"Oh, James," she said softly and squeezed his arm with the tiniest bit of pressure.
He stopped.
She was still looking at him, her eyes steady and very clear. "Hannah found you?"
"She doesn’t remember it,” he told her. And it was the one thing he was truly grateful for. "She’s only five. Daniel convinced her it was a nightmare."
Cori released a staggered breath. “That sounds like Daniel.”
It did, indeed. His brother’s roguish skills had come in handy that day.
“And you’ve been carrying the weight of this for six weeks?”
“There’s nothing that can be done about it,” he said stepping away from her, hating the emptiness in his own voice, hating the loss of her touch even more. “I should go in.”
He left the garden before she could stop him or say something else that might make him foolishly change course.
Cori watched him go and her heart ached. She wanted to run after him, to soothe him, to promise that all would be well. To vow that she would not allow it to be otherwise. But she knew that wasn’t possible.
She stood, her feet planted firmly in the garden and she stared off at the moors in the distance.
A seizure.
Six weeks ago.
Good heavens!
How had he managed the weight of that alone? He hadn’t of course, he’d had Daniel and?—
And Cait!
There was no doubt in Cori’s mind that her sister had known this horrible secret. But for how long? For six weeks? For less than that? Did the amount of time even matter?
Cait had known and she’d not given Cori even the tiniest indication that something was wrong. Oh, she’d warned Cori to be careful, but that was hardly the same thing. The fact of the matter was, her sister should have told her the truth when she knew Cori fancied James. But now… Well, now her feelings for him were much stronger than a mere infatuation. She loved him, and the implications of his health hit much harder than they would have done six weeks ago.
Oh, James.
Cori closed her eyes, blocking out the grey sky and the moors, and thought she might shatter into a million pieces.
A seizure.
Six weeks ago.
Her thoughts turned to Hannah. Five years old and adorably precocious. Much too young to have to face such a horrible situation, let alone understand it. Daniel had convinced the little girl it was a nightmare, had he? Cori scoffed. It was a nightmare. That was the only word for the situation.
A nightmare of the worst variety. And James should not have to face it by himself, even if he was bound and determined to be noble and suffer it alone. There were no awards for martyrdom, and it was ridiculous of him to push away anyone who cared for him.
And she did care for him. More than she had known was possible. And she wasn’t about to let him push her away. She was built of sterner stuff than all that.
Cori went in search of James. After all, they were not finished with their conversation, no matter what he might believe.
She made her way to his study, the library, the breakfast room, and would have thought he'd found a way to vanish into thin air, if she hadn't stumbled upon Mrs. Fairleigh in the corridor.
The lady stopped when she spotted Cori. There was something in her steady blue gaze that made Cori go still. She had seen that look before — across the dinner table, in the drawing room, at the wedding breakfast — but she hadn’t ever quite been able to account for it. Now, standing in the corridor with the morning light coming through the east windows, she understood. Mrs. Fairleigh had known about James’ health. Perhaps for weeks. And she had been watching Cori since she arrived as though she was sizing her up.
"He went to the portrait gallery," Mrs. Fairleigh said simply and then continued on her way.
Cori didn't stop to wonder how the lady had known who she was searching for. She simply hastened her pace to the east wing.
