Page 47 of A Modest Independence

“Undoubtedly. The ship’s surgeon suggested a cup of tea to settle yours. Shall we try it?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Let’s. And then, when you’re a little more yourself, I’ll escort you up onto the deck for some fresh air.” He folded the cloth, leaving it draped over her brow as he put his spectacles back on. “But first, for my own peace of mind, I think we’d better get you into a dressing gown.”

Much to Jenny’s relief, the first dose of tea remained firmly in her stomach. Encouraged by the result, Tom plied her with weak tea and toast throughout the day. He even tidied her cabin, causing no little amount of mutual embarrassment as he folded away her corset and stockings.

Jenny watched him from where she lay propped up in her berth. She’d never seen him in his shirtsleeves before. It seemed an extraordinary intimacy. Then again, considering he’d only this morning encountered her in her petticoats and chemise, they were already on rather intimate terms.

Still, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. He’d rolled up his sleeves, revealing leanly muscled forearms that were lightly dusted with hair. He appeared to be leanly muscled everywhere, from the broadness of his linen-clad shoulders down to the cloth waistcoat he wore buttoned over his trim midsection.

A gentleman who spent most of his day at a desk shouldn’t be in such fine form. He should be soft about the middle, gone to fat from too much sitting and self-indulgence.

“Do you take exercise?” she asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re extraordinarily fit.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything extraordinary about it.” He closed her carpetbag after packing away a final stack of folded linens.

“For a solicitor?”

“Why not? We all of us are always running somewhere or other. I’ve spent the better part of my career chasing after hansom cabs and omnibuses, trying to get papers to Fothergill or to clients or to file them with the court.”

“I would think that’s what a clerk was for.”

“I don’t keep a clerk.”

“And you don’t box or fence or anything else to keep fit?”

His lips quirked. “Do I look like I box or fence?”

“You do, rather.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He crossed the cabin to stand over her berth. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I believe I do. It can’t have been pleasant to spend so much of your day in here with me. Not when I was so ill and being such a poor patient.”

“I’d far rather be here with you than socializing with Mrs. Plank and the rest of the Fishing Fleet.”

“Have you heard anything more about Mira?”

“She’s improving. Still a little feverish, but it doesn’t appear to be anything serious.”

“And Ahmad?”

“He’s camped outside the ship surgeon’s door, being completely unreasonable. She’s in no immediate danger. There’s nothing he can do for her now but allow her to get some rest.”

“I daresay he’s hoping to be of some use. To help Mira get well in the same way you helped me.”

“The difference being that you didn’t have a fever. If you had, I’d have—”

“What?” She stared up at him.