“Hmm. That could be dangerous.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What would you like to know?”
She curled her toes into the carpet. It wasn’t too late to back out. She could come up with a different query.
And yet she forged ahead. “Are you intending to pursue Miss Woolsey as your bride?”
He laughed, a merry sound in the dark, if not a little bitter. “Does she not seem like quite the right partner for me either?”
Ami shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Who do you think I should marry, then?”
Me.
Egad! Where had that bold thought come from?
Banishing the impetuous musings, she tossed back her shoulders. “I think you must find someone who is kind yet not soft as pudding, for I don’t think you’d admire a spineless woman. You need a lady able to keep your keen mind engaged. The future Mrs. Price should be a champion of your ambitions while also holding tightly to her own, for you wouldn’t esteem a wife who is a mere shadow of yourself. And of course, you must marry someone full of surprises, for you have intrigues of your own.”
“Again, add in beautiful, and you’ve once more described yourself.” The words traveled on a husky breath, the gleam in his eyes suddenly primal.
Her hands flew to her cheeks. “I never meant to insinuate such a thing.”
“What if I did?” He stepped closer, and once more they stood nose to nose in the night. “I know I don’t compare to a cloth-wrapped corpse, but could you—wouldyou—consider a man such as me to spend the rest of your life with?”
Was he jesting? In a heartbeat she would! But was he truly offering, or was this just a game to him? Her jaw stiffened.“I would turn that question back to you, Mr. Price. I am no socialite.”
“No, there is so much more to you than that.”
The heat of his gaze. The subject they danced around. This was perilous ground, far more daunting than a back-alley deal gone bad.
Footsteps raced up the stairs. They turned in unison as Barnaby dashed toward them.
“Sir,” the butler puffed. “A doctor must be sent for at once.”
“Why?” Edmund stepped away from her, angling a bit, as if his body could block her from whatever ill tidings Barnaby carried. “What’s happened?”
“Two of the staff members have fallen ill.” Even in the dim light the distinct bob of the butler’s Adam’s apple could be seen. “Deathlyill.”
17
“Quarantine. Preferably in a separate building. Trust me, it’s the only way. You do not want to see this spread.”
Dr. Greenwood’s diagnosis was a brick to Edmund’s head, driving away the final sweet memories of holding Ami in his arms last night. He pressed his fingers against his temple, where a throbbing pain started, the walls of the study closing in on him. “Are you certain it’s influenza?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve given your housekeeper instructions until I stop back later this evening. In the meantime, I suggest you go on holiday. Even with the quarantine, anyone staying beneath this roof runs the risk of contracting the illness.” He collected the medical bag near his feet. “Good day, Mr. Price.”
Edmund rounded the desk to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you, Doctor. Oh, and let’s keep this information out of the public eye. I don’t wish to alarm the neighbours.”
“Naturally.” Greenwood sniffed. “Panic is never good for the community.”
Edmund let out a long breath as the doctor departed, devising what to say so as not to cause a fright amongst his guests or staff. Barnaby would remain level-headed, as would his housekeeper, but there was no guaranteeing how everyone else mightreact. What an untimely disaster. He glanced at the ceiling, his heart looking far beyond the plaster.
Merciful God, spare the lives of my two maids and grant the illness be stopped. This is beyond my control—and You alone know how I loathe such a weakness. I have been here before ... please do not let me fail this time.
Horrid memories of the ’86 cholera outbreak crowded in, upping the pounding in his head. So many lives lost. So many that could have been saved if he’d stood up to Colonel McDonnough and forced him to isolate the sick.
He yanked the bell cord harder than necessary. Clearing his throat several times over from a scratchiness that had taken root, he paced the rug until Barnaby poked his head in the door.
“Yes, sir?”
