“Excuse me.” Robert strode over to the man who, upon closer inspection, had dark circles shading his eyes. “Is everyone in the household all right?”
The doctor took a slow breath, rubbing his brow. “I’m sorry, but may I inquire how you are acquainted with Lord Drake and his wife?”
“I am Lady Drake’s brother.” Worry wriggled into Robert’s mind. He had only heard from Jessica yesterday. Surely nothing could have happened to her between then and now.
The doctor sighed again, switching his bag to his other hand. “I would leave this to Lady Drake, but perhaps it would be easier for her if I tell you.”
“Then she is well?”
“Yes, she is physically well. But Lord Drake is not. I was up with him through the night, but he passed only an hour ago.”
“Passed?” The word slipped from his lips, seemingly detached from him. “I did not realize he was ill.”
“For the past week I have been in and out, but last night he took a sharp turn for the worse. I did what I could, but . . .” He stopped, shaking his head. “There was nothing I could do.”
Robert turned without responding, hurrying to the front door. Why had Jessica not told him Lord Drake was ill? He knocked, and silence stretched on before the footman finally swung it open, the man’s cheeks and eyes sallow.
“I need to see Lady Jessica, please.”
The footman recognized him, only nodding as he ushered him inside, holding his hand out toward the hall. “Lady Drake has asked that I show you to her private sitting room. This way.” He led Robert to a smaller, more intimate room than where Jessica usually entertained guests, its furniture in hues of deep rose. Jessica herself sat in a chair, pouring herself a cup of tea.
“Jessica—” Robert took a seat opposite his sister. “What is going on? Why did you not tell me Lord Drake was ill?”
“I did not think it necessary.” She took a sip. “I had assumed he was only being dramatic. I find that people of his age often invent ailments to keep their life intriguing.”
A weighted quiet hovered in the room. Whatever Robert had been anticipating her to say, that had not been it. “Was . . . did you expect this?”
Jessica brought the china, speckled with bright and happy flowers on its surface, down to her lap. “He had been ill for a week, but took a decided turn for the worse yesterday. That was why I asked you to visit. I thought to prepare you in case . . . well, in case this happened.”
He tilted his head as he studied Jessica, eyes intent on her face as they roved about, looking for any thread of emotion. “I am surprised you did not ask me to come sooner.”
She shrugged. “I had not thought his illness that serious at first.”
“But he—” Robert rubbed his brow, eyes scrunching shut. “He was notthatold.”
“What was he . . ?” Jessica’s voice trailed off as she stared into the room. “Ah, yes. He was to be fifty-two this year. I think,” she added as a small disclaimer.
“Youthink?” He leaned forward in his seat. How could she not know the age of her husband? Why was she not more bothered? Robert could understand quiet reservation, but she seemed completely indifferent.
“Robert, really. Calm yourself.” Jessica set her cup down on the tray beside her. “Would you like some tea? Perhaps it would help to settle you.”
His mouth fell open, and he stared as Jessica poured him a cup.
“You only like a bit of cream, correct?” She gazed up at him, but he didn’t have the ability to speak, so she finally poured the white liquid into a cup and handed it to him without any confirmation.
“I do not want tea, Jessica,” he finally bit out, eyes blazing as he glared at her.
“Goodness.” She placed it back onto the tray with a clatter. “Got a bee in your bonnet, Robert?”
“I just do not understand how you can sit there asking how I like my tea while your husband lies dead in his bed!” He stood, striding to the window and placing his hands against the sill as he stared outside. Things passed by on the street, but they were only a blur as his heart hammered in his chest. His mind buzzed, and he rubbed his face to gather himself. “Perhaps you should go lie down, Jessica. Surely this is a rather shocking event and you should get some rest.” That had to be it. She had been shocked by the news and thus did not know how to react.
“I do not wish to go lie down in a room adjacent to a cold, stiff body. I would rather stay here and enjoy a hot cup of tea with the living.”
Robert turned from his place at the window, his movements slow as dread crept through his limbs. “He is dead, Jessica. How can you talk like he was some person you did not even know? You were married to the man!”
“Robert, please. You are making a scene.”
“In front of whom, may I ask? No one is here but you and me. Forgive me if I am not comfortable discussing our day over a cup of tea while a man—your husband,” he enunciated, “has died.”
