He nodded, the dread rising within him along with the fear. It was the same sickening churn of emotions that had consumed him when Hattie had passed. She had been ill for days, ravaged by a cough, delirious with fever, and he had known on the final day. That sense of loss was just as vivid now. Just as choking. As mocking. As terrible.
He scarcely took note of the domestic excusing himself so he could see to the sudden preparations for travel. Raking a shaking hand through his hair, he attempted to bring air into his lungs, but it would not come. His chest ached. His heart galloped. He broke into a cold sweat, his fingertips tingling.
Not now, he denied inwardly, railing against himself for this weakness.
He could not afford to suffer one of his fits now, not when Verity needed him. They no longer happened nearly as often as they had in the days after Hattie’s death. By now, he only suffered them every few months.
But one was taking him, and though he tried to gulp breaths, he could not. Could not move. Could not speak.
Verity. His sweet little girl with her round cherub’s face and sparkling green eyes and her undeniable resemblance to Hattie. She was all he had left. God, what if something had happened to her? What if she was trapped somewhere now, alone, flames coming for her?
Through the haze of panic attacking him, a calm, familiar voice comforted. Arms came around him. A hand passed over his back in soothing strokes.
“You will find her,” promised the husky voice of an angel. “As soon as the carriage is ready, you will go to her, and you will find her, and she will be safe.”
Only, the angel was no angel at all. She was the last woman he could trust.
None of that mattered when she took him in her rose-scented embrace and wrapped her arms around him. The terror clawing at him from the inside out lessened. His heart slowed down.
“Breathe, Felix,” she said. “I am here. Your daughter will be safe. Just breathe.”
And somehow, he was holding her back in a tight embrace, this woman of so many faces and roles, this stranger, and his face was buried in the silken cloud of her hair. He inhaled slowly, then exhaled, hoping she was right.
The panic slowly subsided to a dull ebb.
By the time his butler returned to announce the carriage awaited him, he was calmed sufficiently enough that he could function. But though he could not explain why, he knew he still needed Johanna at his side. He wanted her there. He clasped her hand in his.
“Come with me,” he said, the words an anguished plea, but he did not care. There was no room for pride in this moment, and he needed to stay strong for his daughter’s sake.
Johanna did not hesitate. She gave a single nod. “Let’s go.”
Johanna sat byFelix’s side in his carriage, just as they had the day before. But unlike their luncheon ride to Markham’s Hotel, there was no levity or passion between them. There was only desperation and fear. She had never seen a man look graver than the Duke of Winchelsea did as the carriage swayed through the howling wind and battering rains, rumbling over slick roads as they made their way toward his home.
His true home, a place he had never invited her to.
But she would not dwell upon that distinction now.
Because his daughter was in grave danger. And if they did not find her before it was too late…
No.She would not allow herself to entertain such an unthinkable notion.
“You will find her,” she reassured him, the words spoken as much for his benefit as for hers.
The change that had come over him earlier had been terrifying, as if he had been struck a fatal blow as he struggled for breath. The shock of the news had rattled him badly, and understandably so. He had already lost a wife. He could not bear to lose a daughter as well.
Once more, they were drawn together by the commonality—they were both parents, both people who had loved and lost. And she wanted with all her heart for his daughter to be safe.
He squeezed her fingers, his grip almost painful. “Thank you.”
“Everything will be well. Have faith, Felix.”
Of course, having faith in the face of life and death was not always effortless, particularly when death could come so easily. So suddenly. But if there was any way she could bring him peace, help to calm him as they bolted through the night to find his daughter, she would gladly do it.
“If anything happens to her…”
“Nothing will,” she insisted, though she, too, battled the rising fear within.
The butler had said there had been an explosion. Likely, it would have been caused by a faulty gas line. However, the word had triggered a reaction in Johanna as well. For she knew what her brother had been planning in London. She had the evidence of it hiding in a trunk back at her hotel.
