Chapter Twenty-One #2
Letitia took a deep breath and forced her feet to move forward until she stood beside the bed.
There were so many things to notice that she didn’t know where to look first. He was sleeping.
She’d never seen him look so flushed, even after all his outdoor activities.
The man loved to ride his horse. His usually clean, light brown hair was matted to his head and darker than usual.
He had several days of facial hair growth.
Every so often, his body twitched, his head moved from side to side, and he moaned.
He was wrapped in blankets so that she couldn’t see the wound on his leg.
The leg would be wrapped in a linen cloth to keep it clean.
Part of her wanted to see the infected flesh for herself, but she would trust the doctor, as Tremont had told them to.
Besides, what did she know about caring for wounds?
Nothing. His hand was visible, poking out from the side of the covers, and she curled her hands around it.
The palm of his hand burned against hers, no doubt from his high fever.
She stood, holding his hand, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks.
The large, strong, and vital Greyson seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a sickly man with none of the vibrancy Greyson had.
Her thoughts turned dark. What would her world be like if he died?
Could she survive another broken heart? She had loved Rutherford, but that love couldn’t compare to the all-encompassing love she had for Greyson.
Only two people filled her heart to near bursting—Simon and Greyson.
Would the half that loved everything about him continue to beat if he no longer breathed?
Could a person keep living if half their heart died? She would have to, for her son’s sake.
What would happen to his parents? His sisters? Who would take over his father’s title if he died? A sob escaped her, and she didn’t care. Charlotte brought a small chair to the bedside. “Sit before you fall.”
“Thank you,” she sobbed as she sank into the small wooden chair, never breaking the bond between her hands and Greyson.
“I’ll leave now and give you some privacy. Ring the bell if you need anything.”
Letitia’s eyes never left Greyson’s sleeping form, but she knew from the sound of her soft footfalls that Charlotte had left the room.
Letitia continued to hold his hand and watch every twitch and subtle movement his body and face made as he slept.
His breathing appeared labored, which she knew was due to his fever.
Time ticked on, and she listened to the clock on the wall.
Eventually, the sound faded, and all she could hear was his breathing and the rustling of the sheets and blankets as he moved.
Once or twice, he shifted his injured leg and moaned in his sleep.
The pain was obviously great if it penetrated his slumber.
Even in sleep, his body recognized the injury.
Several times, Letitia was startled to hear her name escape his dry lips.
Whatever he was dreaming about bothered him greatly, as he moaned and kept repeating the words, “Forgive me.” She had a feeling he was apologizing for something far more intense than the one lie she’d caught him telling.
Could it be about his involvement in the Black Knights?
Another lie by omission. She had heard the reasons he’d claimed for his disappearances from both his sisters and himself.
More lies, but she understood now his need for them.
He couldn’t risk his life or the lives of the other Black Knights if their existence became widely known.
Because he was a member of the Black Knights, he now lay in bed with a dangerous infection and a wound that could very well end his life.
His loyalty was admirable. She sobbed loudly again, bent forward at the waist, and rested her cheek on their joined hands.
Her tears leaked onto their hands and the blanket.
She would try her best not to think his lie would lead to his death.
“Don’t cry,” Greyson said in a hoarse voice.
She stopped breathing, waiting to hear whether he would speak again, confirming she hadn’t imagined hearing his voice.
“Letitia, please don’t cry,” he whispered, allowing her lungs to take in much-needed air.
“Greyson,” she gasped, lifting her head and wiping the tears from her eyes so she could see him clearly. When she looked into his dull, green eyes, full of remorse and plagued by pain and fever, she sniffed and smiled. Her heart sped up with hope. “You’re awake.”
His dry lips curled into a weak smile. “I am.” He used his free hand to cup her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”
She covered his hand with one of hers and leaned into his gentle, searing touch. “There’s no place I’d rather be than by your side.” Unabashed tears trickled from her eyes. “You’ve given everyone quite a fright.”
He licked his cracked lips and inhaled. His chest shook with the effort. “Not my intention. The Black Knights are the peacekeepers. We try to avoid shedding any blood.”
“So Knight has explained.” She quickly added, “We have been sworn to secrecy.”
“We?” he closed his eyes.
“Hunter and your sisters.”
“Hmmm.”
“The Black Knights have nothing to fear from us.”
He inhaled and exhaled, and she heard a rattling in his chest. She frowned.
Had the infection spread to his lungs? Oh, dear God, lung infections were bad.
Very, very bad. Clarice’s husband, the Duke of Stanton, nearly died when an infection from a gunshot wound spread to his lungs when he was a young man.
It took him months to regain his strength.
She fought the panic that threatened to overtake her emotions. It wouldn’t do any good for Greyson to see her frightened. It took everything to control her emotions and remain calm. At least on the outside. “Do you need anything?”
“A drink.”
On the table next to the bed sat a glass of water and a bowl of what looked like broth. She picked up the bowl and spoon, then took a sip to confirm the contents. It was cold, but it would do. “I have broth for you. Can you lift your head?”
He raised his head just enough for her to give him several spoonfuls of chicken broth. He rested his head back on the pillows. “Thank you,” he said, sighing and closing his eyes. “Forgive me for lying to you the night I hurried from your house. I had no choice.”
“I know that now. Rest. I’m calling for the nurse,” Letitia said, rising from the chair and going to pull the tassel on the wall. Several moments later, a maid entered the room and curtsied.
“How may I help you, my lady?”
“Could you please send for Nurse Pendergrast?”
“Yes, my lady.”
The maid hurried from the room, and the nurse returned minutes later. By then, Letitia had returned to Greyson’s bedside, sat in the chair, and held his hand as he’d fallen back to sleep.
The nurse approached the bed. “Did he wake up, my lady?”
“Yes, for a brief time. I gave him several spoonfuls of broth.”
“Good. He needs to keep up his strength.”
“I’m afraid for his lungs. I heard them rattling.”
“Yes. It’s not a good sign. Doctor Hanson is due to arrive soon. We are watching him closely and doing all we can.”
“Thank you,” Letitia said, standing. She placed her hand on Greyson’s cheek, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying.
“Thank you,” she said again to the nurse as she took her leave.
Her legs barely held her up as she made the trek out the door and into the hall, where she leaned against the wall.
She wrapped her arms around herself, bowed her head, and gave in to her despair.
How had Greyson, over the course of several days, come to be on death’s door?
Soft voices and footsteps in the corridor had her raising her head and swiping away her tears. Hunter, Anastasia, and Aurora came into view. They would learn soon enough how sick Greyson was.
“How is he?” All three asked at once, their expressions hopeful.
She tried to school her features, but failed miserably as her face fell and tears continued to fall.
How many tears could one cry? “It is bad. Go see him.” They entered the room, and Letitia stayed where she was until she felt she could rejoin Knight and Charlotte in the drawing room.
She joined them a few minutes later to find them sitting together on the settee, with a fresh serving of tea, sandwiches, and fruit and cheese on the table between the two sofas.
Knight stood as Letitia entered the room, looking hopeful. “How is he?”
“I don’t know. But there’s a rattle in his lungs that worries me,” she said.
“Sit, Letitia, before you collapse,” Knight said, wrapping an arm through hers and escorting her to sit beside Charlotte, where he previously sat.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Knight. I prefer Knight.”
“Even by those who know nothing about your club or the Black Knights?”
“I don’t socialize with many people who don’t know about one or the other of those things,” he said, his dark eyebrow raised. “For obvious reasons.”
It was strange how the more times she came into contact with him, the less she focused on the mask hiding his burn scars, and the more she saw the whole gentleman. The mask was just a part of him, the only way she’d ever known him.
“I see.” And she did. She could imagine the stares he would draw at a ball. Charlotte poured her tea and placed two tiny sandwiches on a plate for her.
“You should eat something, my dear,” Charlotte said, looking concerned. “You are very pale.”
“Thank you.” Letitia picked up the cup of tea and sipped. If her stomach settled after she drank it, she would risk some food. “When is the doctor due back?”
Knight paced the room, sipping from a glass that looked like brandy. “Soon. I sent a footman to fetch him.”
“I’m glad.”
“Did he wake up when you were with him?” Charlotte asked, stood, went to the sideboard, and returned with a decanter of golden liquid, splashing a dash into both their teas. “I think we could use a little brandy to settle our nerves.”
“Thank you,” Letitia said, wholeheartedly agreeing.
“He did wake up. He seemed lucid. Had some chicken broth, then fell back asleep. My imagination is running wild with concern.” All her emotions were muddled, making it hard to sort things out.
She didn’t often panic over little things, like when her son caught a cold.
However, given what Knight said about the rusty, dirty pitchfork, there was much to be concerned about for Greyson.
“Both Charlotte and I discussed our concerns about his lungs. I have to keep believing that Greyson is strong and a fighter, and that he will be out of that bed, walking around, and riding his horse in no time.” He paused and looked right at her, his dark eyes filled with guilt and sorrow.
“I can’t allow myself to think otherwise. ”
She understood his dilemma. As the leader of the Black Knights, he felt responsible for his Knights.
He took anything that befell them as a personal affront.
He believed he was responsible for whatever happened to them.
Just as he felt responsible for the men who served under him in the Navy. The man had a huge heart.
A footman entered the drawing room, spoke briefly with Knight, and then left. “Doctor Hanson has arrived and gone up to see Greyson.”
A tiny bit of Letitia’s insides eased at the doctor’s return.
Moments later, Hunter, Anastasia, and Aurora entered the room.
Greyson’s sisters looked a mess, with red, blotchy faces and swollen eyes from crying.
She suspected it was very much what she must have looked like when she’d entered the drawing room and Knight hurried to her side to assist her in taking a seat.
Hunter, pale and worried, had an arm around each of the twins, and the three of them squished onto the vacant settee opposite Charlotte and her.
Knight hurried over with an empty glass, splashed some brandy into it, and handed it to Hunter.
“You look like you could use this.”
“Thank you,” Hunter said, downing it in one swallow.
In the meantime, Charlotte poured tea for the twins, adding a splash of brandy to each cup.
Anastasia and Aurora gladly picked up their teas and took deep sips.
Letitia could only imagine how they must be feeling. Their only brother was lying in bed, his leg wounded and very sick from an infection.
“The doctor’s here,” Hunter said as he helped himself to another pour of brandy, this time sipping it.
“Did he awaken while you were there?” Letitia asked.
“Yes,” Aurora replied. “He’s worried about Mother and Father and about us.” She paused, finished her tea, and set the cup and saucer on the table. “I told him we’re fine, and he should just get better so I can beat him in a horse race.”
“Oh, what did he say about that?” Letitia asked.
“He laughed, then had a coughing fit and gasped for air.” Aurora wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ve never beaten him in a race, but I had to say something.”
Anastasia took her sister’s hand in her own. “It was the perfect thing to say.”
“It was,” Hunter agreed. “You know how he is about his horse. I’m surprised he hasn’t joined Stanton in opening his thoroughbred farm. Stanton asked him. I believe it’s only a matter of time before he’s as thoroughbred-racing crazy as Stanton. I may have to join them as well.”
Letitia knew Greyson loved horses and racing, but she didn’t know that Stanton had asked him to partner in his thoroughbred farm.
She believed he would excel, and if Hunter joined them as well, the three of them would produce some of the fastest thoroughbred horses ever.
All it would take was for Greyson to recover and keep his leg.
She worried about him if the doctor had to amputate.
Sometimes, when an infection set in, they remove the infected appendage to save the patient’s life.
However, she believed the infection had already spread, and removing the leg now would not do any good.
If the doctor found he needed to remove his leg, would Greyson come to terms with it? It wouldn’t matter to her whether he had two legs or one. All that mattered was that he was alive so she could love him for the rest of their lives, however long that may be.