Free Web NovelChapter 41: Of Questionable Illnesses and Betraying Stomachs
Chapter 40: Of Questionable Illnesses and Betraying Stomachs
Lyria’s POV
"What?"
The word escaped me before I could stop it.
For a single dreadful heartbeat, I feared the sharpness of it had betrayed me.
But the Duke did not appear offended. If anything, he looked more concerned.
"Your voice," he said gently, as though explaining something very obvious to a stubborn child. "It sounds rather strained."
He tilted his head slightly as he studied me.
"I was merely wondering if you had taken ill."
A slow knot of unease formed in my stomach.
"I a-assure you, Your Grace," I said carefully, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the stone floor between his boots, "I-I have no c-cold."
The Duke did not immediately respond.
Instead, I heard the faint shift of his coat as he straightened. Then he turned his head toward the Earl, who was still standing, watching the interaction.
"Lord Hawthorne," he said thoughtfully, "tell me something."
There was the quiet rustle of cloth as the Earl adjusted his stance.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"Am I the only one who noticed?" the Duke asked.
There was a small pause after his words.
I could feel their attention hovering over me like a weight pressing against the back of my neck.
The Earl spoke slowly.
"I am afraid I do not understand what Your Grace is referring to."
The Duke gave a short hum.
"Well," he said, as though mildly surprised, "that is rather unfortunate."
There was a small movement, and I risked the faintest glance upward.
The Duke had lifted one gloved hand. And he was pointing directly at me.
"She," he said plainly.
Making my stomach drop.
"She is speaking rather strangely," he said.
The Earl was silent as the Duke continued.
"It sounds very much," he added with thoughtful seriousness, "as though she has a rather unfortunate cold."
His tone grew slightly more reflective.
"One severe enough, I should think, to have affected her voice."
For a moment the Earl said nothing.
Then I heard the faint shift of his boots against the stone.
"Now that Your Grace mentions it..." Lord Hawthorne said slowly, like he had just gotten the enlightenment. "...I believe you may be correct."
I swallowed.
The Earl continued thoughtfully.
"Yes. There is indeed a certain... roughness to it. One I have not heard from any female I am well acquainted with."
The Duke made a small sound of satisfaction.
"Finally," he said.
Lord Hawthorne gave a low hum.
"It does rather resemble the sort of voice one develops when suffering from a particularly disagreeable cold."
The Duke nodded.
"Precisely."
My heart began to pound harder at their words.
The Duke’s attention returned to me with renewed enthusiasm.
"You see?" he said pleasantly. "Lord Hawthorne hears it as well."
He stepped a fraction closer.
I instinctively leaned back again.
"You truly need not pretend otherwise," he added kindly. "If you are unwell, it would hardly be proper for you to remain here."
My pulse skipped.
"Working in the stables," he continued thoughtfully, glancing around the space, "would almost certainly worsen such a condition."
His gaze returned to me.
"I am quite certain the people responsible for your duties would release you if they knew you were ill."
I cleared my throat.
"I-I am not i-ill, Your G-grace."
The words came out slightly rougher than intended.
The Duke frowned faintly.
"You are quite certain?" he asked me.
"Y-yes, Your Grace."
A small silence stretched between us.
Then the Duke folded his arms slowly.
"Well," he said at last, "that is certainly surprising."
"And why," he continued thoughtfully, "is that?"
I hesitated.
Because if I did not say something soon, they would continue asking questions.
And the longer they stood here, the greater the chance that something else might betray me.
So I forced my mind to produce an explanation.
"I-It is not a cold, Your Grace," I said quietly.
"Oh?"
"It is... a-a-a t-throat condition."
The Duke blinked in shock.
"A throat condition," the Duke repeated.
"Y-yes, Your Grace."
"And this condition," he continued, his tone growing more interested by the second, "causes your voice to sound as though you have swallowed a handful of gravel?"
My ears burned.
"It makes it s-somewhat... huskier than it o-ought to be," I admitted carefully.
The Duke raised one eyebrow.
"Does it indeed?"
I nodded once.
Silence descended at that point. Then the Duke turned slowly toward Lord Hawthorne.
"Well," he said mildly, "that is certainly a new one."
Lord Hawthorne crossed his arms. His voice carried a note of quiet curiosity.
"I cannot say I have heard of such an ailment."
"Nor can I," the Duke agreed.
He turned back to me.
"What precisely is this illness called?"
I froze.
Because I had not thought that far ahead. My mind scrambled uselessly.
"I-it is... rather r-r-rare," I said weakly.
The Duke leaned forward slightly.
"Rare?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"How fascinating."
The Duke tilted his head again, studying me like an interesting puzzle.
"And you believe I may not have heard of it?"
I nodded.
"I b-believe that is likely, Y-your Grace."
His lips curved faintly.
"Well now," he murmured, "that is rather unfortunate."
He did not sound convinced, not even a little.
He opened his mouth to speak again.
And I braced myself for another question I would not be able to answer, or one I would have to come up with a quick lie for.
But before he could speak—
My stomach growled... loudly too.
Heat rushed violently to my face. I could feel it spreading from my ears down to my throat.
I wished—very sincerely—that the floor might open and swallow me whole.
The Duke blinked. Then his mouth slowly curved upward.
And he laughed. I had to admit, it was quite a nice sound to be heard.
"Ah," he said lightly.
Lord Hawthorne made a small sound that might have been a suppressed chuckle.
The Duke glanced thoughtfully at my stomach.
Then back at my face.
"I wonder," he said with exaggerated seriousness, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Could it be," he continued, clearly enjoying himself far too much, "that this mysterious illness affecting your voice..."
His eyes glinted.
"...also appears to affect your stomach?"
I wished I could disappear.
"Specifically," the Duke added helpfully, "in the form of hunger."
