Page 35 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife (Cinderellas of Mayfair #1)

“I saw her on the street and called out to her. I should have been more discreet, but she caught me by surprise. I must have startled her, too, because she fell into the path of a carriage.”

“Hell,” Hugo said aghast. “She could have died.”

“She could,” Stannard said somberly. “Lucky the driver wasn’t going at full clip and he only knocked Athene to the side. She’s got a broken arm and a couple of cracked ribs, but she took a bad blow to the head and that’s the worst of it.”

The dread in Hugo’s stomach sharpened. The news of her head wound was devastating. Guilt stabbed him, agonizing as a cut from a saber. Why the devil had he let this happen? He should have bloody well been with her. He’d been appallingly neglectful.

It required an almighty effort to speak. “What did the doctor say?”

“That she might wake up and she might not. He bled her and tended her other injuries, but only time will tell whether she comes back to us.” The earl stopped outside a closed door. “If you’re a praying man, I’d start praying.”

Hugo frowned, as he struggled to come to terms with what he heard. Impossible to believe that Athene, with all her passion and determination and courage, might die. By Jupiter, he refused to accept it. “She’s a fighter.”

“Aye, she’s that. In those prayers, remind the Lord that she’s always grabbed at life with both hands.”

The words struck Hugo as significant. He should have picked up the gist earlier. He would have, if his mind had been on anything except Athene’s condition. “You know her well?”

“Of course I know her well.”

“The inn staff said she’s your sister.”

The earl looked offended. “Because she is my sister.”

Dumbfounded, Hugo gaped at the man. “You don’t look like her.”

It wasn’t the most important point, but it was the first thing he thought to say. Stannard had light brown hair and was conventionally handsome.

The man shrugged. “She takes after our father. I look like our mother.”

“So you haven’t seen her in more than ten years?”

His lips turned down. “I had no trouble recognizing her.”

Devil take it, Athene was an earl’s daughter. She was, in fact, Lady Athene Colton-Heath and a member of one of Yorkshire’s greatest families. Compared to her, Hugo was a peasant. While he’d recognized that she came from the upper classes, he’d never expected her to hold such exalted rank.

“Take…take me to her,” he said in a gruff voice.

The earl cast him another of those searching looks, then pushed the door open. “Very well.”

Hugo dashed through a sitting room to a darkened bedroom, where a middle-aged man bent over a bed containing a terrifyingly still figure. “Athene?” he asked, as the weighty silence crowded around him, threatening a permanent silence to come. “Athene, darling?”

“Dr. Marsh, this is Athene’s betrothed, Sir Hugo Brinsmead,” Stannard said.

The doctor straightened and bowed. “Sir Hugo, your servant.”

Hugo paid no attention. He couldn’t take his eyes from Athene’s haggard features, as white as the pillowcase beneath her head. “Can she hear me?”

The doctor looked disapproving at the lack of politeness. “I don’t know. She’s been insensible since his lordship saved her on the street this afternoon.”

Hugo should have saved her. Hell, Hugo should have kept her out of danger in the first place. He’d known something was wrong. He should have stayed to have it out with her and let his family obligations go to blazes.

A fire raged in the grate and with the curtains closed, the room was stifling. He sucked in a breath redolent of herbal ointments and tinctures. “Can’t we open a window?”

“I advise against it. With the lady so frail, she’s liable to take a chill if exposed to the weather.”

There was a bloodstained bandage wrapped around Athene’s head. Hugo took a few moments to realize that someone – Dr. Marsh, he guessed – had cut off her mane of black hair.

Her eyes were closed, and her dark lashes lay unmoving on colorless cheeks. Her splinted left arm rested on top of the sheets. His heart cramped, as he struggled to see if she was breathing. She’d always bristled with energy. It was sinfully wrong to see her like this, so still, so quiet.

“Athene, my love, don’t die. For the love of heaven, don’t leave me.” As he made his broken entreaty, he hitched a chair next to the bed and took hold of her right hand. It was cool and unresponsive in his clasp.

She’d never failed to react to his touch, yet now her hand remained slack. It was as if the life had already drained out of her. He couldn’t face the idea that she’d never wake up.

“Dr. Marsh, a word outside,” Stannard said from behind Hugo. If Hugo had had an ounce of attention for anything other than Athene, he’d appreciate the earl’s tact. As it was, he barely noticed the two men leaving the room.

“Athene, Athene, my beloved, come back to me.” He lifted that alarmingly relaxed hand to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. “Don’t go. I beg of you.”

Hot tears pricked his eyes. She couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t let her. It had taken him his whole life to find her. He couldn’t lose her now.

“Athene, don’t die. I can’t go on without you.” His voice cracked with despair. Because he very much feared that she couldn’t hear him, that he talked to himself. That she’d never hear him again. Which didn’t stop him from trying. “Please, Athene, please.”

Again, she didn’t respond. This stillness was so alien to the vivid woman he adored. Tears trickled down his cheeks and onto the pale hand he clutched. He pressed her hand to his heart, a heart that beat for her alone.

“Come back to me, my darling. Come back.” Then words he’d nearly spoken aloud so many times.

Only damned cowardice had stopped him confessing his feelings before this.

Sick shame crushed him. He should have told her.

He should have put aside his pride and his fear and his useless attempts to strategize her surrender.

If a man loved a woman, he should bloody well say so. “I love you, Athene.”

Despite his resolution, his voice wavered. But he’d held the words back for so long, it was a relief to say them at last. He swallowed to ease a throat tight with tears.

“I loved you from the first time I saw you, all starch and defenses and longing eyes. I loved you when you tried to fight how much you wanted me. I loved you when you came to my bed and turned my life to bliss. I love you now.” Having breached the dam of confessing his feelings, he couldn’t stop the flow of words. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He didn’t know how long he sat by her bedside, stroking her hand and begging her to speak to him. Dr. Marsh came in a couple of times, and Hugo was vaguely aware of Stannard placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Yet what comfort could he find if Athene left him?

As hours passed, the wellspring of hope oozed away to nothing. His desperate, heartbroken pleas were in vain. Athene was dying. There was nothing that he could do about it.

“Athene, I love you.” Hugo wept as he pressed her hand to his lips again. “Come back to me, lass.”