He had not intended to memorize her.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he said.
His valet stepped inside.
“Your sister has sent word, Your Grace. The boy is improving and has asked for you.”
Nathaniel did not hesitate.
“I’ll leave now.”
He would arrive after dark, but he knew she would be awake. She had always been one to sleep late, and she had explained that it had gotten worse since the birth of her son.
His sister’s maid met him at the door, as though they had all been expecting him.
“He is in good spirits,” she said softly. “The fever broke this afternoon.”
“Thank you,” Nathaniel said, and went inside.
His sister looked up from the chair beside the bed. The lines of worry that had marked her face for weeks had eased. She rose when she saw him.
“You are late,” she said, but she was smiling.
“I left as soon as I received your letter,” he replied. “How is he?”
She glanced toward the bed.
“Better. He asked for you before falling asleep.”
“Yes, you mentioned that.”
Nathaniel crossed the room and sat on the edge of the mattress. His nephew lay propped against pillows, his hair damp with sweat but his eyes clear. The boy’s hand was small in Nathaniel’s, his grip weak but present.
Nathaniel brushed the boy’s hair back from his forehead. The skin beneath his hand was warm in a healthy way. The fear that had lived in his chest for days eased at last, as did the guilt that he was out promenading with a beautiful young lady while they were struggling.
“You scared us,” Nathaniel said to the sleeping little boy, keeping his voice even.
His sister’s eyes met Nathaniel’s over the bed. The shared relief needed no words. She gestured toward the chair, and he moved there once the boy had closed his eyes again.
“You look distracted,” she said quietly.
Nathaniel leaned back.
“I took a walk this afternoon.”
“With her?” she asked.
He did not answer at once.
“Yes. With her.”
Her brows lifted. He had not expected such a reaction, but then he hardly ever knew what to expect from her.
“In public?”
“Yes.”
