Sophie jumped. “Go?” Her eyes were wide. She’d known, of course, that she and Patrick would leave the ball together. For heaven’s sake, her trunks had been hauled out that very morning, and if her maid had overcome her fear of the water, she was already tucked onboard the Lark. Because, as Patrick had explained with a wicked grin, the boat was likely to sail at a very early hour, before they would want to be out of bed.

But somehow Sophie hadn’t pictured actually leaving the ball. Getting into a carriage, alone with Patrick. Getting into a bed!

“Oh, we can’t go yet,” she said hastily. “I’ve barely spoken a word to your uncle.” She twitched her hip away from her grinning husband and moved over to the bishop. He was talking busily to Charlotte.

“Since being on this new regimen, I have looked extremely well, and I think you’ll agree that I have a most agreeable color in my face. Doctor Read allows me only one cup of chocolate a day, plain water gruel three times a day, and a roasted apple, to be eaten one hour before dinner.”

Sophie’s mind was filled with electrifying pictures of what Patrick planned to do once they were alone.

The bishop smiled graciously at her. “Please do inform me if you have any questions about my diet, my dear,” he said. “I must tell you that Doctor Read is becoming quite famous for the ingenuity of his prescriptions!”

“Ah …” Sophie couldn’t think of anything to ask. She was all too aware of Patrick’s warm body behind hers. “What sort of apple do you eat, sir?” A hand seemed to be playing with the curls at the nape of her neck.

“A very good question, my dear! I prefer the apple to be a golden runnet. I have instructed my man to roast the apple on a clean brick, washed with spring water.”

Patrick’s deep voice intervened. “Uncle Richard, I fancy you will have to excuse my bride and myself. It is time for us to board.”

“Board? Board ship?” Richard looked nauseated. “Don’t tell me that you are taking that poor child onto the high seas?”

“We’re taking a short trip down the coast, Uncle Richard.”

“Close to land, I trust. Very nice. Still, any lady at sea must feel like a duck out of water. I expect you will be as sick as a horse the whole way there. Try the apple, m’dear,” he said comfortingly to Sophie. “Send out for some golden runnets, tonight, before you leave. Patrick! You must obtain some golden runnets first thing in the morning. Don’t forget to send someone out.”

Patrick met his brother’s laughing eyes over the head of his portly uncle.

“I will, Uncle Richard,” he replied gravely. “I am sure that Sophie’s stomach will be much soothed by a roasted apple.”