Page 18 of Memories Made At Midnight (Chronicles of the Westbrook Brides #9)

Still at the hunting lodge

NEAR DAWN THE FOLLOWING MORNING

O ne hand planted on his hip and the other cupping his nape, Cassius stood beside the improvised bed that Beatrice lay upon, four feet from the sooty hearth. Concern tightened his throat and worry made him press his mouth into a severe line.

If he didn’t fear discovery, and if the grimy chimney weren’t in such poor condition, he would have risked a fire, just for the much-needed light.

Beatrice hadn’t stirred after fainting.

Not even when he’d settled her on the two horse blankets Layton had hurriedly laid upon the wooden floor, untied her cloak, unbuttoned the top five buttons of her gown, and removed her stockings and shoes.

Both dogs lay next to her, their worried gazes trained on her wan face. Every few minutes, Teddy whimpered and looked to Cassius or Layton, asking them to help his mistress.

Cassius shared the dogs’ dismay.

Beatrice burned with fever and, other than wiping her with cool water from the stream behind the cabin, there was naught he could do. He glanced to the side to where his brother leaned against the stone hearth, arms folded, a look of consternation creasing his expression.

“She’s too weak to travel on horseback, Layton.”

Layton nodded but remained silent.

Cassius closed his eyes.

They could contrive some sort of litter to drag behind a horse, but that would slow them down and possibly make them sitting ducks for Highbury’s thugs.

If Beatrice had contracted the same illness as Millborn, she might worsen even more. His gut told him she needed medical attention, and she sure as blazes couldn’t get it in a run-down cabin in the woods.

Facing his brother, Cassius sighed. “You’ll have to go for help.”

“Aye.” Layton gave a solemn nod.

There was nothing else to do.

Cassius would remain here and care for Beatrice as best he could.

If Layton rode hard and nothing unforeseen caused a delay, he could arrive at Hefferwickshire by mid-morning. It might take an hour or two to get a coach ready, reach a physician, and round up men to accompany him back to the woods.

The return trip to this God-forsaken glen would be slower, but if all went well, and if the Good Lord smiled down upon them, help could be here by late tonight.

“I’ll leave now.” Layton straightened. “I’ll try to hurry.”

Cassius nodded, taking in their primitive surroundings.

The lone candle he’d located last night wouldn’t last more than an hour or two. Thank God Beatrice wasn’t aware of the spiderwebs, scampering little feet, or the bat that had darted around the small enclosure until Layton had shooed the terrified creature out the open door.

Layton crossed the room and grasped Cassius’s shoulder. “I don’t know what Miss Fairfax means to you, and it’s none of my business, little brother. But you plainly care for her, or you would never have agreed to this madcap scheme.”

Madcap, indeed .

“It doesn’t matter.” Cassius shook his head. “As soon as I’ve delivered Beatrice Fairfax to Hefferwickshire House, I’m washing my hands of the responsibility. You know I vowed to never become emotionally entangled again.”

Beatrice moaned and tossed her head back and forth before quieting.

“I know, and I understand.” Layton well should after Virginia had left him for another officer and tried to kill him to boot.

A few years back, he’d spoken of adopting a child but hadn’t mentioned it again, so perhaps he intended to live out his life alone, as did Cassius.

Layton tilted his head toward Beatrice. “But does she know that?”

Something that resembled a wry smile tried to wrestle Cassius’s mouth upward.

“Beatrice has informed me, quite succinctly, that she no more desires to marry than you or I do. I believe it has something to do with her illegitimacy, but she’s never said as much to me.”

“Interesting,” Layton said, his tone suspiciously neutral.

What did that mean?

Cassius narrowed his eyes. He needed to be more careful in the future. His brother already believed he harbored feelings toward Beatrice—something he hadn’t even admitted to himself.

Layton aimed his too-astute gaze toward their patient.

Perspiration dotted her pale face.

“I’ll leave my gun and ammunition.” He pulled a wicked-looking knife from his waistband and laid it on a rickety table that appeared as if it might collapse at any moment. “My knife too.”

Shaking his head, Cassius tried to hand the blade back.

“You’ll need something to protect yourself, Layton.”

Grinning, Layton backed away, his hands held up, palms outward. “I’m the soldier, remember? I know how to defend myself. You’re an artist.”

Cassius didn’t take offense at his brother’s unintended insult.

Layton gave the pistol a doubtful glance. “When was the last time you fired a gun?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Cassius lifted the Manton pistol, testing the weight in his hand. “I’m fully capable of discharging a firearm if necessary.”

Pray to God it does not come to that.

Layton turned his attention to Beatrice once more. “I’d strip her of that gown and wipe her limbs and face with cool water. Try to get her to drink a bit of water too.”

“I shall.” They’d found a bucket outside that wasn’t completely rusted out.

It was a good thing Beatrice wasn’t awake to comprehend her vulnerable state or how completely and utterly compromised she’d become. Only her fortune provided her a jot of leverage, because once word spread of her disgrace, as it surely would, Society would shun her.

Except for his family.

They would be there for her.

He suppressed a grimace.

It wasn’t fair of him to burden Mother and Father with Beatrice.

“I’d best not delay.” Layton pulled him in for a brief, but powerful hug. “If all goes well, look for us sometime late this evening.”

Neither of them mentioned what must be on both their minds… What would happen if the earl’s thugs discovered Beatrice and Cassius before Layton returned ?

“Cassius, if I don’t come back, travel north, keeping the sun on your left. You’ll eventually come to a main track.”

Cassius gripped his brother’s arm. “You’ll be back.”

Layton took his leave, taking a second horse with him to throw any trackers off his trail. It wasn’t as if Cassius could have bundled Beatrice onto a saddle in any event, but it brought home just how vulnerable they were.

Head cocked, Cassius stood just outside the hunting lodge, listening long after the hoofbeats faded away. The warbles and songs of various birds who called the woodlands home and the wind gently rustling the silver birch and oak leaves enhanced the natural serenity.

Which is exactly what he hoped to hear.

If anyone approached, the birds falling silent and the red squirrels’ kuk-kuk-kuk would sound the alarm.

Layton had already opened the shutters covering the cottage’s two windows, but for good measure, Cassius propped the door open with a rock. He’d be damned if he’d sit inside with the windows covered and the door bolted like a convict in an underground cell.

Sighing, he retreated inside and directed his attention to Beatrice.

Even though she couldn’t hear him, he spoke to her.

“I have to remove your gown, Beatrice, but I’ll leave your shift on.”

He kneeled at her side and laid the back of his hand against her fevered forehead. She burned with the illness that assailed her.

“You have a fever, and I must try to get your temperature down.” In his many musings about Beatrice, Cassius never dreamed he’d play nursemaid to this beautiful woman. “I promise I shan’t look upon you any more than absolutely necessary.”

As he set to unfastening the gown’s remaining buttons, he explained what he intended. “I’ll wipe you with a cool cloth when I’ve finished. It should help make you more comfortable.”

Nala lifted her head, staring at him with soulful eyes before once more resting her muzzle on her great paws. She heaved a forlorn sigh.

Cassius paused in his ministrations of Beatrice to run a hand down the boarhound’s back and to scratch behind Teddy’s ears.

“I know you’re worried.” He slid Beatrice a sidelong glance, drawing his eyebrows together in disquiet. “I am too.”

Shouldn’t she have roused by now?

It was hard to know if she was deeply asleep, her body fighting whatever sickness afflicted her, or if she was unconscious.

As he slid the gown down her hips and past her shapely legs, he forbade the artist in him to stare in appreciation at her well-shaped thighs and calves, strong and supple from daily walks, no doubt. After all, he’d just promised her he wouldn’t ogle her.

Stirring slightly, she moaned softly before a harsh cough shook her.

Worry clawing at his ribs, Cassius tossed the gown onto the table before hastily dipping a cloth in the bucket of cool water. After wringing the rag out, he gently ran the damp cloth over her face, neck, and shoulders, and then down her legs.

“Beatrice? Can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond, but her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

He glanced at Nala, and an idea took root. He pointed to the door. “Guard.”

To his immense satisfaction, the large hound promptly rose and walked to the entrance where she lay across the threshold, facing outward, ever vigilant. Not only could she hear far better than he could, but dogs’ sense of smell was vastly superior to humans.

The remaining horse snorted, the sound filtering inside the small structure as a few valiant rays of sun poked through the overhead canopy and timidly ventured inside through the open window casings.

After soaking the cloth in the little remaining water in the bucket, Cassius wrung it out and laid it tenderly across Beatrice’s forehead. He rose, clasping the bucket as he did.

Teddy stood, wagging his tail as he looked between Cassius and Beatrice.

“Don’t worry, little fellow. I’m just fetching more water.”

He needed to feed the dogs too, but they were down to a few pieces of bread, a hunk of cheese, and two apples. Not exactly a feast.

If Beatrice wasn’t so ill, he might try to set a snare or catch fish, but he dared not leave her alone for any length of time.

He tucked Layton’s knife into his belt. In these circumstances, wisdom decreed caution.

Nala sat up as he approached the door.

Cassius stepped through and then turned back. “Guard.”

At once, she resumed her diligent stance.

The stream was but a few dozen footsteps from the cottage. Once he’d filled the bucket as much as he could before it seeped from the sides, he glanced around and couldn’t contain his jubilant grin.

Stinging nettle and blackberries .

In the dusky dawn, he’d missed the plants.

Grandmama was an expert on herbs, and over the years, she’d shared her knowledge with her grandchildren, though none had the keen interest in natural medicines that their paternal grandmother had.

Nevertheless, Cassius remembered his lessons and knew that stinging nettle could help Beatrice, although he preferred using dried leaves for tea.

Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He’d need to retrieve his gloves from the hut and find something to put the leaves in, however, because touching them barehanded would leave his hands raw and itching.

He meant to gather ripe blackberries too. It wasn’t much in the way of food, but it was something.

Though he’d have to risk a brief fire to heat water for the tea, he felt more hopeful than he had an hour ago. Lengthening his strides, he hurried to the cottage. As he rounded the corner of the cabin, alarm raised his nape hair.

Nala no longer guarded the doorway.

He broke into a run, sloshing water over the bucket rim in his haste.

A couple of feet beyond the threshold, he slid to a stop.

Beatrice, her brilliant sunset-streaked curtain of hair framing her slender shoulders, sat on her knees in her filmy shift, her faithful dogs on either side of her.

Confusion and fear creased her still waxen face, and upon spying him, tears pooled in her magnificent, but lucid, hazel eyes.

“I woke up and n-no one was here,” she whispered brokenly, her voice a harsh rasp. “I th-thought you’d left me.”

Cassius’s heart lurched and swelled behind his ribs. He clenched his hands, fighting the overwhelming desire to race across the tiny cottage and gather her into his arms. To assure her that he would never leave her.

But he would.

He must.

Mustn’t he?

Bollocks and blisters .

He was on the verge of toppling into the abyss he’d struggled so hard to protect himself from.

“Layton went for help,” he said. “You are too sick to travel on horseback, so I stayed here with you.”

He lowered the bucket to the floor, and slowly, as if she were a frightened wild animal, approached her.

Lower lip quivering, she peered up at him.

Proud and vulnerable.

Hopeful but hesitant.

“I promised I would protect you, Beatrice. I honor my word.”

It had become more than that. Much, much more, though what and when, Cassius couldn’t say for certain.

He dropped to one knee beside her, and she flung herself into his arms. “I was so afraid.”

How well he knew what that admission cost this independent woman.

Reeling with emotion, Cassius wrapped his arms around her quaking form, whispering soothing words into her silky hair.

If he hadn’t already given her his heart, it would have leaped from his chest to lie at her feet.

I’m lost. Utterly and irreversibly lost .

Regardless, Beatrice would never know.

Because he’d taken an oath to never love again, and his word was his bond.