“In other words, she might die,” Richard said, speaking almost mechanically.
“That has always been a possibility,” the doctor said, “but now . . . perhaps a more likely outcome unless we can manage to bring her temperature down.” Lowering his voice he whispered, “Her aunt believes that she should be kept warm—that the fever is a good thing and that we should allow it to grow, which of course is a misconception. In my experience, the best results are achieved when the fever is reduced, but Lady Foxworth is in a state of panic and refuses to listen to reason.”
“Then what would you suggest?” Spencer asked with the sort of calm that had long since departed from Richard.
The doctor hesitated briefly before saying, “She must be cooled, so perhaps if a bathtub can be brought up, then—”
“No,” Richard said. “That will take too long.”
“I agree,” the doctor said, “but what else . . .”
He wasn’t given a chance to complete his question as Richard pushed past him, entering Mary’s room in a few short strides.
“Mr. Heartly,” Lady Foxworth gasped. “You should not be in here. It is not proper!”
His eyes fell on Mary, on the sheen of perspiration veiling her forehead, her flushed cheeks and the agitated state she appeared to be in as she threw her head from side to side, groaning in between. “To hell with propriety. This is about saving her life.”
“We are doing all that we can,” Lady Foxworth said, her voice filled with despair as she tucked the blankets around Mary and wiped her brow with a cloth.
“No. She needs to be cooled, not heated.” Richard moved toward the bed, his hands reaching for Mary’s blankets.
Lady Foxworth caught him by the wrist. “Please,” she implored with a shake of her head. “I cannot bear the thought of losing her.”
He understood her grief. “Neither can I, which is why I can assure you that I intend to make her better by whatever means necessary. You may disagree with my method, but consider her progress this past hour while you have been trying to keep her warm beneath these blankets. Has her condition improved or worsened?”
A few seconds passed and then, choking back a sob, Lady Foxworth drew back and nodded, her expression one of utter defeat. “Very well. Do what you think best.”
He didn’t wait another second, tossing aside the blankets so that only the sheet remained. Leaning forward, Richard tucked it around Mary as he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the door, her head resting firmly against his chest.
“Where are you taking her?” Lady Foxworth asked from somewhere behind him, but Richard didn’t stop to give her an answer, nor did he deign the doctor or his brother with an explanation as he passed them both on the way out of Mary’s room. Instead, he practically ran as fast as his feet could carry him, careful not to stumble on the stairs.
A few guests who were making their way up to bed stopped to look at him, their eyes widening when they saw that he was carrying Mary. Some even asked what was wrong, but Richard ignored them all as he hurried toward his destination, exiting onto the terrace and crossing the lawn. With a leap, he plunged into the lake until they were shoulder deep in the icy water.
Air rushed from Mary’s lungs and he instinctively hugged her closer. “Relax,” he whispered against her cheek. “This is good for you. It will make you better.”
She said nothing, responding only with a deep murmur as she pressed herself against him, the sheet and her chemise floating around them, bright against the enfolding darkness. As the water settled, Richard could hear the frogs croaking from the embankment. Fully clothed, the weight of the water made standing upright a chore, his feet constantly slipping against the pliable mud beneath him.
With no way in which to tell the time, he had no idea how long he’d been standing there until Lady Foxworth called to him from the embankment, inquiring about Mary’s welfare. Turning, Richard saw that Lady Duncaster was with her, both ladies cast in tones of gray while light from the lantern they’d brought flooded the ground at their feet.
“I believe this is helping,” he said, his teeth chattering slightly as he spoke.
“You are putting your own health at risk,” Lady Duncaster remarked.
“I would risk a great deal more than that if it means that she will live,” he replied, clutching Mary closer. Her heartbeat, so faint against his chest, assured him that she was still alive even when she seemed so lifeless in his arms. “Do you know what time it is?”
“One o’clock,” Lady Duncaster said. “Would you like me to leave the lantern here?”
When he nodded, she set the lantern down on a nearby bench before taking her leave along with Lady Foxworth. Alone again, Richard lowered his lips to Mary’s forehead. She was still hot, though not as much as earlier. Kissing her cheek, he began to straighten himself when she suddenly squirmed, struggling against him and splashing at the water.
Her eyes flew open, startled no doubt by the cold wetness surrounding her.
“Mary!” Her name was tightly spoken as he tried his best to remain upright—a difficult task when she started kicking her feet. “I have you, Mary. You are safe. Stop fighting me!”
With a sob, she clawed at his shoulders as if holding on for dear life. “What happened?” The words were barely audible, ending on a groan of anguish.
“You were shot,” he said as he shifted her to a more comfortable position. “It was an accident.”
Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back against his arm, her breaths more rapid than before. “Who?” was all she managed to ask.
“Your brother.”
When she said nothing in response, Richard thought she’d lost consciousness again until he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and realized she was crying. “You developed a fever,” he explained, knowing how confused she must be, “that is why I brought you here. We have to try and cool you down.” Swallowing his concerns he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“It hurts like the devil,” she said. “Much more so than when I ran toward you and . . . I cannot remember what happened next.”
“You collapsed.” When she just nodded, he added, “We should stay here a while longer, I think—at least until your fever has dissipated.” She didn’t reply to that, though she pressed her cheek to his chest as if trying to snuggle closer. Dipping his mouth to the top of her head, he began humming a low tune, soothing her with the sound of his voice.
They remained like that for what seemed like forever until she suddenly shifted again. “I think I would like to return to my bedchamber,” she said, her body shivering as she spoke.
Richard expelled a deep breath. If she was feeling cold, then perhaps . . . Pressing his lips to her forehead once more, he found her feeling cool to the touch. “Very well,” he managed against the tightness in his throat, his voice breaking as he turned and started back toward the embankment.
“I love you,” she whispered as soon as they reached solid ground. “Thank you for saving my life.”
His eyes misted in response to her words and for a second he found it impossible to speak at all. Swallowing the fear that he’d felt for the past few hours, he carried her back toward the house. “I love you too,” he murmured, his boots sloshing heavily against the tiles on the terrace and then through the hallways of Thorncliff. The maids would not be pleased but there was nothing he could do to change that. Instead, he decided to focus on the wonderful fact that Mary would soon recover from her injury. “I feared I might lose you.”
“Just tell me that we will soon be married.”
Dropping his gaze to hers as they made their way back upstairs, Richard said, “I have the special license, so as soon as you are well enough, I intend to make you mine.”
A small smile graced her lips. “And all this time, I thought that I would be the one laying claim to you.”
Quickening his pace, he said, “If that is what you wish, then there is not a moment to lose.”
Her smile broad
ened. “Apparently you were correct when you said that duels can be a terrible inconvenience. This one has ruined my entire week!”
He couldn’t help but laugh, pleased by her ability to spar with him after all that she had been through. Confident that all would soon be back to normal, he returned her to her bedchamber and the continued care of the doctor and Lady Foxworth.
When Mary returned downstairs a couple of days later, she was met by her aunt who’d left her side the previous evening at Mary’s insistence.
“You are looking increasingly well,” Lady Foxworth said. “How are you feeling today?”
“A little sore,” Mary told her as they strolled through one of the hallways together, “but I suppose that is to be expected.” Taking her aunt by the arm she added, “Thank you for all that you did for me after . . . You took very good care of me.”
“Not good enough, it would seem. Had it not been for Mr. Heartly, things might have gone differently. He was right to take you down to the lake when I wanted to keep you in bed. Honestly, I cannot recall seeing a man more terrified than he was that night when he thought he might lose you.” Placing her hand over Mary’s she said, “He loves you a great deal.”
“As I love him.” They continued for a moment in silence before Mary decided to bring up a more difficult subject. “About Andrew—”
“You need not concern yourself about him.”
“Of course I do! What he did to Mr. Heartly during the war is difficult to forgive, not to mention that he almost killed me.” Frankly, she couldn’t recall ever being so furious with someone before.
“He committed fraud,” Lady Foxworth murmured, her eyes darting in every direction to ensure that nobody heard her, “against the king of all people. It would be impossible for us to keep such a secret without becoming partial to his crime, and once the truth got out, the scandal would be overwhelming. Which is why I have asked him to leave the country.”
Mary’s footsteps came to a halt. “Did he agree?”
Lady Foxworth nodded. “He left for Portsmouth no more than an hour ago with the intention of starting a new life for himself in America.”
“Good.” She was glad that Richard would finally be rid of the man who’d plagued his life for so long. “What about funds though? He will need money—some sort of income.”
“Mr. Heartly has assured me that he will have enough money with which to get by until he finds employment.”
Mary blinked. “Employment? I do not believe that Andrew has ever worked a day in his life.”
“Then perhaps it is time he started doing so rather than relying on others for support.” They resumed walking while Lady Foxworth dropped her voice to a low whisper so she could say, “Andrew has disgraced our family, Mary. Your parents will not fault me for making this decision. Especially not since Andrew was in agreement. He seemed genuinely remorseful when he left.”
“I think you made the right decision. In fact, I am relieved to know that Andrew will no longer be close enough to hurt those that I care about.”
“Or you,” Lady Foxworth stated. “He almost killed you, Mary!”
“Believe me, I am aware. His recklessness is unparalleled by anyone else I have ever known. To think that he almost robbed me of my life when it is only just beginning . . . I doubt I will ever be able to forgive him for that.” Blinking back the tears that threatened, she quietly said, “But in spite of my anger, I fear that I will one day regret not saying good-bye to him. I suppose I just wish that I would have had the chance to do so. After all, he is my brother and if he is leaving for America, I doubt that I will ever see him again.”
“That is probably true, but when I mentioned saying good-bye to you, he said that he would rather write.” Lady Foxworth sighed. “If you must know, I believe he was too ashamed to face you after everything that has happened.”
“I suppose so,” Mary muttered feeling raw inside. Neither of them chose to mention that even now Andrew was taking the cowardly way out.
“You have been a good sister to him, Mary. Indeed, you risked your reputation in order to help him.” Lady Foxworth pressed her lips together. “I do wish that you would have come to me for help though.”
“In retrospect, that would probably have been a wise decision.”
“One that would have stopped you from seeking out the stage.”
A smile flickered across Mary’s lips. “The truth is, I quite enjoyed performing at the opera. It gave me a feeling of accomplishment.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Lady Foxworth said. Looking at Mary, she added, “You are aware that you will have to stop performing now?”
Mary shrugged one shoulder. “Of course. In fact, I doubt I will miss it very much since I am to marry Mr. Heartly. I certainly will not require the extra funds. Besides, Mr. Heartly says that he will happily lend an ear whenever I feel like singing, which I daresay will be just as rewarding. You see, it was never the fame that I sought, but rather the freedom to do what I loved.”
“And you feared that I would judge you if I found out.”
“I knew that you would.”
Lady Foxworth sniffed slightly. “You are probably correct. That said, I would have helped Andrew to the best of my ability. Within reason, of course.”
“Which is what Mr. Heartly seems to have done.”
“And what might that be?” A masculine voice asked from directly behind Mary’s right shoulder. Turning, she found Richard gazing down at her with a warm glow in his eyes. Her stomach instantly flipped itself inside out.
“I—”
“If you will forgive me,” Lady Foxworth said, interrupting Mary, “I believe I see Mr. Thomas Young over there. Please excuse me.”
“It looks as though your aunt is embarking on a romance of her own,” Richard said as soon as Lady Foxworth was out of earshot.
“I believe she is quite smitten,” Mary agreed, accepting the arm that Richard was offering her. “I hope it works out.” They continued toward the French doors and out into the garden. “My aunt tells me that you have given my brother financial support so that he may start a new life for himself in America. Honestly, I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for that, especially after all the damage he has caused.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said, raising her hands to his lips for a kiss. “Instead, let us consider this chapter involving your brother closed.” Lowering her hands, he told her candidly, “I have spoken with Lamont and have asked for his forgiveness. As expected, he was not very pleased to discover that the guilt he has felt for the past five years was unfounded, though he did seem to understand my reasoning.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Does this mean that the past is finally behind us?”
“I believe so. In fact, I would like nothing better than to start discussing our future in greater detail.” A soft tremor whispered down Mary’s spine. More so as he leaned closer and murmured in her ear, “In case you were wondering, I find that I am looking forward to our wedding night with great anticipation.”
Heat rose to her cheeks and she instinctively dropped her gaze. Even so, she could not help but be completely honest with him and say, “So am I.”
“Then perhaps it is time for me to call the vicar so we can say our vows?”
Looking up, her heart almost burst with love for him. “I think that would be a most excellent idea.”
His response was immediate, his arms reaching around her and pulling her off her feet. Swinging her in a wide arc, his mouth drew into a roguish grin. “Whoever would have thought that you and I would end up like this?”
Laughing, she did not care that several guests had stopped to stare at them, no doubt appalled by their behavior. “I had my suspicions.”
“You did not,” he countered.
“Very well,” she agreed as they started back toward the house, “but I am glad that you chose to attend the masquerade that evening and that you asked me to dance. Had you not, this story of ours might have turn
ed out very differently.”
“And that would have been a terrible shame,” he told her seriously though his eyes conveyed a great deal of humor.
She could not disagree with him. Indeed, she had never been happier, because she knew now that she had found the perfect man with whom to spend the rest of her life, and it was the most wonderful and extraordinary feeling in the world.
The service, which was lovely in its simplicity, took place the next day at the Thorncliff chapel. It was followed by a small breakfast, shared only with immediate family and close friends and culminating with a delicious strawberry cake served with champagne.
“Shall we go for a stroll before readying ourselves for tonight’s ball?” Fiona asked with that bouncy tone of excitement that seemed to define her.
Mary looked to her husband. “That would be—”
“A lovely suggestion, to be sure,” Richard said, cutting Mary off as he placed his hand against her elbow, “but Mrs. Heartly should probably get some rest first. You must not forget that she has endured a great deal lately.”
Mary simply nodded, aware that her husband was deliberately trying to get her alone. The thought sent a rush of heat straight through her.
“Of course,” Fiona said, looking instantly apologetic.
Lady Duncaster on the other hand merely snorted and said, “Some rest indeed!” Which of course made Mary’s cheeks burn.
“Come,” Richard said, pulling Mary away from the others. “Nobody will fault us for wanting to enjoy a little privacy.”
Arriving upstairs only minutes later, they headed toward the suite that Lady Duncaster had allocated them now that they were married. “Oh,” Mary said as she stepped inside. “This is . . . perfect!” The door closed with a quiet click behind her.
“I have to agree with you,” Richard murmured, his voice conveying all that she desired as it rolled through her: comfort, acceptance, love.
Glancing in his direction, the sensation expanded, tightening her skin with awareness as the warmth of his gaze slid over her. “Will you always flatter me?” The words were softly spoken—a silver thread of emotion extending between them.
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