Page 20 of A Lady’s Guide to Scoundrels and Gentlemen (The Harp & Thistle #1)

D antes could perceive light, and he wondered why he felt like death but couldn’t open his eyes. His shoulder and back screamed in pain and he wanted to shout out because of it. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk.

“He’s running a fever,” a strange woman’s voice said, and it seemed to echo from some out-of-reach place.

Some male voice swore. “He’s already been through enough. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. He hasn’t even begun to recover from blood loss yet.”

Dantes felt dizzy, turned inside out almost. He didn’t know where he was, who these people were, why he hurt so much. Was he dying?

He came to again, this time perceiving darkness. The room was silent, but he wasn’t alone—though he didn’t know how he knew that. His ears reached for anything, any sound at all, so he could understand what was happening. He heard someone nearby breathing deeply, slowly. The sound and sensation caused vague images to swirl in his mind, but they didn’t materialize.

Lightness. Darkness. Lightness again. He didn’t know what was happening, why he felt so awful, why he couldn’t move. How much time had passed? Was he even alive? He sometimes heard voices but didn’t understand what they were saying. They were frantic, and this was when he felt fear. But otherwise, he felt nothing.

Something wet spilled down his cheek from his mouth. He smelled something pretty. Something deep inside began to stir.

Cold metal touched his lips. A woman was talking. He liked her voice. It was familiar and made him feel safe. Liquid hit his tongue and spilled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Lady Vivian,” a faraway male voice said, and his familiar voice coupled with that name stirred him inside a bit more. “It’s no use. We need to accept he’s not coming back.”

A third voice, this time a woman he’d never heard before, added in her agreement. “Patients generally do not come back from this, Lady Vivian. I’m sorry. It’s time you take care of yourself.”

“He simply needs a little water,” the familiar woman said desperately. Dantes felt the cold metal at his mouth again, then liquid spill out. “He’s dehydrated, and the fever might go away if he has water.”

“But he’s not swallowing it,” the man responded. “He needs to swallow it. The nurse hasn’t been able to get him to swallow it, either. You’ve both been trying for days now.” The man was quiet for a long time. “It’s a miracle he’s even still alive.” Another pause. “The priest is coming today.”

“No!” She whimpered as the cold metal came to his mouth again and the liquid spilled back out. “Try talking to him,” she said, her voice shaky and high-pitched. “Maybe he’ll respond to you. Tell him to swallow.”

“Lady Vivian…”

“I know it’s not going to work, but we have to try. We have to try, Ollie. It’s not over yet! I’m not giving up!”

“I’m not giving up, either!” Ollie shot back with anger.

“Then talk to him!” She went quiet. “It’s all we have left. Maybe he’ll hear your voice, follow you. I don’t know.”

Dantes sensed someone at his side. “Dantes, it’s Ollie,” the man said into his ear.

Ollie. Oliver. His brother.

“You need to swallow the water. If you don’t, you’re going to die, do you hear me?”

Dantes couldn’t respond and water spilled out of his mouth again. Ollie swore, then took a deep breath. “You know, Dantes, you have to get better. You need to be there when we reopen The Harp she was reading something but seemed to sense he was awake. She met his eye before looking at Vivian with a deep frown.

However, she didn’t say anything and went back to reading.

Vivian slept on her side and drooled in her sleep, and for whatever reason, that was making him misty eyed. Maybe because he almost hadn’t learned this about her. He wondered if she had slept nearby every night, but somehow already knew she had. Vivian had been there with him the entire time. They all had.

The following morning, he woke up drenched in sweat, the bed completely soaked. The fever had broken.