Lady Eleanor Mary Cantwell, daughter of the Marquess of Salford, is a proper young lady. With her golden complexion, raven-black hair, and manners befitting a princess, Lady Eleanor has always been deemed a belle. There is just one problem.
Lady Ele...
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Eleanor fought the urge to throw up her breakfast as the ship lurched. A storm was brewing outside and the sea showed its displeasure with its monstrous waves that rocked the ship she and Nathan were on back and forth.
'Nathan?' Eleanor whipmered and tugged at the sleeve of his jacket. They stood on the deck, watching the waves and enjoying the wild breeze that caressed their faces. At least, Nathan was. They had boarded the ship to India that morning and although it had only been two hours since they had set sail, Eleanor could not stand the smell of salt in the air or the devilish sea.
Nathan looked down at her and frowned at her face. 'Eleanor? What's the matter?'
'I need to use the powder room,' she said, clasping her hands over her mouth to prevent vomiting.
Nathan's eyes widened as understanding dawned on him. 'Lord, are you seasick?' he asked, frantic.
Eleanor could only nod. She stayed mute for fear of issuing something more than words from her mouth.
Nathan grabbed her elbow and led them inside, quickly ushering them past other passengers who looked aghast at the young woman who was trying very hard to not vomit. They stayed clear of her to avoid being the target of her unholy spew.
'Why did you not tell me before?' Nathan hissed as he pushed her into their room and shut the door behind him. Eleanor hurried to the lavatory and dropped to the ground. Clutching the sides of the closet, she heaved into it. The strong smell of acid and something putrid burned in the air which caused Eleanor to vomit once again. Just when she thought it was over - that no more of her breakfast was going to make an appearance - another bout of nausea rolled over her and groaning, her head disappeared into the closet yet again.
When she resurfaced, she felt a rub on her back and turning, found Nathan crouched beside her, his big warm hands gently moving up and down her back. The feeling was comforting and she grinned weakly at him before vomiting.
'I did not think you ate a lot this morning,' Nathan remarked, peering into the closet and flushing it. It was remarkable that the closets in the ship flushed. She wondered where the waste would go. After all, it had not been much time since flushing closets had come in the market.
'Neither did I. I think last night's dinner is in there too.' Eleanor removed her gloves and rubbed her mouth. Her hand came away covered in yellow and orange. She twisted her face into a grimace and Nathan laughed. 'Are you disgusted by your own vomit?' he asked.
'I am disgusted by anything that is disgusting. Be it mine or yours,' she said, getting up from her place on the floor.
'Here,' Nathan said, handing her a handkerchief. Eleanor took it gratefully and wiped her mouth and hands with it before turning to the sink to wash away any remnants of vomit on her face.
She attempted to smooth down the green silk of her gown although it was of no use. It was absolutely rumpled from her sprawl on the floor.
'Eleanor, why don't you change and meet me for lunch?' Nathan said. 'I shall go down and reserve a table for us.'
