Walking into the darkness farther around the terrace, she located Tobias. Leaning on the balustrade, he had his head lowered between his hands. He was the picture of defeat, and she didn’t like how that made her feel.
“Are you unwell?”
He straightened, and she heard the hiss of his breath at the movement.
“Good evening again, Lady Liberty. You should not be out here alone with me.”
“Why are you out here alone when you have just arrived? Why are you wincing when you move, and why do your eyes appear squinty?”
“Which question do you wish an answer to first?” His words sounded raspy and off as he straightened to turn and lean against the balustrade, as if he needed it to hold him upright.
“What is going on, Lord Corbyn?” Something hit her then, and she did not like it one bit. “Are you meeting someone here?” The realization that it could be a woman had cold slithering through her body.
“You think I would have a secret liaison at your family home?” The words were no longer calm. “Your opinion of me is indeed poor.”
“I don’t know you,” she said in a low, angry voice.
He didn’t answer that, instead turning from her to look out to the night sky.
“If you are not meeting someone, then are you unwell, my lord? Do you need me to collect your friends to assist you?”
“I don’t need you to collect anyone.” He was still looking at the sky.
“Why are you looking at the sky?”
“I like it.”
She took a deep breath and counted to ten.
“So you still do that, too?”
“What?” She had only reached five.
“Count to ten when you are trying to calm down.”
“No,” Liberty lied. “Have you found anything more out about Bidham?” If he didn’t want to answer her about what was going on with him, then she’d ask him about that.
“You need to go back inside, my lady.” He turned, and then swayed.
Liberty closed the distance between them and took his arm. “Come, you need to sit down, as clearly you are not well, and like my father, refuse to acknowledge it.”
“I am well,” he gritted out.
“I can see that,” she mocked him. Liberty tugged his arm and led him to a seat her father had placed on this side so his wife could sit here and look over the gardens in private. “Sit at once, Lord Corbyn.” She nudged him down into it.
His breath came out on a heavy sigh as he lowered himself onto the wooden seat.
“What is going on, Lord Corbyn?”
His sigh was loud. “I hit my head before coming here, and in fact I probably should have gone home, but I didn’t.” He spoke the words slowly, as if they pained him, and then frowned, as if confused by having said them to her. “I fear it is not getting better, but worse.”
“You should have returned to your townhouse,” Liberty said, wondering what she should do now. What if he became unconscious?
“In my defense, it was not this bad earlier, my lady.”
Liberty looked around her and found the door that led into a small parlor. Trying the handle, she was relieved when it opened. Entering, she hurried to the sideboard and found the tray that held a brandy decanter. Liberty poured some into a glass. Hurrying back out the door, she was relieved to find Tobias still where she’d left him. She sat beside him.
“Sip this.”
