for me. Then she settled me in bed with a book and a candle and told me that if I should need anything, to just pull the cord next to the bed and she would respond. It was then my stomach lurched. I drew a deep breath, fighting back the queasiness. Lord, I hadn’t felt this anxious and roiled since I’d turned my first trick.
    “Please ask Mr. Barrett to come to my room,” I told the maid. “That will be all.”
    She bowed herself out and I waited impatiently while the butterflies danced in my stomach.
    There was a quiet knock at the door and Philip entered, wearing a staid charcoal wool dressing gown and peacock blue pajamas. He stopped short when he saw me. “You look dreadful, India. What’s the matter?”
    I smiled wanly. “I’m afraid I may have acquired your malady. I’m feeling deuced odd. But come here, dear. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
    He hurried across the room and sat down on the bed, taking my hand in his.
    “What is it?”
    “That fellow Ashton.” I’d been struck by the fellow’s avaricious gaze upon the Rajah’s Ruby.
    A spasm of anger crossed Philip’s face. “That wretch. I don’t like him. He’s a forward chap, and arrogant to boot.”
    “He’s a wrong ’un.” I said. “I know. I’ve met plenty like him in my time.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “He’s got something up his sleeve. Did you see how he pressed White to show off the jewel?”
    “You don’t think—”
    “I’m not sure what to think, but I believe the chap bears watching.”
    Philip shrugged. “Well, he’s White’s guest and I suppose if he had any doubts about the bloke’s character he wouldn’t have invited him here. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
    “You’re probably right.” My stomach pitched again, and I gasped.
    “Poor dear. Can I do anything for you?”
    I closed my eyes and leaned back against the pillows. “I need something to settle my stomach. Can you ring for one of the servants?”
    “Certainly.” He sprang to his feet and tugged the bellpull beside the bed. “What would you like? Some bismuth? Or would wine suit you?”
    “I really think I’d like some milk. Yes, a glass of milk would do admirably.”
    Philip looked dubious. “Milk?”
    “Milk,” I said firmly and stirred feebly under the covers. “My stomach feels quite odd. Where’s a bloody servant when you need one?”
    Philip yanked the cord once more. I moaned gently. Philip paced the rug, gnawing a thumb and looking anxiously at me.
    “I don’t think anyone is coming,” I said.
    Philip opened the door and looked down the hallway. “I don’t see a soul.”
    “Could you be a dear and go and find someone?”
    He smothered a look of irritation. Well, I didn’t expect he’d recovered from his own bout of illness. “Of course, darling. I’ll be right back.” He strode out, shutting the door behind him.
    It took him a quarter of an hour to return with a housemaid in tow, her hair straggling around her shoulders and her eyes filmed with sleep. She bore a tray with a glass of milk covered by a napkin.
    “Oh, thank you, Philip.” I was shaking by now, breathing rapidly. “Where were you, you wretched girl?”
    “I’m dreadfully sorry, ma’am. I didn’t hear the bell.”
    “I had to track down the butler,” said Philip.
    I took the proffered glass and swallowed a mouthful of the milk. It was warm and viscous and tasted horrible, but I felt my stomach begin to settle almost immediately. I took a deep breath and another swallow and in a minute had relaxed against the pillows, earning a look of relief from both Philip and the maid. I handed the empty glass to her and smiled at Philip.
    “I’m feeling much better now,” I announced.
    “Will you require anything else, ma’am?” The maid shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “I could sleep here in the chair, in case you come over