“Your Grace?” Fable interrupted. When he turned to her, she smiled and softened her brow, motioning him to lighten his tone. He caught on and did as she bid.
“Bring the soup. That will be all.”
When they were alone, he returned to the bedside and gave her a concerned look. “You look pale.”
She crooked her mouth at him and felt her lips crack. “Hmm, I don’t feel so good.”
Without waiting for another word, he dashed out of her rooms. She heard him shout for the physician to be brought to Miss Ramsey immediately. Then he rushed back to her and took her hand. “You’re on fire!” He brought her basin of water closer and wiped her down, behind her neck, in front, over her forehead.
“Come now, dear Fable. You’re not going to let a thing like a fever defeat you. Hold on to me.”
She had enough strength to reach for him and take his hand. But that was all. In her head, she scoffed at her weakness. He was right. She’d fought worse things than a fever. She’d been stabbed by one of her mother’s enemies, she’d had pneumonia, chicken pox, and the measles. She was allergic to strawberries and barely survived on the sofa of a friend of her mother’s. There was more but she couldn’t remember all of it. Fever. Schmever.
She held onto his hand while another man poked and prodded her, took her pulse, and fed her horrible tasting “tea”.
She was vaguely aware of the second man leaving, and then the duke’s steady voice that made her insides rumble. “I’ll be right here.”
#
Fable woke to the sound of music permeating the walls. She opened her eyes to Edith scurrying around her bed. Whenthe older woman saw her, she stopped and let her grin fill her face. “It’s good to have you back, Miss.”
Fable hoped she was back for good. “I dreamed that I woke up back home in the future, so I was afraid to open my eyes.”
Edith came closer to the bed. “Oh, Miss,” she lamented, “you’re not fully well yet then.”
Right, people didn’t travel through time. Edith didn’t know what Fable knew. She decided the best thing to do was try to forget it. But it had truly frightened her. She didn’t want to go back to a life alone on the streets. Not ever.
“It was a dream, Edith,” she managed a soft laugh. “Oh, and what’s that music? It’s pretty…and loud.”
“It’s the musicians downstairs in the ballroom,” Edith told her, hurrying over to press her palm against Fable’s forehead. “Thank the good Lord, the fever seems to have broken.”
Yes, Fable agreed. Her head seemed to be clearer. Streaks of crimson washed across her face when she remembered how she’d held onto the duke and then held his hand. She wanted to kick herself. What was she? Some pitiful soul without an ounce of pride? Ugh. She disgusted herself.
“Wait,” she said after a moment of consternation at herself, “the ballroom? Is today Lady Prudence’s Marriage ball?”
Edith nodded. “And today is over. It’s tonight, Miss.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Two full days,” Edith told her with a sigh, then leaned in and whispered. “Had His Grace worried sick.”
Two days. It echoed in her head. It was the night of his sister’s ball and he wasn’t here.
Good.
She’d told him not to worry about her anymore. It seemed that’s what he was trying to do.But Edith said he’d been worriedsick over her. She didn’t want him to be. Did she? Somewhere deep inside she wanted to take joy in the fact that someone cared for her, but she knew better. She’d come here via supernatural forces. None of this was permanent. She’d wake up for real and in a flash all this would be gone.
Or he’d come for her.You call for the duke. Do you know him?
She pushed the time-traveler out of her mind and let Ben take over.
“Is His Grace at the ball?” She really didn’t want to know–but she had to know.
Edith nodded. “Yes. He promised Lady Prudence he would attend if she would stay out of his private affairs. But he hasn’t left your bedside before that.”
Fable smiled and asked for Edith’s help propping her up against the pillows. When Edith served her chicken broth and carrot soup, she drank every bit.
“His Grace will be pleased that you ate.”
