He leaned over the bed and pressed the backs of his fingers to Celia’s forehead and couldn’t help but smile. He too was helpless against the Hasterton women. Especially this one. Celia’s cool, silken skin pleased him to no end. No fever meant no infection. Elias prayed it stayed that way.
The quietest scratching on the bedroom door drew his attention. After a glance at Celia’s peaceful countenance, he went to the door and cracked it open.
Monty motioned for him to come out and join him in the sitting room.
“What is it?” Elias whispered. “When she awakes, I do not wish her to be alone.” He opened the door wider and straddled the threshold to keep an ear tuned to his precious Celia.
“I have an idea.” Monty’s smug grin reminded Elias of when they were boys, and Monty was about to throw Father into a rage with his antics.
Elias folded his arms and leaned back against the doorframe, keeping an ear perked for any sounds from within. “An idea?” he prompted, almost dreading to hear the answer.
Monty rubbed his hands together as if he had just won a large sum at the tables. “We have a body now.”
“What?” Elias blinked hard, trying to relieve the burning weariness plaguing his eyes and muddling his brain.
“Friedrich wanted to be a peer. I say we let him. He can be the murdered Duke of Hasterton.” Monty’s smug grin became a blinding smile. “And since the poor duke was pummeled and shot by highwaymen while rushing to his mother’s side after learning of the attack on his sister by a nefarious blackguard outside Vauxhall Gardens, having his body laid out for viewing before the burial is out of the question.” He arched both brows, as though so proud he was about to pop. “We can send for a funeral furnisher immediately.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “And pray do not take offense, but I took the liberty of having Henry and Reginald move Friedrich to a spare bedroom. After all, the funeral furnisher would not expect to find the body of a duke down in the root cellar.”
Elias glanced back into the bedroom, eyed Celia long enough to ensure she was still resting peacefully, then quietly stepped fully into the sitting room and closed the door—firmly. He turned to his brother, still trying to process the mad scheme Monty had proposed. “Are you dicked in the nob?” he finally asked.
Monty hung his hands on his lapels as if slightly insulted. “I assure you I am quite sane, and if you think about it, this provides the perfect opportunity to hurry the patent before Parliament. If we propose the amending at the same time that the duke’s death is announced and also ensure that the story of his murder, as well as Lady Cecilia’s terrible attack, is properly spread through theton, the amendment will pass quickly because of sympathy for the duchess and her daughter.”
“And how are we to explain all this not only to the Bow Street Runners but also to Dr. MacMaddenly? The more actors we include in this theatrical scheme, the greater the danger. Might I offer Friedrich’s actions as a case in point?” Elias fixed his brother with a superior look, almost dreading what an extraordinarily illegal and immoral farce Monty might come up with next. Had his sibling always been this devious?
“Let me handle everything,” Monty assured him. “I am thinking the less you know, the better.” He took hold of Elias by the shoulders and aimed him at the bedroom door. “Back to your bride. Hurry, now. You don’t wish her to awaken without you.” He gently nudged his brother forward while easing open the door.
Elias cast a disgruntled look back at Monty, then decided he was too weary to fight it. If his brother believed the scheme would work, then perhaps it would. He was merely thankful Monty was an ally and not an enemy.
A weak “Elias?” made him toss those thoughts aside, and he rushed to Celia.
“My love,” he said, then gently scooped up her hand and kissed it while trying not to jostle her.
She gave him a sleepy smile. “Why do I feel so very heavy and…slow?”
“Dr. MacMaddenly got a generous dose of laudanum down you before you completely blacked out. I am sure it’s the effects of the drug. He said when you awoke, if the pain was too great to bear, you could have more. There is no need for you to suffer any more than you already have.” He pulled his chair as close as he could and sat while still holding her hand. “Do you wish for another dose?”
She eyed him with a sleepy gaze, then the slightest pucker appeared between her brows. “No. I do not care for this feeling at all, and I can bear the pain so far.” She slowly lifted her hand as though to touch her face but stopped partway and stared at the ring on her finger. “Oh my. It is so beautiful,” she said in the softest whisper, then blessed him with a loving smile. “So marrying you wasn’t just a dream?”
“It was not, Mrs. Raines.” He reverently touched the small, round aquamarine gemstone surrounded by tiny pearls in the gold setting. “This was my mother’s ring. Monty said it would bring us luck.”
“I shall properly thank him when next I see him.” She grimaced and shut her eyes tightly while slightly arching her back.
“Celia?” He jumped up and hovered over her, panic thrumming through him.
She eased in a deep breath and, just as carefully, let it ease back out before relaxing back into the pillows. She opened her eyes and looked surprised to see him hanging above her. “A shooting pain caught me off guard, but I think it’s settled now, and I can bear it. Are you always going to be so dramatic?”
“I have the right to show ample concern about my wife.” He settled back onto the edge of his seat, then huffed a disgruntled snort. “Dramatic. Indeed.”
“And now you intend to pout?” She seemed to try a frown, but amusement still sparkled in her eyes. “I do not believe I have seen this side of you before.”
Allowing himself a sheepish grin, he lifted her hand again and hugged it to his cheek. “I was so afraid I had lost you—again.”
“I knew you would come,” she said softly, then looked away. “Deep down, I wondered if I would ever fully trust you again.” She turned back to him and smiled. “I now know that answer, without a doubt.”
He stared at her, struck mute with thankfulness.
“Elias?”
“Yes, my love?”
