“Ladies, help Mr. Carew do his best. If Lady Hampton needs to be carried out, I’ll handle that myself.”
He stopped mid-step, halfway down, and turned back to us. “Well, she might be a bit of a tiger. I’ll get Sebastian and Steele. The three of us can drag her out so Carew can work.”
Shirtsleeves rolled up, waistcoat open, the duke, who looked like he’d already been wrestling in the streets, went down the rest of the stairs. His humor had returned, but he was still spoiling for a fight.
Scarlett opened the bedroom door and I saw a sight I hated—Katherine sitting next to a sickbed, holding a deathly ill person’s hand.
Chapter 23
GEORGINA—DIDHEJUSTPROPOSE?
Iwatched the duke pace outside Lydia’s bedchamber. The heavy door painted light blue with picture-frame molding separated us from the bed where the sick little girl lay. The willow bark tea lessened her fever, but it hadn’t broken. Bloodletting would be done within the hour.
Our Lydia seemed to be hovering between lucidity and pain, life and death. And there was nothing I nor my sisters could do.
Scarlett, who I sent to get a few hours of sleep, felt so guilty. It was she who had convinced the duke to try the willow. Was the delay of Carew’s procedure worth the slight improvement?
“Your Grace, perhaps you should try to get a little sleep. We don’t need you relapsing with your spring cold.”
“Thank you, Miss Wilcox. It’s good to count on someone to look after my health. It’s good to have someone concerned for another.”
“Well, I am grateful for you. You’ve proven we Wilcoxes can count upon you.”
The duke looked up with bushy, unkempt eyebrows. “Your sister Katherine was right. I didn’t know what to do. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try everything. My Anya, my little sister, suffered. I didn’t have the means to be of aid. Up until now, I have had everything but a reason to be generous. Your family gives me a reason.”
“Katherine will fight you. She can’t help it. But my sister must see you’re doing the best for Lydia.”
“Your sister doesn’t trust me. I know. I made a promise to Anya . . . Lydia. I will fix all the problems.”
“How do you intend to do that? Be a part of her life forever? If Mr. Carew is right, there is no cure. This struggle will continue, and as good as you are to us, our season ends after your ball.”
Music filtered in the air.
It was soft, delicate to my ears.
Another one of Pleyel’s hymns.
“I suppose I’d need a reason more than friendship to be connected to the Wilcoxes. Something permanent and legal. I think I know how to solve thisconnectionproblem and your scandal.”
“What, Your Grace?” I stretched. We were in dire need of levity or a miracle. He might have one. “Tell me.”
“Well, from what I see, Miss Wilcox, you’re spoken for. Pity, you’d make a hell of a duchess. Unless you aren’t?”
What did he just say? “Not your duchess?” I looked at him with amusement. “And you know it. Why are you trying to make me laugh?”
“True. It is a joke, but maybe it shouldn’t be.”
“Say what, Your Grace?” I forced my bulging eyes back into my skull. “You’re kidding?”
“Forgive me for thinking aloud, but you are reasonable.”
“Reasonable? Not beautiful or charismatic or smitten with unimaginable love.No thank youto this line of thinking.”
“There are plenty of reasons to marry other than love. A wife who’s a friend, and a friendship that cements familial bonds is something to consider. In sickness and health, a partnership . . . a partner who will look after one another, making sure they are protected and their wishes are carried out is important.”
“In sickness and in health is an important vow. Shouldn’t there be more to marriage?”
“When you realize you can’t have what you want, you must take what you deserve. I need peace. Making a tranquil life is something one can claim. Maybe it’s something we can claim.”
