“Grandpapa?” The marquess was there suddenly, minus the glasses he had been carrying, crouched before his grandfather’s chair and holding him firmly by both shoulders.
The old man’s face had turned gray, Philippa saw. His eyes were closed. His gasps had taken on a rasping sound. She looked around frantically for help. Sir Gerald Emmett was hurrying toward them. So was Lady Catherine. Bright conversations were being replaced throughout the room with concerned murmurings. The dancerswho had already taken their places on the floor had turned, wide-eyed, to watch the drama.
“Is he...?” There was a quaver now in the duchess’s voice.
Philippa squeezed her arm but then got to her feet to move to the duchess’s other side and make room for Sir Gerald.
The marquess had torn off the duke’s neckcloth and collar and opened his shirt at the neck. Lady Catherine was plying her fan before his face.
“Here, Gerald,” the marquess said. “Help me get him out of here so he can get some air.”
“Would someone please have the Duke of Wilby’s carriage brought up to the doors?” Sir Gerald said, raising his voice.
Nicholas, Philippa could see, was wheeling Jenny in her chair across the floor.
They lifted him between them, the marquess and Sir Gerald, and Philippa stepped in behind them to hold his head and stop it from tipping back too far. He was still gasping for air. His eyelids were fluttering.
“If you will tell me who his physician is, Roath, and where he is to be found, I will fetch him to Arden House without delay,” a crisp voice said. It was Devlin’s.
The marquess told him, and the Duke of Wilby was carried out while everyone in the assembly rooms made a path for him and watched in silent concern.
“We ought to have summoned a physician to Almack’s,” Lady Catherine said when they were all huddled outside the doors while a few of the guests who had come out ahead of them were beckoning the two carriages that were approaching. “We ought not to be moving him.”
“My main concern was to get him outside, Aunt Kitty,” the marquess said. “The air is fresh out here. How is Grandmama?”
“I have her,” Lady Catherine said. “Set him down for a moment, Gerald. Dr.Arnold really ought to be cominghere.”
But the fresh air seemed to have revived the duke somewhat.
“Take me home,” he said. “May?”
“I am here, Percy,” the duchess said. “And a precious fright you are giving me.”
“I suppose I made a precious spectacle of myself in there too,” he said, and gasped in some air.
“Stop talking, Grandpapa,” the marquess said. “Gerald and I are going to lift you into the carriage. Just let us do the work. Thank you, Lady Philippa. I will take his head and shoulders now.”
Philippa stepped back and pressed the fingers of both hands to her mouth. In the light of a lantern someone was holding aloft, the Duke of Wilby looked ghastly indeed. She watched his grandsons maneuver him into the carriage and lay him along one of the seats. Lady Catherine helped her mother in after them.
“I will follow with Jenny, Mama,” she said.
The coachman was about to shut the door.
“Wait a moment,” the duchess said, holding up one hand. “Whatis that you are saying, Percy? Ah. Lady Philippa, you are to come with Kitty and Jenny, if you will be so good.”
And the door slammed, the coachman vaulted up to the box with unexpected agility, and the horses moved off at a trot.
“I really think I ought not,” Philippa said, turning to Lady Catherine.
“A ducal decree,” she said. She was looking very distressed. “Which you have every right to ignore. But please come. I believe Jenny needs you.”
Jenny, sitting silently in her chair with Nicholas standing behind her, was looking almost as ghastly as her grandfather.
“Please, Pippa?” she said.
The burly footman who always lifted her from place to place and conveyed her chair whenever she was going to need it came striding toward them at that moment. The second carriage had moved forward and the door had been opened and the steps set down.
“I’ll hold the chair steady while you lift her in,” Nicholas said. “What shall I do with—”
