Chapter Twenty-Two
Greyson had blinked the sleep from his eyes and couldn’t believe what he saw.
Letitia sat beside his bed, her hands blanketing his.
The warmth of her hands was almost more than his fevered body could bear, but he would die before he pulled his hand from between hers.
Before he’d opened his eyes, he’d known she was there.
Her floral scent and the sound of her breathing were familiar to him; he would recognize them anywhere.
Even as the fever ravaged his body, he recognized her as an extension of himself.
They belonged together. They completed each other, body, mind, and soul.
He prayed he had the strength to fight the pitchfork wound and the infection that no one needed to explain was running rampant through his body.
He only needed to inhale, and the pain in his lungs stoked his greatest fear—the fear of dying on his family.
Not being there to take care of them. Not being there to handle the burdens they would face if he were gone.
He trusted his cousin, but it wouldn’t be the same.
He didn’t know or love them as he did. And when it came to Letitia, whom he loved to distraction, who would look after her?
Her son, Simon, was many years away from being able to care for her.
If Greyson died, he prayed she would fall in love again with a gentleman worthy of her—one who would cherish and love her as he did.
Knight would step up and watch over her.
With him and Charlotte, he could rest easy knowing she had friends who cared for her, along with Clarice, Emmeline, Lilly, and their husbands.
She also had his sisters, Hunter, and Warren. She would be fine.
His chest ached. He wouldn’t be fine. He’d be dead. No. No. No. Don’t think that way. He needed to fight with everything he had. It was the only way to survive.
He forced his eyes open and said, “Don’t cry.” It seemed the perfect thing to say at the time.
He was so thankful she had come to him. No doubt Knight had sent word.
And if Knight had sent word, he was very sick indeed.
Forcing his fears aside, he enjoyed the time he spent with her.
Even if he wished he had the strength to pull her into bed with him and make love to her.
He had to believe the time would come when he could.
He would not give up. He would not give in to his fears and worries.
Even if he lost his leg, he would be alive and could still love Letitia if she’d have him, cripple and all.
And she would. She had the biggest heart of anyone he knew.
She loved him now, flaws and all. She would love him with one leg.
When she spoon-fed him chicken broth, tears welled in his eyes at the gentleness of her soul.
Everything she felt for him was evident, and he would fight with everything he had to experience her gentle soul again and again until they were old, with gray hair and wrinkles.
Until their grandchildren were old enough to marry and have children of their own.
This was what he had to remind himself he was fighting for.
Fighting for a future with Letitia. If he didn’t fight and death took him, those children and grandchildren would never be born, and how tragic would that be?
When she finished feeding him, he tried to keep his eyes open—tried to speak and tell her how he felt, how he loved her enough to reach into the sky and give her a star. But his body had other ideas, and he drifted back into sleep, full of fitful dreams and an uncertain future.
He’d woken again briefly when Hunter and his sisters visited, then again when the doctor arrived.
“Are you awake, Viscount?” Doctor Hanson said as he lifted his eyelids, and he moaned, shocked that moving them could hurt.
“Perhaps.”
“Good. Nurse Pendergrast and I are going to raise you just a little on a pillow so we can get you to take some nice warm broth.”
He had to keep sucking in air to keep from screaming because the pain in his leg was so intense.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “But if you are to keep up your strength, you need nourishment.”
“Open,” the nurse said.
He obeyed, and the warm broth slid down his throat and eased his thirst. They repeated this many times until he croaked out, “Enough.”
“You did well, Viscount. Now we’re going to try something to help your lungs,” the doctor said.
“We’re going to put a linen towel over your head while you breathe in the mist from the boiling water, which I’ve infused with a medicinal mixture.
Whatever you do, don’t move. I don’t want the water spilling and burning you. Do you understand?”
Greyson tried for patience. Not easy when all he wanted to do was sleep. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m putting the cloth over your head now, and Nurse Pendergrast will hold the bowl.
Breathe in and out. Hopefully, this will help your lungs clear.
This needs to be done often. That’s good.
Keep breathing it in. In case you’re wondering about your leg, it hasn’t improved, but it hasn’t gotten worse.
Before I leave, I’m going to repack it with a fresh poultice and clean bandages.
One more thing. I don’t know what His Grace has told you about me, but I use unconventional practices to help my patients. ”
The doctor saved Knight’s life when every other physician had given up and left him to die. Not Doctor Hanson. The good doctor never gave up, and that was why Knight was still with them. He cleared some of the mucus from his throat and whispered, “Do whatever you need.”
“I will, and I am.”
The tightness and pain in his chest and lungs lessened from whatever he was breathing in. It had a minty smell.
“That’s good for now,” Nurse Pendergrast said as the towel and the bowl were removed. She did something at the bedside table, then held out a cup. “It’s time for your laudanum. Please drink this.” When he finished dinking, the doctor and nurse helped him lay back down.
“Nurse Pendergrast will be taking care of your breathing treatments,” Doctor Hanson said, “Once the laudanum takes effect in a few minutes, I’ll tend to your leg. I’ll return in the morning.”
Greyson winced in pain and opened his eyes in what he thought was the dead of night.
Pain he had never known before radiated through his injured leg.
His head and eyes hurt as if a red-hot poker were being pressed against his temples.
Sleep was a much better option than being awake.
Several candles glowed in the room. As he glanced around as best he could, he saw the nurse sleeping on a pallet in the corner and Knight slumped asleep in a chair beside his bed.
He cleared his throat and whispered, “Knight.”
“Hmm, what?” Knight mumbled, sitting up straight and opening his eyes. “Greyson.”
“You look extremely uncomfortable sleeping in that chair.”
He stood and stretched. “I was, but I wanted to talk to you about what happened, and the only way to do that was stay here until you woke up.”
“I remember clearly what happened.”
“I’m sure you do. I wanted you to know that the lad who stabbed you made it home safely.”
“Good. I don’t want him punished.”
“I knew you wouldn’t. I’m still trying to get Prinny to agree to let the leader from that day go free.
Hanging him is not going to accomplish peace.
I won’t relent until he agrees. Meanwhile, don’t worry about the Black Knights or make any decisions about whether you will come back until you are back up on your feet.
” He touched his shoulder. “Sleep and get better, my friend.”
After Knight left, he closed his eyes hoping to shut out the pain and sleep.
*
For a week, this routine continued. Letitia watched as Greyson’s fever slowly subsided, his lungs, though still raspy, improved, and even his wound on his leg was less angry. When the doctor said, “He will keep his leg and live,” she nearly collapsed to the floor and wept.
Knight and Charlotte were so kind as to offer her a guest room to stay in and sent for clothes, which Jane packed and sent with her driver.
Letitia had sent a note to Mrs. Hartman about Simon.
She would miss him terribly and would make up for her absence when she returned.
She would plan a day doing all his favorite things.
Anatasia, Aurora, and Hunter went home but spent hours each day with Greyson.
On the morning of the tenth day since his injury, she entered his room and found his valet, Dalton, shaving his face while Greyson sat up tall in the bed, looking freshly cleaned, his hair damp.
“I’ll be back,” she said, blushing.
“No,” Greyson said. “Stay. Dalton is almost done.”
She stood near the door and waited for Dalton to finish, pack up his things into a valise, and leave the room, smiling as he walked by her.
“Why was Dalton smiling?” she asked as she crossed the room and lowered her hip on the side of the bed where his good leg was.
“Perhaps because I’m going to recover and he needn’t find a position as a valet in another household.”
She giggled. “I think it’s something else. You were whispering.”
“It’s a man-to-man thing.”
“I hear you’re being moved to Danbury Hall today.”
“Yes. I can’t possibly continue to impose on Knight.”
“He has been most kind and generous. I’ve packed my things and sent them along to Rutherford Manor.” She frowned, and her heart plummeted. “I’m going to miss being with you. Even when you were a terrible patient.”
“You can visit Danbury Hall every day. According to Doctor Hanson, I need to keep off my leg for another week. He made me these wooden crutches so I can get around until my leg is strong enough to support me and switch to a walking stick.”
“I’ll visit you every day.” She paused to gather courage, as she had news to share with him.
News she had no idea how he would take, though she was beyond happy.
“Now that you’re on the mend, I have something to say.
Let me finish before you interrupt—no need to look concerned.
I’m not breaking off our courtship. In fact, I’m hoping you will marry me. ”
He placed his hand on her cheek. “Do you have something to tell me?”
“My courses are a fortnight late, and I’m never late.
I also recognize all the signs from when I was pregnant with Simon.
” She held her breath as she studied his features, praying he was as thrilled with this blessing as she was.
His eyes widened, then softened. He grinned widely and caressed her cheek with the hand that rested there.
“Thank you,” he said in wonder.
“You enjoy thanking me.”
“I do, and I hope I never stop. You have made me so pleased with this news. His hand moved from her cheek to her stomach, where he rubbed her reverently. “Our babe. We need a special license.”
“I believe we do.” She leaned forward and kissed him with all the love in her heart. “Once you’re settled at home, you can apply for the special license. I have one more thing to ask, are you going to continue with the Black Knights?”
He didn’t answer right away. Eventually, he said, “That is something I can’t answer now.
You were there when Doctor Hanson said I may need a walking stick because my leg may never be right again and that riding on horseback may be too painful to bear.
When the time comes, we will discuss it together.
I would never want to cause you undue worry because of my involvement with the Black Knights. ”
“Thank you for including me.”
“Of course.
“Meanwhile,” she leaned forward once more, “I could use a few more kisses.”
“I’m yours, always and forever.”
*
“Are you completely sure you don’t want your double wedding at St. George’s Hanover Square?” Greyson asked Anastasia and Aurora while he sat in the drawing room on an overstuffed chair, his leg up on an ottoman, a week after returning from Tremont Manor.
Letitia stood beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder, waiting patiently for his sisters’ answers.
They had heard that Greyson had proposed, which was partly true.
After she asked him to marry her, he asked her that night, and everyone was so happy that the twins mentioned a triple wedding.
Neither of them thought they meant it, but eventually they did.
“We want our wedding here at Danbury Hall,” Aurora said. “Nothing would be better than sharing our day with you and Letitia. Soon to be our sister.”
Tears slid down her cheeks at the love coming from the twins. “What about Hunter and Warren?”
Anastasia giggled. “According to Hunter, the quicker we marry, the better.”
Greyson coughed, then chuckled. “Sounds like him. What about Warren?”
Aurora beamed. “He said if it’s what I want, it’s what he wants.”
“Then it’s settled,” Greyson said. “A triple wedding in two days since Warren also procured a special license. Their banns are one week shy on being read. Anastasia and Hunter met the three-week requirement.”
“Oh my,” Letitia gasped. “I have so much to do.”
“Us, too.”
“In two days, there will be three weddings. I’d better tell Cook,” Greyson chuckled.