Meant to Bea

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

“It is probably a migraine.” Mr. Anderson's pointy nose scrunched up forming two deep lines across his forehead as he stared down at Bianca. “Perhaps you must try as much as possible not to exert yourself?” He rose a bushy brow.

Nodding, Bianca sat upright and rubbed her forehead. “Perhaps.”

Race frowned. “Will she be alright?”

Bianca had woken up that morning complaining of yet another headache. Although he was thankful she hadn't fainted like the last time, he was worried.

Mr. Anderson turned to him, the frown on his face disappearing. “She will, if she rests more often. I shall of course show up here to carry out some more exams.”

Releasing a breath, Race leaned down over her, and placed his hand on her damp forehead. Her skin was cold, but it did not make him feel the least bit relieved about her health. It didn't take away his anxiety over her recent bouts of headaches and dizziness.

He shifted his hand to her cheek and down to her neck, checking for signs of a fever; there was none.

He straightened. “Perhaps there is something she can be given to ease her headaches?” He turned back to the physician who turned briefly to stare at her, before turning his attention back to Race.

“Some laudanum, but it shall cause her to sleep most of the time.”

“I do not wish to lie flat on my back all day, confined to a bed.” Bianca called from her position on the bed, but Race did not turn to acknowledge her. He knew she was stubborn, and would most likely disobey the physician's instructions, but as much as it was within his ability, he was going to force her to lie on her back the entire day.

“I must leave now.” Mr. Anderson picked up his bag from the foot of the bed.

Race stretched his hand for a handshake. “Thank you so much.” The older man took his hand, but rather than just a handshake, he pulled Race into an embrace.

Momentarily confused, he stood stiff for a few seconds.

“I shall await your presence in the drawing room, Mr. Belington. We must speak in private. Wait a few more minutes, and then follow me.” He whispered quickly into Race's ear, before releasing his hold on him, and walking away.

Race stared after him for a few seconds, slightly confused. Obviously, the physician wanted to discuss something with him in private without Bianca catching a wind of it. Still, he was confused about what it was he wanted to discuss. Was Bianca terribly sick? Or did he want to discuss something else?

Curious, he turned to Bianca —rather than make his way out of the room immediately, for he remembered the instruction to wait for a little while— and sat on the edge of her bed.

He took her hand. “Feeling any better?”

She nodded. “Perhaps I need to sleep for a little while longer.”

“Of course. I shall also inform Camden of our inability to attend the dinner he's having tonight.”

“But why not?” She frowned.

“Because Mr. Anderson was quite clear about his instruction to have you rested.”

“He didn't say I must never attend social gatherings. Besides, didn't you say part of the reason Camden was having the dinner was to meet with some of the Lords my father owed?” She waited for him to nod to her words. “Good, then I shall like to be present. It will be best if we are both present, Race.” She said, seeing the look of reluctance in his eyes. “Camden is trying to help and has gone through all this trouble to do so, we must not disrespect him by neglecting to attend.”