Page 39 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“U ncle Oliver!” Isabella’s voice was high pitched with glee, as she and her sister rushed to greet Edwin’s best friend, who had unexpectedly arrived at Ironstone. “What are you doing here? Do you have presents for us?”

“Not today, my dears,” replied Oliver, with a rueful smile, reaching out to tussle both girls’ hair affectionately. He turned to Edwin, his face turning solemn. “I need to speak with your father, girls. I am afraid it is a matter of great urgency.”

Edwin sighed heavily, raising his eyebrows, feeling irritable. But then, he always felt irritable these days. He really was a veritable bear with a sore head.

Being apart from Christine really is like enduring hell on earth.

He shook himself, turning to his friend. “Well, we had better go to the study then.” He turned to the girls. “It is time for your lessons, anyway. Off you go.”

The twins were vocal in their disappointment, casting him sad, reproaching glances, but did as he bid. Edwin tightened his heart. He had barely spent any time with them since they had returned to Ironstone from London without Christine. He had barely been able to function at all.

Beatrice stopped on the staircase, turning back.

“When is our stepmother coming home?” she asked, in a small voice.

“That is none of your concern,” snapped Edwin, rubbing his neck. “Do as you are told.”

Beatrice looked hurt, her face crumpling for a moment, but then turned away, following her sister up the stairs. They both looked like drooping, wilting roses.

He and Oliver didn’t speak again until they were in his study. Edwin poured them both a brandy, gesturing that they should sit by the fire, which was crackling merrily, creating an almost roasting warmth in the room. Edwin knew the fire wasn’t needed—it was full summer now, and the sun was blaring outside. But he hadn’t been outside in over a week.

What is the point? What is the point of anything?

“It is stifling in here,” declared Oliver, pulling at his cravat. He took the brandy, staring at his friend. “And yet you still look like death warmed up, Ironstone.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” snapped Edwin, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, rolling his eyes as he sat down. “Why are you here, Browning? You can’t have journeyed all this way just to insult me.”

There was a heavy silence. The only sound was the large log moving in the fireplace.

“Have you heard from Christine at all?” Oliver’s voice was filled with derision. “Do you know what is happening with your wife?”

Edwin bristled. “I know that she wanted to stay in London with her sister,” he replied. “I have respected her wishes. Clearly, she desires space.”

She wants space because you rejected her. You know that.

“You are a stubborn fool, Ironstone,” said Oliver, in a hard voice. “Christine fell off a horse and was injured.”

“What?” Edwin put down the glass of brandy, his heart lurching violently. “What happened? Is she—is she well?”

“No, she is not well,” snapped Oliver. “I called at her father’s house after hearing about the accident, but she is as weak as a kitten—barely conscious and incoherent.” He shook his head. “Clearly, she is not responding to treatment, but I cannot understand why. According to the physician, she bruised her ribs, strained a wrist, and has a large egg on her forehead—but she shouldn’t be ailing like she is. The physician cannot understand it.”

Edwin froze. He could barely breathe. Everything seemed to spin.

“Did you hear me, Ironstone?” Oliver’s voice snapped him out of his dark reverie. “You are a stubborn, blind fool! I saw Christine at a party prior to her accident, and she looked devastated, telling me that you will never care for her. You have virtually abandoned her, and now she is ailing badly. What are you going to do about it? ”

Edwin cursed beneath his breath, getting up, pacing the room. The pain was terrible. Conflicting thoughts rushed around his head, making him dizzy.

Christine is injured and weak. She needs you.

If you go to her, you will be neglecting your duty to your daughters. You will be surrendering to your need for her. Remember what happened to Isabella…

Suddenly, something snapped inside him, like a rubber band.

She was his wife. She needed him.

And he loved her, with his whole heart.

Why was he hesitating for even a moment?

“I will go to her side now,” he said, turning to Oliver, his heart thudding hard, barely able to breathe. “I will leave this instant.”

Oliver’s face changed. “I hoped you would say that.”

* * *

Christine turned over in the bed, slowly opening her eyes. A figure was sitting there. She squinted, trying to make it out.

Suddenly, her heart lurched. It was Edwin!

“Do not move,” he murmured, reaching out to take her hand, pressing it close to her face, kissing it passionately. “Oh, my sweet little mouse, what have you done to yourself?”

“How-how long have you been here?” she whispered. Her voice was so sore and croaky it was barely audible.

“I have sat by your side for the entire night,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “You are so ill, my love. So weak. How can this be? The physician told me your injuries are not serious!”

“I-I…” her voice trailed away. Her head was dizzy again and her eyes hurt. “I do not know…I have been taking the tonic every day…Lady Canterfield has been nursing me and has been vigilant about giving it to me…”

His face changed. “ Nora? Why has she been here? Why is she giving you medicine?”

Christine shuddered. She was so very tired. Her eyelids were drooping again, even as she longed to stay awake, to stare at his beloved face, to trace his features with her eyes, to bask in his presence.

He has come to me. At long last. I can die in peace now.

A single tear trickled down her cheek. She turned her head on the pillow, with a deep sigh, falling asleep again, feeling her hand in his, like a benediction.

* * *

Edwin jerked awake. His hand was still clutching Christine’s hand and sunlight was streaming through the windows.

Thoughts—disturbing, illuminating thoughts—were jostling through his mind, demanding to be heard.

Christine telling him that Nora had constantly been at her bedside, administering her medicine.

Oliver telling him that the physician couldn’t work out what was ailing Christine—that the injuries themselves were not serious.

The fact that this was similar to the way that Rose had weakened and eventually died. That it was far too similar to discount.

He turned, staring at Christine, his heart filling with pain and love. She was still asleep, her face waxen against the pillow, small beads of sweat dotting her forehead. She was gravely ill—that much was obvious. But what was not obvious was the reason why.

He turned, staring at the brown bottle standing on her bedside table. The tonic the physician had prescribed her. The tonic that Nora had been vigilant about administering to her.

He reached out to pick it up, with a shaking hand. But at that moment, the door opened, and Nora walked in. He dropped his hand, turning to his late wife’s sister.

Nora halted abruptly, looking stunned. There was a tense silence.

“Edwin,” she said eventually, with a faint smile. “You—you are here.”

“I am here,” he said, standing up, blocking the path to the bed. His hands balled into fists at his side. “And here you are as well, Nora.”

She laughed shakily. “Oh, I have been beside myself with worry about the poor duchess! It is the least I could do after her accident.” She took a deep breath. “In fact, she is due for her medicine now…”

“I will give it to her,” he said, reaching out and taking the bottle, before she could reach it. “I will be tending to my wife’s ailments now. Thank you for your attention—but it is no longer needed, Nora.”

Nora looked stunned, as if he had slapped her hard across the face. She exhaled slowly.

“Very well,” she said eventually, with another shaky laugh. “Please do not hesitate to call me if you need me, Edwin.”

He smiled slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, I will. Do not worry about that.”

She balked, visibly swallowing, before smiling weakly again, turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Edwin stared at the door pensively for a moment, before turning to look at the bottle in his hands, turning it over. Then he rang for the maid, gazing at Christine, while he waited. His wife didn’t stir at all.

“Yes, Your Grace?” said the maid, bobbing a curtsey, when she finally entered the room.

“I want you to soak this tonic in bread,” he said, handing the bottle to the maid. “All of it. Put it in a bowl and leave it at the back entrance of the house, near the kitchen door.”

The maid looked utterly confused. “Your Grace?”

“Do not question me,” he snapped. “Just do as I say.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The maid bobbed another quick curtsey, before leaving the room, clutching the bottle in her hands.

Edwin sat down near the bed, taking Christine’s hand again, squeezing it tightly. She didn’t even stir. His eyes filled with helpless tears.

All of the pieces of the puzzle were slotting into place, now; neatly and cleanly, one after the other. The answers to a bigger puzzle that had tormented him for years. A puzzle that had caused him many sleepless nights. A puzzle that had rendered his children motherless.

Nora had sat by Rose’s bedside as she had slowly weakened. In his mind’s eye, he could still see Nora administering Rose’s medicine.

Nora was the answer to Rose’s mysterious illness and death…as she was the answer to Christine’s puzzling weakness now.

It was Nora. It had always been Nora.

Suddenly, he retched, turning his head to the side, putting his head on his knees, his head spinning violently.

He wanted to kill her. He wanted to put his hands around her scrawny neck and twist it until she stopped breathing.

Patience. Be patient. Tomorrow morning you will have your proof. And then, you will deal with her—once and for all.

He took a deep breath, taking Christine’s limp hand again, his heart pulsing with pain and love, a love deeper than anything he had ever known.

“Hold on, my darling little mouse,” he whispered fervently, kissing her hand. “Just for a little while longer. I will save you…but you must hold on.”