Chapter One
“What’s happened?” LadyAmelia Clark cried as she rushed up the stairs.
“He took a fall,” Graham Blakewood said.
Despite her frantic racing, Mr. Blakewood continued to march steadily behind her.
Amelia spun around. “This is your fault. I told you not to let him ride that devil of a horse. I should shoot that mad beast myself.”
He paused two steps below her, their gazes level, and said, “He wasn’t on Titan. He took your words to heart.”
Amelia’s heart tumbled around like a pebble caught in an avalanche. Her bottom lip shook, and she bit down to hold the bloody traitor still. Mr. Blakewood stared back at her, calm and resolute, his gray-green eyes filled with worry, his auburn hair tousled like he’d been grabbing it in fistfuls.
Her twin brother Sam, the Earl of Alston, the only sibling she had—and the only family she had left besides her aunt and wasteful cousin on her father’s side—lay abed upstairs. She would not waste a second being a foolish, simpering girl during his last moments. For that was what Mr. Blakewood’s eyes said. He wouldn’t be worried if there weren’t something toworry about. The man was as immovable as a mountain and as emotional as a marble bust. But at this moment, he’d let go of his control enough for her to see the man under the marble.
His worry was the cold breath of Death on the back of her neck.
Amelia spun, losing her balance, and a hand caught her on her lower back, gently shoving her forward. She caught her step and resumed her climb to her brother’s bedside. She opened the door to Sam’s room, her heart stopping as the doctor backed away from the still, pale form on the bed.
A wail burst from her lips as she ran forward to cling to her brother, the other half of herself.
The doctor approached. “Lady Amelia, I must insist you remain calm, or you will be removed from the room. Your brother has sustained a grave injury and must remain absolutely still.”
But Amelia could hardly hear him beyond her own cries of anguish. That is, until her brother’s eyes opened. She went limp. If not for Mr. Blakewood’s swift catch, she’d have collapsed on the floor.
“Sam?” she cried hoarsely.
“Amelia . . . I see you.”
Mr. Blakewood’s hold eased, but oddly, it was Amelia who did not want to let go of his sturdy support. She forced herself to release her grip on his thick arms.
“Sam, what on earth did you do?”
“Carson stepped in a hole,” Sam said with a wince. “Poor Graham had to put him down. The break was too bad.”
“And what of you? Did he shoot you as well?”
Amelia heard Mr. Blakewood’s huff of annoyance. He hated her humor. Far too serious a man, dull, and prone to lectures about duty and honor, which is why she chafed in his presence.But he was good for Sam. He connected with Sam in a way that other gentlemen Sam’s age could not.
Sam chuckled softly. Her heart eased into a calmer rhythm now that he seemed to be at least able to laugh. He couldn’t be dying if he could laugh, could he? She stepped closer with Mr. Blakewood on her heels, as if she were a danger to her brother. Amelia ignored the looming giant and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her brother’s hand.
“What is your condition?”
The doctor stood on Sam’s other side. He cleared his throat. “There is some internal injury, Lady Amelia. Lord Alston is in dire health. You should summon family and Lord Alston’s man of business.”
Amelia stiffened. “That won’t be necessary.”
Dr. Bradley frowned. “My lady . . .”
“Just say it, Bradley,” Sam said.
Amelia shook her head. Already knowing what he would say. “No.”
“His demise could be imminent,” Dr. Bradley said. “Every second is a gift.”
Amelia swayed where she sat. A hand touched her shoulder. Steadying her. For one heart-wrenching second, Amelia considered turning and leaning into Mr. Blakewood’s hold. He might be a cold statue, but at least he had the strength to hold her when Sam could not. Sam was all she had in the world. He was the only person who understood her and accepted her as she was, who fought for her, who stood by her through everything. Including when she was wrong.
Amelia pinched her eyes closed. Tears pressed against her lashes, hot enough to scald. A sob caught in her throat, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think.
