Page 93 of Mail-Order Viscountess

Heidi nodded. “When I was ten. Nearly killed me too. But I’ve nursed a good number of people through it since—Salish and white alike. The fever coming back the way it did yesterday, that’s not uncommon. Sometimes the body rallies, then gathers itself for another push. But Clara here—” She reached over and pressed the back of her hand to Clara’s forehead, then her cheek. “She’s over the worst. I’d stake my favorite dress on it.”

The knot in Thomas’s chest eased. What a blessing to have Two Stones and Heidi here—especially since Heidi possessed this knowledge that seemed to have already helped Clara so much.

Kate must have sensed him at the doorway, because her head turned. The moment her eyes found his, her whole expression shifted. Her mouth softened, and the warmth in those hazel eyes made his pulse kick just like it always did.

“Good morning.” She held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary, and it seemed to show the echo of everything they’d said to each other in that snowy clearing. I love you. Still new enough to send heat climbing up his neck.

“Morning.” He glanced at Clara. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I look dreadful, and we all know it.” Clara gave a tired smile. “But I’ll take dreadful over dying.”

“I’ll take that trade too.” He meant it more than she probably knew.

Kate straightened and tilted her head, listening. “I think I hear your brothers. Sounds like horses coming up the road.”

Thomas moved to the window and peered out. Two riders approached through the morning sunlight—Enoch and James. Robert had already returned late the night before with Clara’s medicine. These two now looked bone-tired, but uninjured, from what he could tell at this distance.

“I should go down.” He turned back to the room. “Get an update about what happened in town.”

Kate stood, smoothing her skirts. “I’ll come with you.” She glanced at Clara. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“Go.” Clara waved her away with a hand that still trembled slightly. “I’m not planning to do anything more exciting than sleep for the next several hours anyway.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Heidi reached for one of the cups by the bed. “You two go hear what your brothers have to say.”

Kate pressed a kiss to Clara’s forehead and murmured something he couldn’t quite catch. Then she crossed to him, and he slipped his arm around her waist as they headed for the stairs.

They descended side by side, and every time they touched, it warmed through him—the brush of her shoulder against his arm, the quiet rhythm of her steps. Last night, riding home with her in his arms, he’d promised himself he would never again take for granted the simple miracle of having this woman beside him.

The front door opened before they reached the bottom step, and Enoch filled the doorframe. His brother looked like he hadn’t slept—dark circles under those blue eyes, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his clothes carrying the rumpled look of a man who’d spent the night in a jail keeping watch over prisoners.

James followed close behind, equally worn but moving with a determination that meant he was running on will alone. Robert appeared from the direction of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows.

Rose emerged from the kitchen behind Robert, already reaching for James. He pulled her close with one arm, pressing his face into her hair for just a moment before straightening.

“How’s Clara?” Enoch directed the question to Kate as he shrugged out of his coat.

“Better. Much better.” Kate’s voice carried a steadiness Thomas hadn’t heard in days. “Heidi’s remedies brought the fever down through the night. And Clara’s sitting up and talking this morning.”

James let out a breath. “Thank God for that.”

“Thank God for Two Stones and Heidi showing up when they did.” Thomas hung back near the base of the stairs, watching his brothers settle. Mandie had appeared from the parlor, and Enoch’s arm circled her waist as naturally as breathing.

This. All of them, here and whole. The knot in his chest tightened, but it wasn’t the old bitterness. It was something else entirely—something that felt too large and too fragile to name.

“Come sit.” Mrs. Wang sounded from the kitchen doorway, as she always seemed to do at the exact right moment. “Eat first, then talk.”

No one argued. Within minutes, the long dining table held platters of Mrs. Wang’s biscuits and thick-sliced ham, a bowl of preserves, and a pot of coffee strong enough to raise the dead. The brothers and their wives arranged themselves around the table—Enoch and Mandie on the end, James and Rose on one of the longer sides with Robert beside her. On the other long side, Thomas held Kate’s chair before taking the seat beside her. A small thing. But she looked up at him as she sat, and the quiet gratitude in her expression told him it wasn’t small to her at all. Clara’s chair sat empty, of course, and Mrs. Wang bustled in and out of the kitchen. Two Stones must be outside with the animals.

For several minutes, no one spoke beyond passing dishes and the scrape of forks against plates. Everyone too hungry and too tired for words. The biscuits were impossibly good, flaky and warm, and Thomas was on his third before he registered that the others had slowed.

Enoch set down his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair. “We put the two survivors in the jail. Doc Morrison bound up their wounds—one took a bullet through the shoulder, the other in his leg. Neither one’s going anywhere. Sheriff says with our testimony and the telegram Mrs. Holbrook witnessed, there’s more than enough evidence to hang them both for conspiracy to murder.”

“As for Reginald...” Enoch’s jaw tightened. “Hayes was straight with us. He has no jurisdiction over an English lord operating from across the Atlantic. That’s our problem to solve.”

The silence weighed heavy. This wasn’t over.

“We need to wire Father.” Robert said it like a conclusion he’d reached hours ago. “Today. He needs to know Reginald has escalated to hiring armed men in American territory. Maybe Father can finally get the English authorities to do something about him.”