Inside, the air smelled of medicinal tinctures, the cloying sweetness of laudanum, and the pervasive undertone of illness clinging to the ancient stone walls. A nurse in uniform greeted them just inside the door. Before Nathaniel could speak, she nodded toward the corridor ahead.
"He's already here," she said. "The Duke of Winterset. A physician is with him now."
They moved quickly down the hall. Another nurse stepped aside as they reached a small receiving room.
Jasper stood inside—pale and visibly shaken. His coat had been discarded, his cravat loosened, and his hair slightly mussed, as though he'd run his hands through it a dozen times. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands trembled faintly.
A physician was speaking in low tones.
Jasper turned as they entered.
"She's alive," he said at once. "Still unconscious, but alive."
Nathaniel crossed to him at once and gripped his shoulder.
"What happened?" Grace asked, her voice trembling.
"The carriage overturned near Grosvenor Square after one of the horses took fright," the physician said soberly. "Her Grace was thrown hard against the door before the coach toppled. Shehas a broken collarbone, two cracked ribs, and a cut just above her temple. But it's the blow to her head that concerns us most. She has not yet regained consciousness, and we cannot know the full extent until she wakes."
"And when might that be?" Nathaniel asked hoarsely.
The man shook his head. "Hours. Or days. There's no way to say."
Grace sank slowly into a nearby chair, her fingers trembling in her lap.
"She was alone," Jasper whispered. "She didn't even want to go. I sent her—"
"You sent her because she needed rest," Nathaniel said firmly. "It was the right thing."
Just then, the door creaked open. A nurse appeared.
"She's been moved to a quieter ward," the nurse said with care. "His Grace may keep her company now, if he wishes. When Her Grace comes to, it's likely you'll be able to see her."
Jasper straightened at once.
"We'll stay," Grace said quietly. "As long as you need."
Jasper nodded slowly. His eyes looked hollow, but there was a determined set to his jaw now.
"She'll want to see you both when she wakes," he said softly. "I'll return soon to tell you how she is. If they'll permit it, perhaps you can visit then."
They watched him follow the nurse down the darkened corridor, vanishing into the hush of the long ward.
Nathaniel and Grace, the Duke and Duchess of Everly, remained seated in silence, the weight of the world pressing on their shoulders.
Abigail was so very loved. To know her was to love her. She was kind and warm and strong—and in recent weeks, she'd begun to smile again. Laugh again. The shadows that had haunted her had begun to lift under Jasper's quiet tenderness.
And now she lay broken.
They could not imagine a world without her in it.
They bowed their heads in the flickering candlelight, their prayers silent but fervent pleading that when Abigail awoke, she would still be herself.
Unharmed. Unshaken. Whole.
Chapter 45
The door creaked softly as Jasper followed the nurse into the bedchamber.
