Page 72 of Mail-Order Viscountess

He let himself watch the rise and fall of her chest, feel the steady pulse in her hand against his.

The light shifted as the afternoon wore on. Eventually someone would come—Mrs. Wang with dinner, or Robert with news from Clara’s room. Eventually they would have to face whatever came next.

But for now, there was only this. The warmth of his wife’s hand in his. The trust she now honored him with.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn’t running from anything.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. No matter where he went—including California—as long as he had this woman, he’d be home.

CHAPTER 23

Kate leaned against the doorframe of Clara’s room, watching her sister push herself higher against the pillows. The movement was still slow, still careful, but it was movement. Five days ago, Clara had barely been able to lift her head.

“You’re hovering again.” Clara’s voice had regained some of its familiar sweetness, though it came out thinner than usual. “I can feel you worrying from here.”

“I’m not hovering. I’m observing.”

“You’re hovering.” Clara smoothed the quilt over her lap, her fingers still pale beneath the red splotches that were starting to peel. “And you look exhausted.”

She was exhausted—eight days of sleeping in fitful bursts, of straining to hear every sound from Clara’s room, of holding her breath each time Robert emerged with an update. Even with Thomas holding her through these last five nights since they’d ended her quarantine, even with his steady presence anchoring her, the fear had carved itself into her bones.

But Clara’s fever had finally broken two nights ago. Today she could sit up and had even regained enough strength to tease.

Kate had thanked Thomas a hundred times in her mind for staying.

But now, with Clara’s eyes clearer and her voice stronger, a different, unfamiliar gratitude tightened inside her—directed upward, not sideways.

Had God been the one to heal her sister? How could she ever really know?

She forced herself to straighten, to release her grip on the doorframe, and refocused on her sister. “I’ll stop hovering when you stop looking like a strong breeze could knock you over.”

“Fair enough.” Clara’s smile was weak but genuine. Loose strands of her honey-blonde hair had escaped her braid and hung limp around her face. But her eyes held their familiar warmth.

“Thomas says you need to get out of the house.” Clara folded her hands atop the quilt, her gaze too knowing. “He mentioned it to me this morning when he brought up my breakfast.”

Of course he had. Thomas had been suggesting it since yesterday—gentle hints that fresh air would help her feel better, that Clara was improving, that sitting vigil wouldn’t make her sister heal any faster.

“I’m fine here.”

“Kate.” Clara’s voice carried that blend of affection and exasperation she’d perfected over the years. “You’ve barely left this hallway in over a week. Mrs. Wang told me you haven’t even been down for meals.”

“Someone needed to be close in case⁠—”

“In case I needed you. I know.”

“Kate.” Thomas’s voice came from the direction of the stairs, and she turned as he strode down the hallway. Mrs. Wang had trimmed his copper-brown hair sometime this week, though it still fell across his forehead in that unruly way that fit his personality so exactly. “I need to ride into Walnut Springs for Clara’s medicine and a few supplies.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “I’ll stay with Clara while you⁠—”

“Actually.” He stopped beside her in the open doorway. His gaze scanned Clara before finding hers with that steady warmth that had become her anchor these past days. “I thought you might come with me. My family’s here to watch Clara, and Mrs. Wang has promised to check in every hour. You could use some fresh air.”

Fresh air. The words tugged at something deep inside her—a longing she’d been pressing down beneath layers of worry and duty. She hadn’t breathed anything but the close air of sickrooms and hallways for days.

But leaving Clara, even for a few hours…

“Go.” Clara’s voice cut through her hesitation. “Honestly, Kate, there’s nothing for you to do here except stare at me and fret. I’m mostly just bored now.”

Thomas’s hand found the small of her back, warm even through the layers of her dress. “We won’t be gone long. The afternoon at most. And if anything changes, James can ride out to meet us.”