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“You are most welcome, Your Grace. I shall be back to check on the patient tomorrow.”

“Is there anything we should give her in the meantime?”

“When she awakens she will require some willow bark tea. You should also rub aloe cream on her bruises every eight hours.”

“We will do so.”

Robert went to sit by Georgiana’s side, taking her hand in his as the butler saw the physician out. He stared at her pale face and his heart hurt to see her that way, so small and helpless in the large bed. He clung to the physician’s words that she would be all right.

But something dark in the back of his mind whispered relentlessly in his ear that every woman who had ever cared for him had died. He bent his head over her hand and shook it slowly. “Please, youmustbecome well again,” he begged.

Deep in his subconscious, he heard someone laugh. It seemed to him to be the voice of Fate, laughing at his foolish hope that she would truly be all right.

He looked at her ashen face and wondered if he could survive her death.

Please God, no more.He begged silently as he gripped her hand fiercely. She did not so much as flinch.

“Are you there?” he asked, staring intently at her for any sign that she had heard him.

“Georgiana, can you hear me?”

She lay perfectly still, not reacting in any way. Robert shook his head in denial. The physician had said he had done all he could, and now all that was left to do was wait. He gently touched thebump on her forehead, wondering if she would feel it…but she did not react.

He felt his chest tighten and his throat constrict and realized he could no longer breathe. Blackness was closing in around him and he knew he was about to lose consciousness. He let go of Georgiana’s hand and got to his feet, striding to the window and taking big gulps of air as he moved about the room, grateful that he was alone.

The blackness on the edge of his vision slowly faded and his hectic breathing lessened. He sighed with relief, resting his head against the cold glass of the window and closing his eyes.

“Robert?”

He turned to see that Daisy had returned. She was hovering on the other side of Georgiana’s bed, wringing her hands. He tried to summon a smile for her.

“Are you worried?” she asked anxiously.

He dropped his head, not knowing how to answer.

“Robert?” Her voice was shaking.

He looked up and put on a strained smile. “Do not worry. Your sister will be fine.”

“You do not look as though you believe that.”

Robert huffed, shaking his head, “Let us just say that I was thinking of something else that brought me great sorrow. It is nothing to worry about.”

“Oh.” Daisy sighed with relief at Robert’s reassurance.

Robert turned away, wishing that he could convince himself of the same. Daisy walked over to the bed and sat down. She took Georgiana’s hand in both of hers and began to hum a tune.

Robert took a seat by the window, listening to her as he stared out of the window. The sound was comforting for a while until it started to sound like a funeral dirge. He began to pace by the window, not wanting to leave the room or snap at Daisy, but he was quite sure that if she did not stop humming, he might snap her neck.

“Is that a favorite song of hers?” he asked finally.

She—thankfully—stopped humming.

“No. it is just something my mother would sing while she did some gardening.” Daisy smiled whimsically. “My mother fancies herself some sort of gardener but she really does not do much more than dig holes in the mud and stuff plants into it. Georgiana used to come along later and redo it.” She huffed in amusement. “The difference would have been stark after she left, but we finally had the money to retain a gardener.”

Robert nodded, pursing his lips. “I see. She seems to have run around cleaning up after all of you.”

Daisy gave him a sharp look and Robert lifted his hand. “I apologize, I did not mean…”