Page 23 of While the Duke Was Sleeping (England’s Sweethearts #1)

In an instant, the already shambolic room descended into chaos. Della was frozen to the spot as Rhett’s family rushed past her to his bedside.

“Peter, you’re awake.”

“How do you feel?”

“Are you well?”

“Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?”

“Are you hot? Should we open the window?”

“You must be starving. Someone fetch food.”

“Someone fetch the doctor.”

“You must be thirsty. Here.” Meg poured a glass of water from the jug by his bed and pressed it into his hands.

Della backed away slowly. This was good news. The duke waking meant neither she nor Cordelia were going to prison for his murder. It was excellent news; it was simply terribly timed. The entire damned family was there. Shit, Adelaide.

If she kept her movements tiny and inched toward the door, perhaps she could escape before the surprise of their brother’s awakening wore off and the Montgomery siblings looked for her. In an ideal world, she would confess all to the duke and beg for his cooperation alone . Besides, she wasn’t ready to face Rhett and his sisters with the truth. They would be angry. They would likely demand she remove her ornaments from the tree, and while that might seem like a trivial thing, she had never had a family Christmas tree. Trees and ornaments were far too bulky to be carried from place to place. The closest she had come were kindhearted innkeepers who’d allowed her to place a trinket or two on the sparse trees that leaned in the corners of tap rooms.

By the bed, Rhett and Jac were helping their brother sit up. The duke grumbled, as men do, but he clearly needed the help. When the pillows were stacked behind him, he closed his eyes and sighed. Meg fussed with the blanket, and Winnie reached over to remove the tinsel crown he wore, throwing it toward the mess of ornaments.

Della was so close to the door. Only a few more steps, and she would be gone.

It would be over.

Peter grasped Rhett’s hand. “Thank you for coming home, Everett.” The duke’s eyes glistened, and a lump formed in Adelaide’s throat. Rhett had been so nervous about facing his brother, but the duke’s love for him was so clear. She didn’t know Peter, but she couldn’t believe that someone who looked at their brother with such affection wouldn’t want the best for him.

She would whisper goodbye, but they might hear her, and she needed to disappear. But that wasn’t her fate.

“God damn it,” she muttered as Andrew appeared in the doorway, blocking her escape.

“Peter, you’re awake. Thank God.”

“Thank God, indeed,” Jac said. “It does feel like a Christmas miracle.”

“I told you the Christmas tree would work,” Winnie said. “Della, what are you doing all the way over there?” She grabbed Della’s hand and dragged her into the circle of family standing by Peter.

Peter smiled at her.

She smiled back.

Jac grinned at them both.

Frank stood in the corner, sniggering, while Rhett kept his eyes firmly on his shoes. His smile was frozen.

“Good afternoon,” Della said when the silence became too awkward to bear.

Peter’s brows furrowed, and he cocked his head, clearly confused, clearly wondering why on God’s earth Cordelia’s maid was standing in his bedroom.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is it, Adelaide. The moment all your lies are going to crash down on you.

“Apologies. Who are you?”

Rhett’s head shot up. The girls all gasped in unison.

Meg took Peter’s hand in hers, squeezing gently. “Brother, you don’t recognize Cordelia?”

Peter shook his head. “Should I?”

“Oh, good God.” The words burst from Rhett’s mouth as he turned away from them all, his hands intertwined behind his head.

Meg looked at him sideways, but Jac and Winnie were focused on Peter. “She is your betrothed,” Jac said. “You don’t recognize her at all?”

Don’t say anything, Adelaide. Don’t say a word. Just wait for the ground to swallow you.

Peter shook his head. “I’m betrothed?”

Oh my God. He doesn’t remember.

“Oh my God, he has amnesia.” Jac’s hand flew to her mouth. Winnie gasped. Meg sank into the chair by his bed, and Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose.

Jac leaned across the bed and grabbed her brother by both shoulders. “Do you know who we are?”

Peter nodded. “Jacqueline, I know who you are. Margaret, Edwina, Everett, Andrew.” He looked at Frank and scowled. “Frank.” The word came out flat. Clearly, the duke knew exactly who his uncle was. He turned to Adelaide. “You do look familiar.”

Winnie sighed and grabbed Adelaide’s hand. “That’s because she’s your fiancée, dummy. You proposed to her just a few days ago.”

Peter shook his head and shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Adelaide said. It was a relief, in fact. The axe was still hanging there, but it wouldn’t swing right now. “Perhaps after some rest, things will come back to him. I’ll go ask the kitchen for some willow bark tea. He must have a devil of a headache.”

With one last look at Rhett, who was staring out of the window shaking his head, she fled the room.