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“They were going to hurt you. Hurt all of us.”

“We stopped them,” Helena said gently.

She wanted to point out that Barbara was right.Allof them. Which included herself. Barbara had been in just as much danger as they all had. Instead, she grasped Barbara’s hands and urged her to look at her.

“Please do not do this to yourself, sister,” she insisted quietly. “As I said, this blame is not yours to take, and to try and do so will surely lead to madness.”

After a few more minutes, Barbara calmed down, and she excused herself to go check on Beau. Once alone, Ambrose turned to Helena and said, “this has been tearing her apart. Thank you for telling her she is not to blame.”

“It is the truth,” Helena replied quickly. “But keep watch over her, Ambrose. I fear it will take her some time to truly accept that.”

“You know I will,” Ambrose said firmly, standing up from the bed.

He then leaned down and kissed her affectionately on the forehead, and as he straightened, he sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets.

“I am assuming that you have not changed your mind about staying in bed?” he asked, giving her a look that said he already knew the answer.

With a hint of a smile on her lips, Helena shook her head.

“Right,” he sighed, taking a few steps towards the door.

“Let a carriage take you to him, at least,” Ambrose continued as he reached the door.

“I am assuming that is your plan?”

“It is at that,” Helena agreed, her brow rising up in challenge as her brother turned back to look at her.

The truth was out now. There was no pushing it back into the dark. They all needed to move forward, no matter the discomfort.

Ambrose sighed wearily, then nodded.

“Bring him back to us, would you? We all belong together.”

Helena’s heart stuttered at Ambrose’s words and his acceptance as he slipped quietly out of her room, no doubt on his way to be with his wife and son. Alone, Helena once more shoved the covers away from her, and took a tentative step out of bed.

Excitement rushed through her as she felt no trace of dizziness or pain. The poison was completely gone, vanished along with its strange effect, and she was fully herself again. Feeling empowered, Helena smirked as she twirled, easily finding her sure footing, and then marched to her closet to find a dress.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Your Grace, if you will not travel to your rooms, you should at least allow us to bring a bed in here,” Martha, his housekeeper and grand leader of his staff, said sternly.

Morgan raised an amused brow at the older woman. He adored Martha. She was a natural leader who kept his household running with efficiency, and as far as sarcasm went, she could easily keep pace with him. When she was angry though, the woman became a mother hen whether he liked it or not.

“I have everything I require here in the library, Martha,” he sighed, feigning exhaustion as he rolled his eyes.

“I understand why you wanted to stay on the first floor,” Martha tittered, going around the room pick up abandoned teacups and plates. “With your wound, I am certain stairs are a difficulty. But you need a proper bed to rest in. You need to rest, period!”

Morgan gave her a cheeky, boyish grin as he watched the older woman drive herself into a tizzy. Although he had sealed himself in the library, the room that held such precious memories of Helena, he had indeed done everything but rest. He had used that expansive space to exercise almost endlessly, forcing his body to sweat and transform through the pain that throbbed in his side.

He was fine. The twice-daily physician visits had assured him of that. His physician always made sure the wound was clean and remained well-sewed. There were no blown stitches or infection. The good doctor, however, agreed with Martha that his restlessness was doing him no favors.

“Is that not what I am doing now?” Morgan asked, waving a lazy hand over his prone body.

Martha gave him a warning look, as if he was pushing her too far.

“You only finally settled onto the couch when I came in,” she replied pointedly. Do not try to fool me, my boy. Your charm does not work on me.”

“Which is why I will always love you,” he replied adoringly, then chuckled as the older woman picked up a dirty napkin from her tray and threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest.