“Thank you.”
Chris gave his shoulder a squeeze before heading out at a run. Max relaxed a bit. He desperately wanted to rush home and find out what had happened to Yihui, but he knew his duty to his title and his father. His place was right here for all that he still wanted to rage at the duke for causing this disaster in the first place. Instead, he watched with a grim expression as Dr. Carter completed his business.
In the end, the doctor rocked back on his heels. “If I could have a word, my lord?” he said to Max.
Max shook his head. His father was awake and calmer now. He would want to hear the diagnosis himself. “Speak to the patient, please. I will listen as well.”
“Very well. Your Grace, I’m sure you have guessed the truth. You have suffered an apoplexy. Fortunately, it has not compromised your breathing nor your heart. I believe whatever hope of recovery you have will be in complete rest.” He glanced at the nearest footman. “A room shall be made for you here, and a litter can carry—”
“No.” The duke’s one word was clear to all of them.
Max sighed. As far as he could tell, his father’s faculties were not impaired. The duke had guessed what had happenedfrom the very beginning and stated his desire to rest at home. Certainly, he could override his father, but he saw no reason to do so out of spite.
“We will take him home. Dr. Carter, if you would accompany us and see to my father’s well-being, I would very much appreciate your efforts.”
The man flashed a warm grin. “Of course, my lord. I am at your service.”
He saw his father’s grimace but didn’t care. Max had lost faith in Dr. Morton’s skills a long time ago.
The business of transferring his father took time. The duke was warned against any type of movement and so he lay on the floor and tried to glower everyone into doing his bidding. And for the first time in both their lives, people turned to Max for direction instead of his father. Certainly, they smiled at the duke, they expressed their condolences and hope for a speedy recovery, but they treated him as a lesser man in all aspects, deferring to Max for any decision.
It was jarring to go from second place to first all in the matter of minutes. And though Max managed to get everything arranged, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had just changed irrevocably for the worse.
Unless his father made a full recovery—and he had never heard of a man who did so after an apoplexy—then Max would very rapidly have to take over the running of things. Any dream of going to China was at an end, not to mention diplomatic trips, once the war was over. He would have to take the reins of their vast ducal lands. He’d been begging for this responsibility for years, but his father had been unwilling to relinquish the tiniest amount of control. Now he would have to do it completely.
The idea should have filled Max with satisfaction. Instead, his spirits dropped lower with every moment that he sat beside his father and worried.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Christopher ran downthe street, grateful for something useful to do. His own father had been a drunken wastrel who did the world a favor when he passed out in a ditch, caught an ague, and conveniently expired soon after he was discovered the next day. Max’s father had been a towering pillar of conservative values and rigid authority. He never bent, never compromised, and never released control once it was in his iron grip.
To see the duke topple like that, cut off mid-rant, was like seeing a foundational part of his world falter. To be sure, he and Max both had railed against the man, despised and defamed him as often as possible. But somehow, they’d never grappled with the reality of their archnemesis crumpling into himself.
It shook Christopher in ways he couldn’t measure. And the thought of what it must be doing to Max horrified him.
So Chris was grateful to be sent on a useful task. He didn’t bother with a hackney in the usual way. Waiting for one to come around would be a waste of time. Instead, he ran in the right direction then hopped gingerly onto the back of the nearest one already going toward Grosvenor Square. He was too large a man to do this without getting noticed. Normally, such a thing was for boys who had no coin for travel. But he kept his head down and leapt off the moment the coachman thought to object.
He was fortunate in his choice of hackneys and so was able to rush with relative speed straight up the steps of Max’s home. He banged the knocker as hard as he could, steadying his breath toappear at least partially in control. And then was confused when no one answered.
What the devil? The house was lit with candles in the front parlor and the upper bedrooms. He noted that Emmaline’s bedroom was dark, so she was probably in the back room reading. Still, someone should have answered the door by now. Chiverton was a prig, but he knew his job.
Christopher banged again and was relieved when a muffled voice responded.
“Coming. Jes’ a moment.”
He waited, anxious at the time. Finally, the door was pulled open by… the cook? “Mr. Gaudreau?” He looked over the man’s shoulder to the empty foyer. “Someone is coming for Miss Wong and—”
“Yes, yes! We know!”
Oh bloody hell. He was too late. “What happened? Where’s Chiverton?”
“Chiverton has been sent packing and everyone else is looking for his lordship. I’ve made tea for Lady Emmaline, but…” He shook his head. “It was very bad, my lord. Very bad indeed.”
“His lordship is on his way here. Both of them.”
Mr. Gaudreau’s expression brightened. “Oh good. You have found him—”
“Not good. The duke has taken ill. His room must be made ready. Someone must send for his valet who has been at his club.” He frowned. “Where is Chiverton?”
