He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths before going upstairs. A couple of maids were whispering in a corner but fell silent when they spotted him.
“Your Grace,” they said together, curtsying.
There would be rumours, gossip, and blame thrown around, but he’d be damned if he tolerated them in his own house.
“Return to your rooms.”
The maids almost tripped in their haste to obey.
He knocked on Isabella’s door. “Isabella.”
A teary-eyed, fierce-looking Lawson opened the door. She didn’t greet him, and he didn’t give a damn. He brushed past her, twitching his nose at the unmistakable smell of blood mingled with that of carbolic acid.
Isabella lay among cushions in the bed, pale and her breathing soft. Even without the doctor’s diagnosis, he would have guessed she’d risked dying. It was as if the very essence of life had been sucked out of her body, leaving her bloodless.
Lawson was on him like a hawk. “What are your intentions, Your Grace?”
He was growing tired of being disrespected.
“She can’t leave the bed,” she said. “She might die if she does. I beg you, you can’t throw her out now, nor tomorrow. The duchess is like a daughter to me.”
Also, he was growing tired of people assuming horrible things about him. “I won’t tolerate your tone any longer, Lawson.”
“Your…”
“Leave or you’ll search for new employment.”
She lost some of her fierce attitude. She glanced at Isabella before dropping a quick curtsy and leaving.
Finally.
Once alone, he allowed his emotions to overwhelm him. He wasn’t sure how he felt. There was worry about Isabella. He could have lost her. If she’d told him she was with child, a physician would have come regularly to visit her and perhaps she wouldn’t have almost died.
On the other hand, she’d lied to him; she’d tricked him into marrying her. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t angry and ashamed of how easily he’d believed her. How easily he’d believed she didn’t care about his scarred face.
But he understood why she’d lied. Almost. The father of the child must have refused to marry her, was already married, or wasn’t in her life anymore. Without getting married, she would have faced poverty and starvation. Like Lady Mary.
Everything made sense now.
He gently took her hand and held it, glad to find it warm. In front of her paleness and weakness, it was difficult to stay angry. She fluttered her eyes open, and for some reason, he felt like a thief caught red-handed. A quick breath escaped her, and her chest rose under the covers.
“Anthony. I’m…” She swallowed a few times with difficulty. “I know…” Her grip on his fingers lacked strength.
“You need rest. Don’t talk. I only wanted to see you for a moment.” He released her hand and tucked her arm under the covers. “Dr. Norris was clear. Absolute rest.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. But we’ll talk when you’re strong again.”
She blinked the tears away.
“Sleep.” He caressed the top of her head. “Don’t worry about anything. Just get better.”
He waited until fatigue overwhelmed her again and she fell asleep. He wanted to stay with her all night, perhaps sleeping on the chair or the sofa, but she might get too agitated, and he didn’t want to cause her further distress or get in the doctor’s way.
He found Lawson in the corridor pacing with her arms folded over her chest. She straightened when he closed the door.
“If you need help taking care of the duchess, ask Rogers and he’ll send you the maids. If anything happens, call me immediately. Dr. Norris will sleep here tonight.” He went to his room before she could talk.
He lay in his bed, suddenly exhausted. His pride hurt after Grandmama’s speech.
And his heart was broken by Isabella’s lies.
