His pleas to her remained elusive.
All through the nights he’d plied cool compresses to her head and wrists, uncaring of the tears that streamed down his face. There was no sign of her fever breaking. Losing her would kill him. “Damn it, Gabriella. I insist you wake up,” he whispered. “I love you. I don’t know how to live without you.” He stopped; his voice choked with such emotion as his own words stabbed him in the chest. His eyes burned, realizing what he could lose if she didn’t pull through. “I refuse to relinquish you until you wake and tell me you love me too!” He dropped his forehead to the mattress.
He lifted her hand and rested his lips on the silk of her skin, his forehead on her arm. “Please, love. I-I can’t do this without you. Please.”
“I’m here, James.”
He squeezed his eyes tight, unable to bear the illusions playing havoc with reality. He could lose her.
“I’m so thirsty,” she croaked out.
His head jerked up. “Gabriella?”
“I’m here. I feel horrid, but truly, I’m quite thirsty.” Her rusty, cracked voice was a Mozart concerto of genius proportion.
“Dear, God, Gabriella.” He straightened, shoved the waking nightmares from the cobbed webs of his brain, and quickly assisted her to sitting. He filled a glass of water and held it to her lips. “Slowly, now. You’ve been out for three days. I don’t appreciate being scared out of my wits like that.” His voice held a violent tremor.
Lady Macbeth rose from the end of the bed and carefully limped her way to Gabriella’s other side and licked her hand.
Gabriella’s eyes flew open. “Oh, my little queen. What happened to your… Lady Bentick! She shoved her out of the hackney.”
“Lady Bentick will pay for what she did to you and Lady Macbeth.” He put the glass to her lips. “She would hardly leave your side,” he said.
Her hand lifted and cupped his jaw. “It appears she was not the only one. When was the last time you shaved, my darling?”
He laid his hand over hers, pressing them into his skin. “I’m not sure.” He moved her palm to his lips and kissed her. He couldn’t believe she was finally awake.
Her eyes fluttered, then closed. “I can’t seem to recall much.”
“That is likely just as well,” he said gently.
“—but a pain in my side. Oh. Lady Bentick shot me!”
“She won’t be shooting anyone again soon.”
Her shudder reached through to him.
“She is under house arrest until her trial for stabbing Stanford convenes. There is the real possibility of a public hanging.”
“How awful for her.”
James scowled. “I would gladly release the lever myself,” he said, a sudden savage rage hurtling through him.
A small smile touched her lips. “I take it that won’t be necessary.”
“Ryleigh learned she was also responsible for attacking Miss Groves.”
Her eyes pooled with unshed tears. “Poor Florence.”
Gabriella’s eyes flickered once then closed.
“Apparently, she overheard you speaking to your sister Rose outside her drawing room. She told Ryleigh she followed you and the duchess when you’d left.”
“Oh, yes, I remember. She came in with a tray of tea. I was so upset with Rose, Rebecca and I didn’t stay.”
“Ryleigh verified all with her. She followed you and the duchess back to Hope House that night. She must have spotted Miss Groves on the street, heading for help. But as we’d all returned, she couldn’t attack Miss Groves until we were all inside. And, she would be out of reach herself, if she’d reached you and the duchess. Lady Bentick likely counted herself lucky in that particular encounter.”
Gabby moaned.
