Roxton stepped around her, "What's the matter?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing, it's just that the light was to bright is all," she lied again. She had a feeling she would be doing a lot of it in the near future.
"Rev. Jones, this is Miss…" Roxton began.
"Marguerite Krux, lovely heiress of the very sizable Krux estate. I've heard so much about you," Jones interrupted, striding across the room and kissing her hand. Marguerite's stomach lurched when he looked up at her.
"That may not be a good thing," Ned teased from the safety of the other side of the room. To his surprise, she said nothing to either man. She simply stepped around the Reverend and went to the table with a very tired look on her face.
The rest of the group followed suit, quietly taking their seats. Marguerite reached for a roll and began to pick at it half-heartedly.
"Miss Krux, we must say grace before we eat," Jones chastised her. She threw the bread on her plate in disgust, much to the astonishment of her friends.
"Will you lead us Reverend?" she dripped out mockingly. This was a game they had played before, but this time, she had no idea what he was after.
Marguerite was uncharacteristically silent throughout supper, while the good Reverend talked endlessly. He brought news of loved ones to all the explorers, save "Margie," as he started calling Marguerite.
Sommerlee was well and happy, trying to organize rescues. Roxton's mother was well and adored Sommerlee for all the stories he told of how her baby had saved their lives. Challenger's wife attended fundraisers for the expedition rescue efforts, but was convinced that he was having the time of his life, and Ned's paper published articles on the rescue attempts regularly. Unfortunately, Gladys was now married to a Manhattan publisher's son, but Ned didn't seem too heartbroken.
Every time Jones called Marguerite "Margie" everyone waited for the outburst that should have followed, all knowing how she hated nicknames. Roxton had once called her the same name, meant as an endearment, and was completely caught off guard by the boot that nailed him in the back of the head.
About halfway through the meal Roxton noticed that Marguerite looked a bit green and that no more than half of her roll was gone. He was about to ask her if she was all right when she jumped up from the table and ran to the balcony, just out of view of the diners. They could, however, hear her expel the contents of her stomach over the side. As Roxton got up to check on her no one noticed the satisfied smirk on Jones' face. Serves her right for thinking she could get away from me.
"I hope she is all right," he feigned concern.
"I'm sure she is fine," Veronica reassured their guest. "I'll just make some tea to settle her stomach, and then I'm sure she'll go to bed." She then excused herself to boil some water.
Marguerite slumped forward over the railing, feeling utterly humiliated. She always reacted this way when he made an appearance in her life, expected or not.
She wasn't surprised when Roxton leaned on the rail next to her. She used her sleeve to wipe her face, still feeling queasy. "You OK?" he asked, studying her face.
"I'm fine, I must have picked up a bug somewhere. I'll just sit out here for a while and get some fresh air."
"I'll join you," he stated matter-of-factly.
"No, that won't be necessary."
He eyed her suspiciously, but conceded, he felt bad for making her get up when she didn't feel well. "All right, but wrap up in this blanket so you don't catch a chill as well, and it sounds like Veronica is making some of her lavender tea for you. I'll bring it out when it ready."
She gave him a weak, but grateful smile as she sat in the lounge chair and he tucked the blanket around her. Then he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "You're acting like an old mother hen," she chided playfully.
"It's good practice," he winked at her as he turned to go join the others.
"Is she alright?" Challenger asked.
"She'll be fine, she has had a really long day, huh Malone?" They both smiled at the memory of her covered head to toe in mud. "She probably has a cold or something."
The breeze was cool, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. She sat with her face to the wind, taking deep breaths. Moments later Roxton returned with cup of tea, which Marguerite eagerly took. After a sip she raised an eyebrow to her companion.
"I snuck in some scotch when Veronica wasn't looking, I thought it might help you sleep.
"Thanks, and I promise not to tell. I'll be inside in a minute."
"Nope, not until I see you drink every last drop." Roxton sat directly in front of her. She smiled at his coddling, then blew on the concoction and downed it like a shot.
"All done. Now go finish your supper," she ordered teasingly.
"Now who is the mother hen?"
As soon as he was gone she began to feel the effects of the liquor-laced tea, slowing her mind enough for her to relax. Slowly, against her will, she fell into a fitful slumber.
Half an hour later everyone began retiring for the evening. Roxton went to check on "Margie" and found her curled up in the seat. He gently lifted her up, cradling her head in the crook of his neck.
As he laid her on her bed and tucked her in he heard her mumble something that sounded like "leave me alone," and wondered what she could be dreaming about.
James Jones peeked through the crack in the door of Prof. Sommerlee's old room and frowned. Lord John Roxton could complicate things. He thought he had taken care of Marguerite's tendency of making emotional attachments in Shanghai.
Warning, the next chapter will be dealing with a serious issue.
