“Lydia has made it my business. Lady Hampton, I haven’t made a bet in six years. How much do you want to wager that I have the power to make sure Lydia Wilcox is protected and remains in my care until she’s healthy and able to walk from my house?”
“You wouldn’t go against my wishes.” Her voice wobbled. “You—”
“Lady Hampton, you claim I’m heartless and manipulative because of a faulty notion of the past. You don’t know the man I’ve become or what I am capable of. My wishes come first. I will make Lydia well.”
This man, who’d been friendly and nurturing and even fun, had the money and influence to do whatever he wanted. The Duke of Torrance’s world was different from mine, and even Mark’s. The duke had power, true power. He’d use it.
The determined man signaled again to his driver to hurry. The very showy landau would soon be at Anya House. He’d given us no choice.
Mark squeezed my hand.
I hadn’t noticed, not until we’d almost arrived, that he still held it.
Sort of needed his comfort, even if it was for show.
Something very wrong had changed in this carriage ride.
And Katherine, our leader, sat alone, looking deathly disturbed.
Chapter 22
GEORGINA—THEWAITING
Standing on the landing of the second floor of Anya House, I viewed a wonderland. From the soft blue walls to the long thick rug running the length of the corridor, the upper level, though as big as downstairs, was warmer, more intimate.
Nonetheless, I felt encamped in a hospital, something cold and dark. For three days we’d stayed here waiting for Lydia’s fever to break, for her pain to lessen.
Though the duke welcomed my sisters and me as guests, he’d changed. The jovial man was gone. This version was serious, conferring with the league of doctors who he charged with caring for Lydia.
I believe I even heard various languages talking about our girl like she’d died.
The last doctor, Mama’s last doctor, was in with her now. Mr. Carew was diligent. If Lydia had the constitution of our mother . . . the illness that tormented Mama, he’d surely know what to do.
Scarlett came up the steps carrying a cup of tea. “For you, sis.”
Didn’t want tea, just answers. I set it on the table in the corridor. Then I grabbed Scarlett and held her, held her like I’d do Lydia if she ran out the door, like I’d do Katherine if she moved from the child’s bedside.
“Georgina. We have to have faith. His Grace has brought an entire group of physicians to care for our little girl. She will be well.”
“I don’t know, Scarlett. You didn’t see the duke. He’s furious. It’s like he’s blaming himself for Lydia being ill. Then he blames Katherine for not noticing how sick she was. They are both so furious and yet so scared.”
She rubbed my back, hitting the tension that led to my neck. “We know how hard Kitty is on herself. But the duke, it’s like he’s fighting for Lydia, like he thinks—”
“That she might die like his sister.”
Scarlett nodded. “I hear bits and pieces, but Anya Charles, the duke’s little sister, died about Lydia’s age. And it sounds like she had these pains and fevers just like Lydia.”
My hand flew to my mouth and covered my lips.
My sister nodded again. “He’s fighting for Anya, what he would’ve done if he had secured his title and money without delay. The poor man thinks he could’ve saved her.”
Scarlett was the smartest person in any room. “Tell me what you believe.”
“The symptoms, the fever spells and pains—Lydia has what Mama had and probably Anya.”
“The mysterious illness that keeps coming back until they die.”
“And Mr. Carew believes this too.” Her voice became low. “There’s no cure-all.”
