“Aren’t ye feelin’ well, miss?” “Oh, yes, very fine,” Cerynise readily assured him, unwilling to confess her inability to sleep during the night and elicit questions that she’d prefer not to answer. “I feel better than I have in some days now.” “Then might ye be likin’ some other kind o’ vittles?” Cerynise smiled and shook her head. Billy was being very thoughtful and going out of his way to see to her comfort, no doubt on the captain’s orders. “I’m just not hungry this morning, that’s all.” “Mr. Monét does it up fine, as ye can see, miss, but if there be anything else ye’d rather have, I’d only be too glad ta fetch it for ye.” Cerynise was put to task to imagine what else could have tempted her pallet more than the meal he had brought, for it had looked even more delectable than her first sampling of Philippe’s extraordinary cuisine. But the reason for Beau’s departure had remained obscure to her during a restless night of tossing and turning, and she hadn’t felt at all like eating when her every thought was fraught with worry that her presence aboard ship had somehow motivated him to seek lodging elsewhere.
