She would have scolded him for taking such liberties, but suddenly his other hand slipped behind her knees and then she was suspended in air. He walked over to her bunk and laid her on it. "Stay put. I'll be right back."
It seemed like hours before she heard Drake's voice again. "Help her into her nightrail. Her corset is undoubtedly just making it worse."
Thea spoke over the mumbled words of the woman Drake had brought with him. "I don't wear a corset. They aren't healthy. Several forward-thinking physicians have already denounced them in America. It is just a matter of time before English women realize their peril."
"Bloody hell. I should have guessed you'd be too damn independent to even dress like other women."
"Don't swear at me. It makes my head pound."
He swore again and then grimaced. "I'm sorry." He pressed a wet cloth to her forehead. "This will help your head."
The other woman said, "Changing into her nightrail will undoubtedly make her more comfortable, corsets or not. Her petticoats can't be comfortable in this heat."
Heat? What was the woman blathering about? It was cold as anything in her cabin. Maybe if she were wearing the petticoats the other woman thought she was, Thea would be warmer. She wasn't about to have a stranger undress her and discover the concessions she made to the Caribbean heat. Aunt Ruth would have apoplexy if she knew.
"No."
Drake soothed her with a hand on her hair. "Shh. It's quite all right. Mrs. Coombs is a companion to one of the passengers on board. She will help you change."
"I don't want a stranger to undress me."
He sighed, his expression both concerned and chagrined. "This is no time to be argumentative, Miss Selwyn. You are in no condition to dress yourself."
She felt tears in her eyes and blinked at them. It must be the seasickness. She never cried. "Please."
He brushed at the wetness on her cheek. "Very well. Mrs. Coombs and I will leave you alone for a few minutes while you change into less confining clothes."
/> He stood up and she had an insane urge to beg him to stay. He couldn't, of course. It was unthinkable. But his presence comforted her.
She heard the door of her cabin close. Removing the cloth from her eyes, she verified that the room was empty except for her and the sleeping Melly. She forced herself to stand. She opened the trunk, breathing shallowly lest she bring on another bout of the sickness. She pulled out her nightrail and wrapper. Undoing the tapes on her gown, she let it fall to the floor and pulled the other garments on. Mrs. Coombs had been right. They were more comfortable.
She left her dress in a heap on the floor and slowly made her way back to the bed just as a soft knock sounded on the door.
"Miss Selwyn, are you finished?"
"Yes."
He opened the door and she saw that he was alone.
"Where is Mrs. Coombs?"
"I sent her back to her dinner."
He moved to sit next to her on the bed.
"This is not at all proper."
Picking up the damp cloth, he shrugged. "Nonsense. Your maid is here."
Laughter surprised her. She didn't know she was still capable of mirth. "Melly is sleeping like she took a hefty dose of laudanum."
"The tea sometimes has that effect."
She looked sideways at him. "It must have something more than ginger in it."
He shrugged again. "A few things."
"May I have some?"