“Shall I fetch you some water?” Sybil asked anxiously as Verity continued to cough.
His sister mumbled something unintelligible, her coughing attack interfering with her speech. He gathered she meant yes, and so did Sybil, for she leapt to her feet and bustled across the room to pour water into a tumbler before he could act. Everett patted his sister on the shoulder gently, not certain where she had suffered bruising or burns.
It was such a tremendous relief to see her eyes open.
“Sister,” he said softly, struggling to keep the raw emotion from his voice, which proved difficult indeed.
He was so damned grateful she hadn’t been lost to the flames that had gone on to decimate the orphanage. Grateful, too, to Kingham for his timely intervention. Everett couldn’t have managed to get both Verity and the child to safety on his own, and he knew it.
“Brother,” she croaked, attempting a smile.
“Here you are, dearest,” Sybil said, offering her the tumbler. “Have a sip of water.”
She helped Verity into a semi-sitting position, plumping the pillows at her back. Verity took the water and drank deeply.
“Not too much at once now,” Sybil admonished, a mother hen clucking over her brood.
“Th-thank you,” Verity managed, still hoarse, her smile thin.
“Are you in pain?” he asked, hating seeing her like this.
“Some.” Verity relaxed against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed.
“Perhaps you should take some laudanum, then,” Sybil suggested.
“Where is King?” Verity asked without opening her eyes. “When will I see him?”
Everett and Sybil exchanged a look. Why the devil did she keep asking for King? And why was she referring to him by the nickname traditionally reserved for his inner circle? Yes, King had saved her, but she had been unconscious when he had rescued her from the fire. There was no way for Verity to know that.
“He is no doubt at his home, where he belongs,” Everett said, perhaps a bit too sternly.
Verity made a low sound of pain as she shifted in the bed. “My head. It aches.”
She coughed again, then groaned once more, clearly in a great deal of discomfort thanks to the burns and other injuries she had suffered.
“The coughing isn’t helping, I’m sure.” Sybil frowned, clearly as distressed as he was by Verity’s condition.
“I need him here,” Verity said. “I want to see him.”
“Kingham?” Sybil asked, looking to Everett, her brow furrowed.
“I must see him.” Verity’s eyes were open once more, imploring. “I miss him so very much.”
She clutched at her locket with a bandaged hand.
Now he understoodMaman’s words in the hall. Verity did indeed seem confused, almost as if she were conflating her memories of Lord Leopold with Kingham.
“Fetch her some laudanum, my love,” he told Sybil quietly. “She needs to rest.”
Sybil nodded and moved to the table where a host of medicinal jars and bottles had been left, finding the laudanum that would help ease Verity into sleep and hopefully enable her overburdened mind to begin healing.
“Please, Everett,” Verity persisted. “Promise me you’ll bring him to me.”
“I promise,” he said instantly, thinking that he would bring an army into his town house if it meant that it would help to calm her.
Verity nodded, then winced, her eyelids lowering as if she could scarcely keep them open a moment longer. Sybil brought the bottle of laudanum from the table and slipped a spoonful between his sister’s lips.
“Hush now, darling,” she crooned gently. “You should get some rest so that you may heal. Kingham shall pay you a call in the morning.”
