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Her eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding their hazel depths. “I don’t feel right,” she whispered.

Terror clawed at Rowan’s chest. He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently before shouting for help. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, Simmons appearing at the door with wide eyes.

“Get the physician,” Rowan ordered, his voice harsh with fear. “Now.”

As Simmons rushed to obey, Rowan turned back to Selina. She had fallen into a restless sleep, her breathing shallow, her skin now burning with fever where minutes before it had been cool to the touch.

He held her hand, willing strength into her, while servants hurried in with cool cloths and Agnes hovered tearfully nearby. The wait for the physician seemed endless, each minute stretching into hours as Selina’s condition worsened.

Mr. Morris arrived with his bag clutched tightly in gnarled hands, his lined face serious as he bent over Selina. He examined her with methodical thoroughness, checking her pulse, her eyes, her breathing.

“What is it?” Rowan demanded when the silence became unbearable. “What’s wrong with my wife?”

The physician straightened, his expression grave. “Your Grace, I believe the Duchess has been poisoned.”

The words hit Rowan like a physical blow. “Poisoned? How?”

“I cannot say with certainty what substance was used,” Mr. Morris admitted. “But the symptoms suggest something powerful. How long has she been ill?”

“She was fine when we woke,” Rowan said, his mind racing back over the morning. “She got up for water and then collapsed.”

“Water?” The physician turned to the shattered glass on the floor. “Was that her first drink this morning?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Morris moved to the pitcher, sniffing cautiously at its contents. His face grew grimmer. “I would advise against anyone drinking from this.”

Understanding dawned with terrible clarity. The water. Someone had poisoned the water meant for Selina.

“Can you help her?” Rowan asked, his voice barely controlled.

“Fortunately, it seems she ingested very little, if any,” the physician said. “I’ll prepare several antidotes to counter the most likely substances. With proper care, she should recover fully.”

Rowan felt his knees threaten to buckle with relief. “Do whatever is necessary. Spare no expense.”

The next hours passed in a blur of activity. Mr. Morris administered potions while servants changed linens and brought fresh water, which they tested first, to cool Selina’s fever. Rowan refused to leave her side, even when the physician suggested he rest.

“Your Grace, you can do nothing more for her now,” Mr. Morris whispered.

“I can be here when she wakes,” Rowan replied, his tone brooking no argument.

When night fell again, Selina’s fever finally broke. Her breathing eased, and she slipped into a more natural sleep. Rowan sat by her bed, dark circles under his eyes, his normally immaculate appearance abandoned in favor of rumpled clothing and stubbled jaw.

A knock at the door announced Felix’s arrival. His usual levity was absent as he took in the scene before him.

“How is she?” he asked quietly.

“Better,” Rowan replied, his voice rough from disuse. “The physician says she’ll recover.”

Felix pulled up a chair beside him. “What happened?”

“Someone poisoned her water,” Rowan said, the words still difficult to form. “It was meant for her, Felix. Not for me. For her.”

Understanding dawned in Felix’s eyes. “You think this is connected to your investigation.”

It wasn’t a question. Rowan nodded, the guilt he’d been holding at bay crashing over him in waves.

“I did this,” he said, looking at Selina’s pale face. “By bringing her into my life, I put her in danger.”

“You can’t know that for certain,” Felix argued. “It could be?—”

“Don’t,” Rowan cut him off. “We both know what this is. Someone wants to hurt me, and they’re using Selina to do it.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead with gentle fingers. “I could have lost her, Felix. She could have died because of me.”

“Let me help,” Felix said. “We can increase security, investigate who had access to your chambers?—”

“No.” Rowan shook his head. “This is my responsibility. My wife, my home.”

Felix frowned. “Your pride, you mean.”

“My mother died because of my father,” Rowan said, the words torn from some place deep inside him. “She died bringing me into the world while he was off with one of his mistresses. I won’t lose Selina the same way.”

“This isn’t the same situation,” Felix protested.

“Isn’t it? My father’s choices, his enemies, his lifestyle—they all contributed to my mother’s death. Just as my choices now have endangered Selina.” Rowan looked back at his wife, his throat tight with emotion. “As long as she’s with me, she’ll never be truly safe.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Felix asked, caution in his voice.

“I don’t know yet,” Rowan admitted. “But I need to end this. Find out who’s behind it all and make sure they can never threaten her again.”

Or if that failed, he would need to make a far more painful choice. The thought of life without Selina carved a hollow space in his chest, but the alternative, her death because of his enemies, was unthinkable.

“Get some rest,” Felix urged. “You can’t help her if you collapse.”

Rowan shook his head. “I won’t leave her.”

Felix recognized defeat when he saw it. He squeezed Rowan’s shoulder before departing, promising to return the next day.

Alone again with Selina, Rowan took her hand between both of his, pressing it to his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She continued sleeping as her husband grappled with the clash between his newly discovered love and his guilt and fear. He faced the terrifying prospect that protecting his most treasured possession might require sacrificing it.