Page 27 of Taming a Beastly Duke
Mr. Morrison nodded, his brow furrowing as he moved to press firmly on Marcus’s stomach.
“Has anyone in your family ever had such an illness?” he asked.
Marcus chuckled dryly, shaking his head.
“You have been our physician for many years,” he said. “You would know if they had.”
The physician nodded, smiling meekly.
“Of course, Your Grace,” he said. “Forgive me. It is a question I ask so often that I do not always think.”
Marcus nodded, realizing the bite in his remark.
“No, forgive me, Mr. Morrison,” he said. “I should not snarl at you. You are here to help, after all.”
The physician shook his head, his expression kind and understanding.
“Any man in your position would do the same,” he said. “Now, can you identify a pattern to these spells? Are there certain times during which you notice the episodes beginning or worsening each day?”
Marcus started to shake his head in denial about the question. But he paused with his head turned as something new occurred to him.
“Until today, feeling lightheaded seemed marginally less upon first waking in the mornings,” he said. “But they seem to be at their worst after meals.”
The physician looked up from his examination with widened eyes. He studied Marcus for a moment, touching the duke’s forehead with a gentle hand.
“There is no fever,” he murmured. “That rules out many illnesses. Have you eaten any foods that might have been spoiled?”
Marcus looked at the physician as though he had taken leave of his senses.
“Of course not,” he said sharply. Then, realizing the mistake he was about to repeat, he cleared his throat and started again. “No. I ensure that all perishable supplies, especially food, are disposed of before they can spoil.”
The physician nodded again, his concern growing.
“I was worried you might say that,” he said.
Marcus frowned, shaking his head.
“Why?” he asked.
Mr. Morrison looked at Marcus with a concern that made him very uneasy.
“It seems that you are ingesting something which is making you ill,” he said. “If spoiled food were responsible, it would be as simple as giving you some medicine to purge any vile humours in your stomach. However, if it is not…” the physician trailed off, chewing his lower lip. “Have you been introduced to any new food or drink lately, something that you have never previously had?”
Marcus studied the physician, his disquiet blooming rapidly. He stifled his urge to roar at the kind man again and shook his head slowly.
“None at all,” he said. “Pray, what do you believe to be the cause of my affliction?”
Mr. Morrison was typically a composed, reassuring man. However, his increasing agitation and worried expression gave Marcus the impression that something was upsetting him greatly. What could it be?
***
Edith approached the doorway to the parlor at the same moment that a black blur entered the room. She paused, wondering if her brother had finished with the physician. She peeked inside the room just as the maid called Lucy Potter held up her arms which were full of fresh-cut flowers.
“I thought these might lift your spirits,” she said with a brightness that Edith found discomforting.
Marcus glared at her, rising from his seat with the physician and striding toward her with an enraged expression.
“How can you be so bold as to intrude without being summoned?” he growled. “You should have more sense than to interrupt a private consultation without my permission.”
