Amelia hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“He told you to stay away from Juliette’s room, didn’t he?”
Amelia nodded. “He doesn’t want to risk my health.”
“Then let’s respect his wishes.”
A look of uncertainty crossed Amelia’s face, but then she nodded and stepped back. “Good luck,” she whispered before leaving Gabriella alone in the hallway.
Facing the door, Gabriella drew a breath. Knocking would be the polite thing to do, but it would also warn Raphe of her arrival, and give him the chance to send her away before she even made it inside. She dropped her gaze to the door handle. Would it be locked or not? There was only one way to find out.
Placing her hand on the handle, she carefully pushed down. The door gave way, opening to a dimly lit room. Without pausing, Gabriella stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“What the—” Before she could manage to get her bearings straight, he was there, towering over her, with murder in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”
It was difficult to stay calm when faced with that much anger—except it was more than anger. Anger would be too simple a word to describe the emotion that filled Raphe’s face. There was also pain and fear and the worst kind of hopelessness Gabriella had ever seen. “I came to see you,” she told him simply.
His jaw tightened. “Get. Out!”
“No. I will not let you deal with this on your own.” He’d done so before, had lost a sister doing so.
For a second, she saw appreciation, but it was quickly gone again. “Fielding won’t like that,” he spat. “And if you get sick, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“We’ll get to Fielding later, but, the way I see it, you have been carrying too much responsibility on your shoulders for far too long. You shouldn’t have to carry this too. Not on your own.”
His entire body seemed to strain beneath that statement. “I have to save her.” His voice broke and he averted his gaze. A dark strand of hair fell haphazardly across his brow.
Reaching up, Gabriella placed her hand carefully on his arm. “I know,” she whispered. “Please let me help you.”
Silently, he turned away from her and walked across to the four-poster bed where his sister was lying, propped up against thick pillows. “The doctor says it’s probably influenza,” Huntley said as he carefully touched his fingers to Juliette’s cheek.
Following him over to the bed, Gabriella looked at the sleeping face of the young woman she’d come to know. She appeared so frail and delicate. No wonder Raphe was worried. Gabriella was too, seeing her like this, her breath rasping past her lips with each inhalation she took. Steeling herself for Raphe’s sake, Gabriella asked, “Shall we see if her compress needs changing?” With a fever, it would probably have to be done often.
Nodding solemnly, he carefully gathered the piece of linen from Juliette’s forehead. “It’s warm.” He moved toward the washbasin and proceeded to soak it with cool water. “I just changed it before you arrived.”
“I’ll prepare another,” Gabriella said. She was determined not to let Juliette’s dangerously high fever deter her from her task. The last thing Raphe needed was for her to show signs of distress. She must be strong and practical now. “That way we’ll be able to switch them without leaving her without one.”
Raphe didn’t respond, which Gabriella took to be a sign of approval. So when he went back to Juliette, she began preparing another compress. They exchanged the two until a maid arrived with the chicken soup the doctor had ordered, and then for a long while after, until a knock eventually sounded at the door.
Muttering an oath that Gabriella had never heard before, Raphe went to the door and opened it just enough to speak with whoever happened to be on the other side. “I thought I asked not to be disturbed.” His voice was cool and tight with restrained anger. “What is it?”
“There’s a message from the Earl and Countess of Warwick.” Gabriella recognized Pierson’s voice. “They demand to know what you have done with their daughter.”
Although she could not see Raphe’s expression, Gabriella knew from his sudden change in posture that he was about to explode. She stepped hastily forward and nudged him aside so she could speak to Pierson directly. “Bring me some writing equipment and I shall prepare a note for them.” She should have done so earlier when she’d decided to stay, she reflected, but the urgency of Juliette’s illness had made Gabriella forget about everything else.
“Perhaps you ought to return home,” Raphe said once Pierson had gone to do her bidding.
“I will not leave you,” Gabriella told him stubbornly. Glancing toward Juliette, she shook her head with increased determination. “Not like this.” It didn’t matter that her actions were just about as inappropriate as they could possibly be for a young unmarried woman who’d just gotten engaged to someone other than the man whose company she was choosing to keep. She could not bring herself to abandon Juliette or her brother, for any reason. Not until she was absolutely certain that they would both be well. If incurring her parents’ wrath would be the price she’d have to pay, then so be it.
Which was precisely what she wrote in her missive to her parents after Pierson returned with paper and quill a short while later. Handing the letter over to him, she closed the door once more. A dry cough resonated through the room, drawing Gabriella’s attention. Turning, she saw that Juliette’s eyes had opened, and that Raphe was standing over her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he gently placed his hand against Juliette’s cheek.
“Like I’m—” Juliette coughed again, the effort shaking her slim body with a violent tremor. “Like I’m burnin’ up.”
“Do you think you might be able to eat something?” Gabriella asked, moving closer.
Another cough wracked Juliette, and then another, and another. “Maybe later,” she eventually managed. Her eyes fluttered as if she was struggling to keep them open. “Thirsty—”
