“Mr.Heartly,” Lady Foxworth gasped. “You should not be in here. It is not proper!”
His eyes fell on Mary, on the sheen of perspiration veiling her forehead, her flushed cheeks and the agitated state she appeared to be in as she threw her head from side to side, groaning in between. “To hell with propriety. This is about saving her life.”
“We are doing all that we can,” Lady Foxworth said, her voice filled with despair as she tucked the blankets around Mary and wiped her brow with a cloth.
“No. She needs to be cooled, not heated.” Richard moved toward the bed, his hands reaching for Mary’s blankets.
Lady Foxworth caught him by the wrist. “Please,” she implored with a shake of her head. “I cannot bear the thought of losing her.”
He understood her grief. “Neither can I, which is why I can assure you that I intend to make her better by whatever means necessary. You may disagree with my method, but consider her progress this past hour while you have been trying to keep her warm beneath these blankets. Has her condition improved or worsened?”
A few seconds passed and then, choking back a sob, Lady Foxworth drew back and nodded, her expression one of utter defeat. “Very well. Do what you think best.”
He didn’t wait another second, tossing aside the blankets so that only the sheet remained. Leaning forward, Richard tucked it around Mary as he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the door, her head resting firmly against his chest.
“Where are you taking her?” Lady Foxworth asked from somewhere behind him, but Richard didn’t stop to give her an answer, nor did he deign the doctor or his brother with an explanation as he passed them both on the way out of Mary’s room. Instead, he practically ran as fast as his feet could carry him, careful not to stumble on the stairs.
A few guests who were making their way up to bed stopped to look at him, their eyes widening when they saw that he was carrying Mary. Some even asked what was wrong, but Richard ignored them all as he hurried toward his destination, exiting onto the terrace and crossing the lawn. With a leap, he plunged into the lake until they were shoulder deep in the icy water.
Air rushed from Mary’s lungs and he instinctively hugged her closer. “Relax,” he whispered against her cheek. “This is good for you. It will make you better.”
She said nothing, responding only with a deep murmur as she pressed herself against him, the sheet and her chemise floating around them, bright against the enfolding darkness. As the water settled, Richard could hear the frogs croaking from the embankment. Fully clothed, the weight of the water made standing upright a chore, his feet constantly slipping against the pliable mud beneath him.
With no way in which to tell the time, he had no idea how long he’d been standing there until Lady Foxworth called to him from the embankment, inquiring about Mary’s welfare. Turning, Richard saw that Lady Duncaster was with her, both ladies cast in tones of gray while light from the lantern they’d brought flooded the ground at their feet.
“I believe this is helping,” he said, his teeth chattering slightly as he spoke.
“You are putting your own health at risk,” Lady Duncaster remarked.
“I would risk a great deal more than that if it means that she will live,” he replied, clutching Mary closer. Her heartbeat, so faint against his chest, assured him that she was still alive even when she seemed so lifeless in his arms. “Do you know what time it is?”
“One o’clock,” Lady Duncaster said. “Would you like me to leave the lantern here?”
When he nodded, she set the lantern down on a nearby bench before taking her leave along with Lady Foxworth. Alone again, Richard lowered his lips to Mary’s forehead. She was still hot, though not as much as earlier. Kissing her cheek, he began to straighten himself when she suddenly squirmed, struggling against him and splashing at the water.
Her eyes flew open, startled no doubt by the cold wetness surrounding her.
“Mary!” Her name was tightly spoken as he tried his best to remain upright—a difficult task when she started kicking her feet. “I have you, Mary. You are safe. Stop fighting me!”
With a sob, she clawed at his shoulders as if holding on for dear life. “What happened?” The words were barely audible, ending on a groan of anguish.
“You were shot,” he said as he shifted her to a more comfortable position. “It was an accident.”
Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back against his arm, her breaths more rapid than before. “Who?” was all she managed to ask.
“Your brother.”
When she said nothing in response, Richard thought she’d lost consciousness again until he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and realized she was crying. “You developed a fever,” he explained, knowing how confused she must be, “that is why I brought you here. We have to try and cool you down.” Swallowing his concerns he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“It hurts like the devil,” she said. “Much more so than when I ran toward you and... I cannot remember what happened next.”
“You collapsed.” When she just nodded, he added, “We should stay here a while longer, I think—at least until your fever has dissipated.” She didn’t reply to that, though she pressed her cheek to his chest as if trying to snuggle closer. Dipping his mouth to the top of her head, he began humming a low tune, soothing her with the sound of his voice.
They remained like that for what seemed like forever until she suddenly shifted again. “I think I would like to return to my bedchamber,” she said, her body shivering as she spoke.
Richard expelled a deep breath. If she was feeling cold, then perhaps... Pressing his lips to her forehead once more, he found her feeling cool to the touch. “Very well,” he managed against the tightness in his throat, his voice breaking as he turned and started back toward the embankment.
“I love you,” she whispered as soon as they reached solid ground. “Thank you for saving my life.”
