Loving Lady Marcia by Kieran Kramer Page B

did she have?
    Dr. Trimp rubbed his beard. “You’re pale of a sudden. And trembling. Do you need a glass of water?”
    “No,” she said in a thin voice. “No, not at all.” She felt she was about to be sick.
    “Lady Marcia.” The doctor’s voice was firm. “Are you planning to do something you shouldn’t? Such as seek out Lady Ennis—right now?”
    She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak.
    “I see.” He pressed her hand and then her wrist. “Skin moist. Pulse is skippy. Perhaps you should sit back down.”
    “I’m all right.” Marcia forced herself to feel hearty, like Daddy. “Really, I am. And it’s merely my hem—that needs fixing.” She pointed over her shoulder. “In the retiring room.”
    The doctor shook his head. “If you really think you can … fix your hem, go do it. But no fainting, please.”
    “All right.”
    “Wait.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, adding whatever golden liquid was in it to a glass of lemonade. “Drink this first.”
    Marcia drank it. Something warm and fiery went down her throat, and she coughed, as delicately as she possibly could at a card party. She was thankful most of the elderly people here were hard of hearing.
    “What was it?” she gasped softly.
    “A bit of Scottish whisky. Enough to help you … with your hem.” He winked. “I wish I could go with you,” he added wistfully, “but I’ve the sisters to look after.” He glanced over at his card companions, who’d returned to the table and were happily eating their second helpings of trifle.
    “It’s all right,” Marcia told him. “Some things a woman has to fix alone. So that she may be herself entirely. Without interference. Because certain matters are that important.”
    “Hems are,” he said in a teasing manner.
    “Exactly.”
    They smiled at each other.
    “Good luck,” he told her. “If you were seventeen or eighteen and this were your first Season, I’d force you to stay here … with your torn hem. But you’re a bit older now, eh? Headmistress of a school. No doubt you’ve faced many a trial looking after your charges.”
    “That’s right.” She drew herself up. “I think I’ll leave a note with the butler telling my parents I slipped out to go home. In case they become worried. About my hem.”
    “Excellent idea. And one more thing. It hasn’t made the papers yet, but the Duke of Beauchamp has a twelve-year-old granddaughter who despises her Swiss boarding school.”
    “Really? The Swiss schools are excellent. My own sister attended one. I wonder why the girl’s unhappy?”
    “I don’t know. ” Dr. Trimp threw her an exasperated look. “That wasn’t my point. My point is that Ella McCloud doesn’t even know. Only I do. The duke is my patient, and he was grumbling about the situation just yesterday.”
    “Ohhh,” Marcia said. “Oh, I see.” She bit her lip. “Thank you.”
    “My pleasure.” The doctor chuckled. “Let me know how the hem situation resolves itself.”
    “I will.”
    Marcia wrote a brief note in the library and gave it to the butler to hold for her parents. “I really must go,” she told him, “and I don’t want to disturb the party. Could you tell me the nearest spot to flag down a hackney, please?”
    He told her. “But a young lady shouldn’t—”
    “I’ll be fine,” she interrupted him gently. “I promise. It’s rather an emergency.” She pulled a poker from behind her back. “I’m only going to borrow this,” she whispered. “I promise I’ll return it tomorrow behind the bushes out front.” She waggled her brows.
    “If you insist, my lady,” he said, not moving a muscle in his face.
    “Don’t fret.” She winked. “At least something happened at this card party, wouldn’t you agree?”
    “Yes,” he returned smoothly. “But I can only hope nothing happens anywhere else you travel tonight.”
    “Oh, it won’t. This is the most exciting it will get.” She accepted help with her