On the surface, what Lady Emily suggested made perfect sense. Better than that, it should have brought relief unlike anything else. Alistair’s desire to marry had nothing to do with a desire to find love and romance, and it had everything to do with finding a partner to help him care for Hugh.
If he was to marry Lady Emily, it would solve all his problems. What was more, he might even be happy.At the very least, content.
The one thing getting in the way of this otherwise perfect situation were thoughts of Miss Norleigh. Still, his governess rattled around in the back of his head, and still he wondered why he could not stop thinking about her.
Just the idea of marrying Lady Emily, knowing that they would never fall in love, while there was another who…another what? Miss Norleigh is not a serious option, nor will she ever be. Why can I not accept that? And why do I always seem to gravitate toward that which will only bring me pain?
“You don’t have to say anything now,” Lady Emily hurried to say. “I just wanted it known.”
“Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “That is… not to insult you, but that is a great relief to hear.”
“Ha,” she said. “Just what every lady wishes to hear, relief found at learning that they are not loved.” She squeezed his hand, and her smile grew. “But think about it, won’t you, Your Grace?”
“I will,” he promised her.
“Good.” She straightened and turned to face the stage, at which point the curtains started to open. “Perfect timing. Oh, this should be fun!”
Alistair studied Lady Emily as the performance started, truly perplexed by how quickly she had managed to raise the topic of their future, and then drop it as if nothing was the matter. Her eyes sparkled from the light of the theatre, her smile grew, and laughter escaped her lips.
She really was perfect in so many ways, and she would make a wonderful bride and mother to Hugh. But could he do it? Would he be satisfied with her as his wife?
Alistair did not know the answer. What he did know was that marrying her would be the right choice to make, for Hugh… after all, that was why he was in this situation in the first place. But the right thing to do and what he wanted to do were two separate beasts, currently waging war within, no clear victor anywhere in sight.
It made the circumstance all the more confusing, which was just wonderful, as if things were not confusing enough.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alistair knew that something was wrong the moment he arrived home from the theatre. He spent the ride in a state of confusion, still thinking about what Lady Emily had said to him… and what he should do about it. But those thoughts vanished when the carriage turned into the driveway, and he looked outside to see that the lights in his home were still on.
It was late in the evening, and while a few lamps might have been lit as the evening staff finished their chores, the fact that nearly every single one burned bright was troubling.
The carriage came to a stop, he climbed outside, and no sooner had his feet hit the dirt did the front door swing open. Rushing through it, her face demented with panic, was Miss Norleigh.
“Your Grace!” she cried out as she rushed toward him. “You must come quickly!!”
“Miss Norleigh…” A stone dropped in Alistair’s stomach. “Wh – what’s wrong? Is it Hugh? What happened?”
She reached him and took his hand. “I do not know. He was perfectly well when we ate supper. He seemed fine!” She started to drag him back toward the house.
“What is going on?” he demanded as the fear grew inside him. “Speak to me!”
They reached the front door, and Miss Norleigh turned back. With the light coming from inside, it lit her face so that he saw it clearly for the first time. This only increased the panic already surging through him. Her eyes were red and glazed over, tears streamed down her cheeks, and her entire body trembled.
“He is sick,” she said as she continued to pull on his arm. “A fever of some kind.”
Alistair nodded his understanding and forced himself to be calm. “Take me to him.”
Miss Norleigh held onto his hand as she pulled him through the house. It was a silly thing to think in the moment, but Alistair was surprised by how much comfort came from her presence. Her hand wrapped in his, and despite the fear, there was a sense that so long as she was there, nothing could harm him.
They reached Hugh’s bedroom not long after.
Mrs. Fletcher was by Hugh’s bed, and she had on the stool beside her a bowl filled with water and a stack of washcloths. She dipped them in the bowl, rinsing them out, before applying them to Hugh’s forehead.
Hugh lay silently in bed. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale and drenched in sweat. And every few moments, a soft moan would escape his lips, and he would writhe as if in agony.
“Hugh…” Alistair fell to his knees by the boy’s bed. He took his hand, wincing to feel how cold and clammy it was… yet also, somehow warm. “I’m here, Hugh. I’m here.”
Hugh moaned, and his grip was so weak.
