CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WAKE UP.”
Edward slowly pulled himself out of the daze of sleep as someone shook his shoulder. His groggy mind tried to make sense of his spinning surroundings and the voice flitting barely out of reach. For the life of him, he couldn’t lift his head from his pillow, and no amount of distraction could erase the aches and pains traveling through every corner of his body.
“It’s time to go,” the person said again, and finally, Edward’s unfocused gaze landed on a familiar head of blond hair, a pair of blue eyes staring down at him.
“Barnaby,” he croaked. “What hour is it?”
“Mid-morning,” he answered before crossing the length of his room and throwing open his clothing chest. One at a time, he pulled articles of clothing from within and tossed them onto the foot of the bed. “You can’t live like this. I don’t care how exhausted you are. You have to get out of bed.”
“I can’t.”
He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the ceiling spinning above him.
But then Barnaby threw a coat over his head.
As much as he wanted to brush it aside, his arms refused to move.
His friend’s head appeared moments later as he pulled the garment down. “You must really be tired.”
All he managed was a long exhale.
Cedric approached the bed, and on the count of three, they hefted Edward into a sitting position, dressed him despite his mumbled protests, and hoisted him to his feet. A sudden agony smashed into his skull and worked its way into his chest. Dying had never felt so awful.
When his voice refused to work, he held out a shaky hand, and Cedric placed an unstopped medicine vial within his fingers. Some of the liquid slopped onto the front of his coat, but he managed to get it mostly down his throat, cringing at the bitter taste.
The medicine helped with the pain while also making him sleepy. He wanted to disappear as far into the recesses of his mind as his body would allow, if only to escape a fraction of the agony.
With a friend on either side of him, they helped him descend the staircase one step at a time, each movement painful and tiring.
And when they entered the foyer of the estate…
Both Clara and Maxwell watched him with pinched expressions, their distress a mirror of the other. And little James… The boy watched him with tear-filled eyes. If only Edward could give him some reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“He should not be leaving home,” Clara protested. “Look at him! He can hardly stand on his own.”
“Oh, Clara,” Barnaby tsked, and Edward immediately caught onto the layers of charm he smoothed out of his mouth. “You have been doing such a wonderful job looking after him. You need a break. I’ll return him safe and sound after our outing.”
“And where, exactly, are you going?” Maxwell asked, arms crossed over his chest.
“To my home. His friends need to spend at least one last day with him before the snow falls in earnest.”
Still, Maxwell continued to frown, his worried gaze sweeping over him. “Have him back before dusk. Cedric goes with him.”
After agreeing to his uncle’s terms, they helped him outside. A chilly wind rushed over him, far too unpleasant when his throat cried out in protest. But he pushed through the cold and allowed the others to help him into Barnaby’s waiting carriage.
“Where are we really going?” Edward croaked out as he leaned his head against the back of the seat and gratefully accepted the blanket his friend draped over his lap.
“To make a quick stop at the palace. Or not so quick. I haven’t decided yet.”
“That’s the last place I want to go.”
“Then it’s the first place we need to stop.”
Why, oh why, is this the man I will have to accept? Vivienne lamented, pasting a smile on her face as Duke Hastings’ long-winded monologue about his dedication to the Mother Goddess transitioned into another detailed explanation about why horses were measured in hands.
She had no qualms about her future husband being rather religious. She also possessed no misgivings about all the interesting facts spouting from the man’s mouth.
But what she immensely disliked was not taking a breath in his lengthy speech to give her a chance to reply. The man cared nothing about her opinions nor about what she might like to say.
The moment the duke paused to take a sip of his tea, Vivienne cut into the one-sided conversation, “Duke, let me tell you about—”
“—and the horse was a beautiful breed, imported overseas from the finest breeder in all the world.”
Across from her, Sophia’s eyes widened as if sitting through the visit was complete torture, and she mouthed, By the stars, won’t he ever shut up?
Marcella feigned stabbing her ears with an invisible object, clearly growing impatient herself.
Vivienne laughed at her sisters but disguised it as a cough as she covered up the sound with her hand. Their mother glared.
Duke Hastings was unfortunately confident that everyone around him was interested in hanging onto his every word. His conversational skills were weak at best, and she despairingly knew that as his wife, she would get pushed to the background and ignored, only to do her duty to bear an heir.
A smug part of her took heart in knowing the first child would not be his. She hoped the baby came out with hair as black as midnight just to spite him.
Internally, she chastised herself for such unkind thoughts. Duke Hastings was not a bad man. She would be lucky to become a duchess.
If only it was what she actually wanted…
But she pushed the heartbreaking thoughts away and replaced it with another tight smile as the duke changed the subject yet again to drone on about a business trade he’d conducted with another kingdom.
Her eyelids were on the verge of drooping with boredom when a knock sounded on the door, and a servant announced another arrival. “Lord Barnaby Mavis.”
She immediately straightened, her gaze darting toward the door.
Moments later, Barnaby entered, giving a polite bow to each of them. Never in her life had she been so relieved for an interruption during a social visit, especially knowing that he might have brought Edward with him.
But as she craned her neck to glance into the hallway, she found it empty.
Her heart fell when she realized Edward hadn’t arrived with him.
“Forgive my intrusion,” he said, giving her mother and sisters a winning smile, enough for Marcella to snap open her fan and cool her heated face. When the man had married earlier that year, he’d broken many hearts, including her sisters’. “My wife, Ivette, is in the most dire straights, and has requested I steal Lady Vivienne for a few moments.”
“Right now?” her mother asked, clearly not pleased with the change of events. But when Barnaby flashed her another smile, the woman actually giggled and dismissed Vivienne with a wave of her hand. “Fine enough.” And then she turned to the duke. “You will forgive us for cutting this meeting short. Perhaps there is something you’d like to ask my daughter?”
No! Please, no. I’m not ready.
Nothing could ever prepare her for getting shackled to the duke. Therefore, she stood and curtsied, trying to slowly escape across the room. But then she tried not to grimace as he caught onto her hand and gave her fingers a kiss.
“May I call on you tomorrow morning?” he asked quietly. The intent in his eyes was unmistakable. Tomorrow, he planned to propose. Well, it was better than today. It at least gave her one more day to prepare for the inevitable.
Dread climbed her throat and turned to bile. It was all she could do to dip her head in what she hoped was an amicable nod. Once she was engaged to the duke, there was no turning back.
He deserves better than to be lied to, she thought to herself, guilt rising in her chest as she curtsied one last time and followed Barnaby out of the room. Although she didn’t like the duke, he wasn’t a bad man.
Barnaby stopped at the top of the staircase, and she glanced over the landing in search of a head of black hair. Disappointment rained over her when she only spotted servants quietly going about their tasks for the day.
“He won’t come in,” Barnaby said as if reading her thoughts.
“Why?” she despaired. “Does he dislike the idea of being anywhere near me so much?”
His lips thinned, and he shook his head, glancing around them before speaking quietly. “He cannot get out of the carriage. His body is too exhausted.”
“Oh, poor Edward. I did not realize the extent of his ailment.”
“He hides it well.”
They said nothing more as they descended the staircase, bundled up in their cloaks, and exited the estate. Her heart pounded an anxious drum in her chest when she spotted Barnaby’s waiting carriage. She didn’t know what to expect from their meeting. All she knew was it was time they were honest with one another.
For the first time in weeks, Edward was too exhausted to move a single muscle in his body. He rested his head against the cool wall of the carriage and closed his eyes, knowing with a certainty that the doctor was wrong.
He wouldn’t die in another few months.
He would be lucky if he made it another few weeks.
A choked exhale escaped his heavy lungs, the simple action of drawing a breath proving too difficult to muster. His limbs felt like lead. His head seemed too heavy to lift. Joining Barnaby on an outing had been a mistake. He’d prefer lying down for a spell to sitting upright in this miserable carriage.
The door of the carriage opened. Light spilled inside. And his momentarily relief transitioned into numbing shock when Vivienne peeked inside, a large smile spread across her face.
“Good morning!” she said cheerily, almost as if he hadn’t broken her heart days earlier.
He shot upright, his eyes snapping wide open as his body suddenly found an elusive reserve of energy. “Vivi,” he gasped.
Behind her, Barnaby helped her into the carriage and closed the door until only his face showed. He pointed to each of them in tandem. “You two are keeping monumental secrets from one another. You will not leave this carriage until both secrets are revealed.” A pause. “Good luck.”
And then he closed the door behind him.
Across from him, Vivienne let out a frosty breath as she took off her gloves and set them in her lap. “Well then,” she continued cheerfully. “Why don’t we start with your secret?”
Edward bit his lip, trapping his hands between his knees. The last thing he wanted was to witness her pitying gaze. He’d wanted to die with at least a small shred of dignity, to be remembered in her mind as strong and healthy.
“I’m sick,” he finally said as he lifted his gaze. By the lack of surprise in her expression, he guessed Barnaby had already spilled his secret. “I’m dying . I should have told you ages ago. It’s why…” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly when his heart began to act up, beating too quickly and making breathing difficult. “It’s why I pushed you away. I cannot bear to hurt you. And growing too close to you will inevitably hurt you in the end. It’s in your best interest to maintain your distance.”
Her bottom lip turned downward in a strangely alluring frown. “Oh, Edward. It hurts me to know you have suffered so much. I wish you had not felt the need to distance yourself from me. I would have taken every minute you would have given me.”
“That’s not fair to you.”
“It’s not fair to me that you have been pushing me away. You know just how much I care about you, how much I value your presence and your conversation and your friendship. I am now beating myself up knowing I unknowingly put you at risk by forcing you to leave your tower.”
“You never forced me.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “All right, heavily persuaded .”
Still, dragging her down into the murky depths of his condition didn’t sit well with him. “I still should have—”
“Eight weeks,” she murmured, interrupting him long enough to pull his hands out from between his knees and press them to her heart.
He suddenly found himself at a loss for words when she stroked the back of his hands and kissed his palm. “What is eight weeks?”
A shuddering breath escaped her lips as she lifted her gaze. Fear flashed through her eyes. Her face paled. “It’s been eight weeks since we were reunited. Eight weeks since we loved without abandon.” A pause, followed by another shaky breath. “Eight weeks that I have been carrying your child.”
Edward reeled back, every pore in his body icing over as his brain tried to make sense of her words. His arms fell limp when the shock made controlling his limbs difficult, but she never ceased holding onto his hands.
He stared back at her, searching in vain for a trace of laughter or a twitch of her mouth to indicate she might be teasing him. But he found nothing except seriousness and excessive worry.
“Tell me it’s not true,” he stammered. “Tell me you are jesting.”
But when she shook her head, he slumped back in his seat, still reeling from the unexpected confession.
“I’m scared, Edward,” she whispered when a reply flitted out of his reach. “My entire family will be ruined if anyone learns of it. That’s why my mother feigned illness, to stay at your home and give me a chance to woo you. But you didn’t want to be wooed.”
He pulled away from her and buried his face in his hands. What terrible timing. Of course, he never should have taken liberties with her in the first place. But what was done was done. What was he supposed to do? He was dying, and because of it, he was ruining her life.
“Eight weeks,” he murmured finally, meeting her gaze within the chilly carriage. “The baby would be born nearly two months earlier than expected should you marry today. ”
She blinked rapidly as if trying to keep tears from falling. “Why do you think I’ve been in a panic to find you?”
He groaned, rubbing a hand over his chest as his heart flipped and flopped inside him. “I didn’t know, Vivi. I didn’t know. You should have told me immediately.”
“Immediately?” Her hysterics rose exponentially as she blinked more rapidly than before. “You rejected me immediately when I asked you to seek me out for a dance.”
“What was I supposed to do?” he argued back. “My heart was too weak for dancing that day.”
“And you couldn’t have found another way to treat me rather than acting cold toward me? How hard would it have been to sit and talk?”
“I was in shock. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“No, no, no.” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “All this time, I have been fighting for you . And all you have been doing is pushing me away.”
“That’s unfair. Considering my lack of knowledge about your predicament, I was pushing you away to save you from a life with a man on his deathbed!”
It was the wrong thing to say, because the moment the words left his mouth, Vivienne burst into tears, sobs escaping her mouth. Rather than arguing back, she threw open the door of the carriage and disappeared.
Somehow, Edward gathered the strength he needed to pursue her. His head spun as he stumbled down the single step of the carriage. He ignored Barnaby’s grimace indicating he heard most, if not all, of their conversation. He ignored Cedric reaching out as if to steady him and chased after the woman he cared for most in this world.
The flap of green fabric drew his attention toward the entrance of the garden. He quickened his pace, his breaths coming too quick and his heart beating too fast. But they needed to have this conversation. Even if he had to crawl across hot coals to do it.
The moment she entered through green hedges, he grabbed onto her wrist to stop her from fleeing any farther.
“Answer me honestly,” he begged, gasping for air. “Is this why you have been dallying with the duke? To spite me? Or for your own protection?” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment when the world spun, and opened them to find that his vision refused to cooperate when he couldn’t keep his gaze steady. “You said he was unsuccessful at wooing you. Did you lie?”
“What other choice do I have?” she cried, wrenching her arm away from him and throwing her hands into the air. “I cannot reject him because what else can I do?”
Despite her anger and hurt toward him, he reached for her again, this time holding her hands more gently to try to convey his sincerity. Because he needed— wanted —to make this right. “Marry me . It will protect your reputation, and you will be provided for after I die.”
“Stop saying that,” she choked. “You cannot die. I won’t let you.”
His ears started ringing. A blackness attacked the edges of his vision like angry bees.
No! he shouted at himself, gripping tighter onto her hands to keep him grounded in the present. He could not have an episode now. This conversation was too important.
But even as he fought against it, his heart lost control within his chest. His pulse thrummed quickly through his veins. The darkness in his eyes gathered as thick, relentless clouds.
“I’ve always wanted,” he slurred, tipping precariously when he couldn’t seem to keep his feet beneath him. “I’ve always wanted…”
He dropped one of her hands to clutch his chest. He gasped in another breath, stumbling to the side as he tried to keep himself on his feet.
He heard shouting in the distance. Words escaped Vivienne’s mouth, her eyes wide with horror, but he couldn’t make out the sound when the ringing drowned his ears.
“Marry me,” he said again, pushing through his desperate proposal.
But then his body hit the ground with a thud, and the darkness overtook him.