Page 68 of His Temporary Duchess

“I…” The world twisted dizzyingly.

“You’re hurt! Oh, my darling.” Tears streaked her face. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it.”

“Shh.” Every word felt an effort. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right. Jordan, come and help!” She looked over her shoulder, no doubt looking for the coachman, but Sebastian couldn’t have her facing in any other direction. He reached for her face, skating his fingers along her jaw even as black ate at the corners of his vision.

“Eleanor,” he whispered. “I love you.”

He knew no more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Eleanor sat by Sebastian’s bed, a cloth in her hands. His skin appeared waxy, dotted with sweat, and she bathed his forehead.

“You fool,” she whispered, and when he didn’t react, she clasped her hands in her lap again. The physician had arrived and left; there was nothing she could do now but wait for his fever to break.

She prayed it would.

After everything they had been through, fate would be too cruel if it stole him from her now—just when she had gained him.

He stirred, and she looked back over him, examining him closely. His long, dark hair clung to his damp neck, and his eyes moved from below bruised eyelids. Although he had not been conscious since that moment in the street, it didn’t seem as though his rest was proving especially restful.

“Please,” she murmured, taking his hand and threading her fingers through his. “Come back to me. I already reconciled myself to losing you once—I can’t lose you again. I can’t. Please, my darling. Come back and tell me you love me. Come back and tell me you hate me. Just come back to me.”

In the hearth, the fire crackled, and she stared into his silent, waxy visage, clapping a hand over her face and doing her best not to give way into panic.

The door opened and Abigail pushed through. Olivia had offered to stay with them too, providing assistance where she could, but Eleanor had decided against it. Instead, she had tasked Luke with traveling to the manor for details, then relaying them back to Olivia.

At least that way, she could promote one match, even if it was not her own.

“How are you feeling, Your Grace?”

“I…” Eleanor blinked. How long had she been sitting in this chair? “I’m fine.”

“I brought you dinner. I think you should eat something, Your Grace.”

Eating was the very last thing on Eleanor’s mind, but she pinched her inner wrist. If Sebastian were well, he would tell her to eat. In fact, he would order to do so in that commanding toneof his, and she would have no choice but to obey, because she never did have a choice when it came to Sebastian.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the tray and forcing a few ashy mouthfuls down. “Thank you. You’ve been very good to me.”

“Of course. All the staff are hoping that His Grace pulls through. For both your sakes.” With a sad smile and a curtsy, Abigail left the room, and Eleanor stared at Sebastian’s slumbering form until she finally succumbed to sleep.

Sebastian’s dreams had been tangled, dark, and angry. Yet whenever he thought he might sink under the weight of them, he was always brought back to himself by a soft voice saying his name, or a cool hand on his brow.

When he finallydidpush through the darkness of his mind and open his eyes, he found himself in a new kind of darkness. Embers from a fire glowed in the corner of the room, tinting the world around him in shades of red. The shape of the room was familiar, and it took him a moment to understand that he was looking at his bedchamber back at the manor.

Eleanor!

His last waking memory had been of her. She hadn’t gone—he had found her. He sat in a panic, and a languid hand pressed at his shoulder.

“Sebastian?” his wife uttered, her voice so full of hope and disbelief that his heart fair broke from the sound of it. “Don’t move! Save your strength. Stay still. Stay quiet.” She eased him back into the bed. “Are you truly awake?” She struck a match and light flared, revealing her familiar face, eyes shadowed by exhaustion and grief.

He wished he could wipe the expression away. He struggled against her restraining hand. He couldn’t be still and quiet until he told her all the things he needed to. A strange panic rose in him. He’d wasted too many minutes already; he couldn’t waste a single one more.

“Eleanor,” he said hoarsely.

“Shh, shh. It’s all right.”