Page 62 of Venus in Disguise

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Ash said, sounding wretched. “Hold on to me, darling. There’s a good girl.”

His voice was gentle as he wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her into his arms, treating her delicately as if she were made of spun sugar.

Narcissa sobbed and pressed her mouth against his shoulder.

“The club?” a familiar voice asked but Ash gave a curt refusal.

“No. I need to get her to my mother. I don’t trust any damned quack doctor. She’ll know what to do.”

His tone was businesslike, but Narcissa heard something else behind the taut words and knew he was afraid for her.

“There’s a hackney there, look.”

She closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing as the pain in her side intensified.

“Ash?” she whispered, remembering there was something urgent she needed to tell him.

She needed to warn him, except suddenly everything was a jumble in her head. What had been so important? Was he in danger, or was it her? The horrifying scene, the terror she had experienced had her heart pounding madly, and incoherent thoughts tumbled in her mind; Try as she might, she could not grasp at them. She shivered, burrowing closer against his warmth as the freezing night air seemed to invade her veins, chilling her to the bone.

“Don’t try to talk, sweetheart. I’m taking you home. It will be all right, I promise. Just hold on.” Warm hands stroked her face tenderly, pushing the tumble of curls that fell down into her eyes out of the way. “Everything will be all right,” he said again, keeping his hand pressed firmly against the wound on her side.

Narcissa closed her eyes, drifting for a while. Waking with a start, she noticed the sway of a carriage, her senses registering the burning pain, and beneath that encompassing throb of heat, Ash’s warm body close to hers, cradling her carefully in his lap.

“Hurts,” she whimpered, feeling like a petulant child, wanting him to make it stop.

His voice cracked as he bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. What were you doing there? Why did you come?”

“Richmond!” she said, suddenly galvanised by the idea he was in danger. “My b-brother—”

“It’s all right,” he soothed her, his voice gentle.

“No, he’ll hurt you,” she said, sobbing with anxiety. “He’s spiteful, he’ll—”

“Hush, my love. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine, and I promise you, I won’t ever fight again.”

“You won’t?” she repeated, a little stunned by the sudden turnabout. “B-But you said—”

“If you get well, I won’t ever fight again,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “But you must promise me, Narcissa. Promise me to get well—”

“Ash?” she said, feeling suddenly giddy. The events of the day seemed suddenly overwhelming, and exhaustion swept over her. The pain in her side was throbbing like fury, making her feel sick, and she was so terribly cold. “Ash—” she said again, and then closed her eyes as darkness swept over her.

Ash had never been so glad in his life to get to his parents’ home. He wished with all his heart that Nani Maa still lived, for his grandmother would have known just what to do to care for Narcissa, but she had passed her knowledge onto his mother, as she had to Vivien, and he knew they would do whatever it took to help Narcissa. Though the wound had not looked so terribly deep, there had been enough blood to scare him to death and he had been too terrified to investigate and risk doing further harm, or cause Narcissa undue pain.

Larkin jumped down ahead of him and hammered on the front door hard enough to wake the dead. A startled footman opened the door and Larkin told him to wake Lord and Lady Cavendish at once as Ash tried to climb out of the carriage without jostling his wife.

She had fainted on the journey, which had terrified him until Larkin had assured him her pulse was strong if rather rapid.

Ash carried her up the stairs, kicking open the door to what had once been his room whilst voices came from his parents’ bedchamber. Moments later, his mother appeared, tying the sash of her dressing gown as she hurried in.

“Whatever has happened?” she asked, her face a mask of concern as she looked at his stricken face.

“Help her,” Ash begged, his eyes blurring with tears as the fear that he might lose Narcissa before they had even begun tore at his heart. “Please, help her.”

“Oh, my boy. Of course, I shall. Move aside now. Let me see… Good heavens, the poor child. Who did this?”

“Her brother. He meant to kill me, but… but Narcissa—”

Ash swallowed hard as a firm hand settled on his shoulder. “Deep breaths, son. Narcissa will need you to be strong for her.”