Page 51

“The weather has been improving, too. I had expected it to get a lot colder, but the sun was out this morning. It is a great weather to take a walk, and perhaps we should take advantage of it.”

This was the first direct invitation that she had extended to him, and her heart was beating fast in anticipation of what he would say to her in return.

At first, he was silent and only pushed around the food on his plate a bit more.

“You should go,” he said finally, much to her disappointment. “I have some work to attend to.”

“But wouldn’t it be good if you could join in?” she said. “I…”

She didn’t know how to say, but what she really wanted to tell him was that she missed spending time with him.

And that she only wanted him to be better.

But it felt a tad too scary to say that out loud, so she let the words die in her throat.

Say something, she thought. Anything. Ask him about the book he was reading, or the horses, or...

The door opened suddenly, and Martha stood on the threshold, white as a ghost and one hand pressed to her chest. “Your Graces. I am so sorry. I would not have come, but...”

Phillipa was on her feet immediately, “What is it?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“It is Theodore.” Martha’s voice cracked. “He has had a fever since noon, and it will not come down. I have sponged him and opened the windows, and I gave him the willow bark that Mrs. Glenn recommended, but it will not fall, Your Grace, it will only climb, and he will not take his milk, and I am so afraid...”

The two of them exchanged a glance, and at once, both of them were on their feet.

In the nursery, Theodore lay on his back with his arms flung out, his cheeks a deep, wrong pink, his hair damp and dark at the temples. His breath came in short, hard pulls. When Phillipa laid the back of her hand against his forehead, the heat of him went into her like a burn.

“Send for Dr. Hale,” said Gregory. His voice was very calm. “Send a footman on the fastest horse in the stable.”

“At once, Your Grace.” The butler had appeared behind them without a sound, as he did. He was gone before the sentence ended.

“Cool water,” Phillipa said. “As much as can be carried, and cloths. Martha, the window, a little, not wide. We don’t wish for him to get very cold.”

Martha ran for the basins, and Phillipa wrung out the first of the cloths and laid it on the small burning forehead, and then, because she saw that Gregory was standing over the cradle with his hands opening and closing at his sides, as if he had forgotten what they were for, she said quietly, “Take him and hold him. He will want to be held.”

He looked at her.

“He is not going to break,” she said. “He needs your arms, Gregory. Just steady ones. Whatever the rest of you is doing.”

Something in his face shifted, and he gathered the small, limp, burning body out of the cradle. He tucked him in against his shoulder, one hand spread across the back of the little head. And Theodore, who had been whimpering thinly, let out a long, shuddering breath and went slack against him.

Dr. Hale arrived within the half hour. The man had been the family doctor for many years.

He took his time as he listened at the small chest, and looked in the throat, and pressed here and there with two careful fingers.

“How long has been in this state?”

“Not long.”

“Hmm,” he said, continuing with his examination. ‘And have you given him any sort of medicine in the meanwhile?”

“No,” Phillipa replied. “We called for you immediately, as we didn’t want to take any sort of chance.”

“Yes, you did the right thing,” the doctor replied. “Was there a rash?”

“No, not that we know of.”

Even though the duke wasn’t contributing to the conversation, he was watching them closely. Phillipa noticed how he had his fists clenched, and his colour was still pale.