Chapter Twenty-Four

The next day brought no change. In the afternoon, a full day after he was brought to her, she felt she might leave him to spend some time in company.

This desire was motivated by two reasons. The first was that she wished to thank Lord Stapleton, who had been assiduous in his attentions, offering her every comfort, even if she wished he would not.

The second was that she intended to find out precisely what had happened on the hunt with Nate. After his accident, the shooting party was being cut short; only Theo and Nathanial had been invited to stay. If she was going to find out anything, it would be that day.

Most of the party were in the drawing room when she descended. There was a cheerful game of loo at one end of the room, presided over by Lord Stapleton, and at the other end of the room, reclining gracefully before a roaring fire, was Lady Stapleton.

A sweep of the room convinced Theo she would do better avoiding the game, which afforded her no opportunity to speak with anyone in private, and so she advanced towards Lady Stapleton, who held up a bejewelled hand in greeting.

"Duchess," she said with her typical languor. "Pray sit with us. Tell us how the Duke is faring."

Theo took the chair Lady Stapleton had indicated, which just so happened to be beside Lord Brockenhurst, a pale man of indeterminable age. His hair was greying but his thin face was relatively unlined, and bronzed from days out in the sun.

Hunting, no doubt.

"The Duke's condition is unchanged," Theo said, "which I have to hope is good news."

"Indeed it is," Lord Brockenhurst said. "There can be no doubt. The age-old adage of no news is good news is true in this case."

She gave him a grateful smile. "I believe so."

"And allow me, Your Grace, to tell you how very sorry I am this came about in the first place. Shocking business!"

"Shocking indeed ," Lady Stapleton said, not to be outdone. "And to think it happened here of all places." She could not have said more clearly that she wished Theo and her troublesome, injured husband would leave, and Theo had to bite her tongue before she said something uncharitable.

"It was an unfortunate accident," she said, looking carefully into Lord Brockenhurst's face. He had been present at the shooting yesterday, and it seemed to her as though a flicker of discomfort crossed his face. "But it is a comfort to me—and to Nathanial when he wakes—that he has so many good friends."

Although she aimed this barb at Lady Stapleton, it was Lord Brockenhurst who flushed. "Exceedingly good fellow." Apparently embarrassed by the strength of his feeling, he coughed. "Wouldn't have wanted it to happen to anyone."

"Especially in such a way," Theo said. "The bullet has been removed, but he is not out of danger yet. "

"Suspicious dealings," Lord Brockenhurst said, then started. "Beg your pardon, Your Grace—forgot the company."

"Suspicious in what way?" Theo asked innocently.

"Shouldn't have said anything," he said, eyes widening like a trapped rabbit. "Don't heed me, Your Grace."

She tried to calm her pounding heart, though she was dizzyingly aware of the strength of her pulse in her neck and felt certain everyone around could hear it too. "Are you trying to say that hitting N—the Duke was not an accident?"

"Couldn't have been an accident," he said apologetically. "He was off to the right, see. And strikes me no one was aiming that way. Birds were all ahead."

"If no one hit the Duke by accident, it must have been on purpose," Lady Stapleton said with sudden zeal. She sat up, languidness forgotten. "You were present, Lord Brockenhurst. Who do you think it could have been?"

The unfortunate Viscount shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Can't say, my lady. That is to say, I don't know. It wasn't Lord Stapleton, though, I'm sure of that," he added earnestly. "He was beside the Duke the entire time and I was at an angle to see . . . there was no chance, Lady Stapleton."

"Well." She pinched her lips. "I'm sure I must be grateful."

"If you were at an angle to see it couldn't have been Lord Stapleton," Theo pressed, "could you see where the shot did come from?"

He shook his head emphatically. "If you want to know, speak to the beaters. Might be they saw something, or . . ." He tugged at his cravat uncomfortably. "Hesitate to suggest any gentleman here would wish your husband ill, Duchess."

"Of course not," Theo murmured, forcing her hands to unclench from around her skirts. If no one in the house had aimed at Nathanial, that had meant the shot, and the danger, had come from elsewhere. A servant, perhaps, paid off? A local man armed with a gun and instructed to secretly enter the estate?

She was no closer to discovering the culprit.

After a few more moments of idle conversation, she excused herself. Lady Stapleton seemed all too eager to send her away again, and although Lord Brockenhurst pleaded with his eyes, begging her to stay, she was resolute on returning to Nathanial's side.

"I have been away too long," she said as she stood. "Give my apologies to Lady Tabitha when you next speak with her. I'm sure she will be sorry to miss me."

Or at least sorry to miss the excuse of gossiping with her about Nathanial's accident and his chances of survival. That was just the sort of thing Tabitha would enter into with gusto.

"Duchess," Lord Stapleton said as she reached the door. "Are you leaving us already?"

"I'm sorry for being such poor company," Theo said, putting her hand in his as she held it out. He was a kindly man, really, and reminded her of the father she might have had, if her father had taken any real interest in her.

"That's not what I wanted to say," he said, squeezing her hand. "I have a daughter a trifle older than you, you know. Married, of course. Every time I look at you, I see her, and . . . I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"Nor I."

"But worrying yourself over him will not change his condition. And I would not want you to suffer over it. Allow my men to keep watch, and get some sleep, Duchess."

"You are very kind," she said with a small, genuine smile. "But I would not rest if I were not with him."

"Even a few hours—"

"Even a few hours," she repeated. "I know my limits, my lord, and I would beg you to trust them as I do. "

He nodded and released her hand. "Then I can only hope you will sleep tonight, my dear."

She nodded and went upstairs, dismissing Nathanial's valet and taking her place beside him again. A truckle bed had been placed in the corner of the room, but she preferred to sit beside him, listening to the way he breathed. At first, it was slow and steady, but as the hours passed, he became increasingly disturbed. He tossed his head, murmuring incomprehensible things under his breath.

"You must not," he muttered as she placed a hand on his forehead. "Do not touch her."

"I am here, Nathanial," she said, but no matter how often she tried to soothe him, his worries seemed to remain. She tipped some water down his throat, and when that did little to calm him, rang for a maid.

"Send for the doctor and wake Lord Stapleton," she commanded, feigning a calmness she didn't feel. "His Grace is feverish."

"Yes, ma'am." The maid bobbed a curtsy and she was left alone again. With Nathanial, who barely seemed a companion in his delirious state.

Lord Stapleton came almost immediately and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "How is he?"

"Not well, I fear." Theo was not often conscious of a wish to scream or sob, but today she wished she could do both. Nathanial lay prone on the bed beside them, blood leaking through the bandage as his movements disturbed his wound, and nothing she said could touch him.

"Dr Follett will arrive soon," Lord Stapleton said. "He will see us through."

Theo lay cloths soaked with lavender water over Nathanial's forehead, although he often tossed them off, and held his burning hand. Lord Stapleton, kindly yet impatient, paced the room and passed her instructions to the servants .

Thankfully, there was less than an hour of this before Dr Follett arrived, the same briefcase by his side.

"So he has contracted fever, has he?" he asked briskly. "Yes, I can see he has. I was afraid this would happen, but it is no matter. We aren't in too much danger yet."

"What can we do?" Theo asked, her voice a trifle unsteady.

"I've already contacted the apothecary and requested a saline draught and a paregoric solution, which he will send here directly. In the meantime, you may give him some barley water. And an orange, perhaps, if you have one."

"At once," Lord Stapleton said. "That is, I cannot be certain we have an orange, but we can acquire one, and the cook—I shall ask directly."

Theo fixed her gaze on Nathanial's face, which he seemed to be moving with increasing distress. "Don't touch her," he muttered. "I won't allow it."

The doctor seemed unfazed by Nathanial's murmurings; he merely took his wrist and felt for his pulse. "A little elevated," he said, "but not dangerous yet."

"What should I do?" Theo asked. "Tell me, sir. What do I do? If you order me from this room, I won't go."

The doctor gave her a small smile. "No, I fancy you won't. Be still, Your Grace; there is little more you can do than you are doing now. Pray he sleeps, for his sleeping will be calmer than his waking moments."

Nathanial's eyes flew open. "Thirsty," he said, his fingers tightening around Theo's hand. "I must—"

"Shh, my darling," she said, pushing at his shoulders when he looked like he would rise. He met her gaze, but there was no recognition in his eyes. "You will have water soon. Be calm, Nate, please."

"The draught will soothe him," the doctor said. "If not, the paregoric will make him sleep. It's too early to fear. "

When would it be not too early to fear? At which point could she give into the dread which crawled under her skin, begging release?

Lord Stapleton returned with barley water and an orange, and once he had consumed the barley water, Nathanial settled for a while. At dawn, as the sky paled in the promise of another fine day, the apothecary arrived with the two bottles the doctor had asked for.

"You may give him the saline draught when he is showing signs of distress," the doctor said. "Not more than every four hours, but do keep giving it to him. He may have tea or barley water as refreshment, but no wine."

"I understand," Theo said.

"I shall give him a dose of the paregoric solution now, which will make him sleep, and you would do well to sleep, too, Your Grace."

Theo attempted to protest, but Lord Stapleton added his entreaties, and she was forced to yield. She was tired, but nothing would have convinced her to give up her position beside Nathanial if the doctor hadn't pointed out she would be of little use tomorrow if she didn't sleep now.

She lay on the truckle bed provided as Nathanial's valet took his place once more, convinced she would not sleep. Yet the moment she closed her eyes, she was lost to the world.