Page 92 of A Virgin to Tempt the Duke

“Go and rest, at least for a few hours. I’ll watch her.”

“I’m staying.”

“Frederick—”

“I’m staying, Rachel.”

She studied him for a moment and then went away without arguing. She came back at two, four, and six. Each time, he wasin the same chair, in the same position, Anna’s hand still loosely in his.

The night was not easy. Anna’s sleep was restless; she turned and muttered and went rigid in ways that brought him out of his chair to smooth the compress or adjust the blanket. He did not sleep. The night went the way such nights do, slowly, and then all at once, until the grey light at the curtain’s edge signaled morning, and Frederick sat and watched her breathe and felt the hours.

“Good Morning, Your Grace,” the physician said. “I am here to see Lady Birchall.”

“Please,” he said as he rose from his chair to give the doctor room.

Dr. Warren had arrived at seven and was thorough. He examined and made sounds of cautious satisfaction.

“The fever has broken and while Lady Birchall is not yet well, she is no longer in immediate danger. With rest and continued care, she should recover fully within the week.”

Rachel exhaled beside Frederick like she had been holding her breath for twelve hours and was finally allowed to stop. The tension in the house changed. Something that had been drawn very tight loosened into something with enough slack to give, to allow a soft landing rather than bracing for disaster.

“This is splendid news,” Frederick said as he shook the doctor’s hand. “Please see to it that all bills are sent to my estate.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the doctor said as he made his exit.

Anna slowly became more present, and by mid-morning she could follow conversation and answer simple questions. When Rachel sent for broth, Frederick took the bowl from the tray. He was several spoonfuls in before he became aware of what he was doing. He glanced up. Rachel was folding fresh cloths on the far side of the room. He looked back at Anna. She was watching him with a clarity that hadn't been there yesterday.

“You should finish it,” he said as he offered her another spoonful, and she did.

“Well, we have enough cloths for now,” Rachel said as she crossed the room to Frederick. “I am going to pick some fresh flowers from the garden to bring up, to help raise her spirits.”

“That is a nice idea,” Frederick said as she walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

Anna sat up slightly and gingerly propped herself up on one elbow. She looked at Frederick for a long time.

“Why did you stay?” she asked finally.

Her voice was weak, roughened by the fever, but the question underneath it was strong. He set down the broth bowl. He looked at his hands, and then at her.

“Because I could not leave,” he said. “Rachel sent word to me that you were unwell and I was in my hall with my coat in my hand before I had finished reading it.”

“I see.”

“I have stopped pretending, at least to myself, that this is a simple thing.” He paused. “When I saw you in this bed… I have told you already, some of it. You may not remember.”

“I heard you,” she said, quietly. “Not all of it. But I heard your handsome voice.”

“I started at the beginning,” he said. “Our beginning, when you came to me. I need you to understand what I saw, because I have never said it aloud to anyone.” He looked at her directly. “My mother had bruises like the ones I saw on your arm. For years. I was the only one who saw them you see. She was careful about it, very careful, which tells you something about the kind of man my father was… and the particular skill a woman has to develop around such men. I recognized them on you the morning after you arrived, and something…” He stopped. “Something that had been sitting closed in me for a very long time opened up, and I have not been able to close it again.”

Anna had gone very still.

“There was a night,” he said, “when I was twelve, almost thirteen. I found her alone in the nursery, one night. My mother. She had Rachel in her arms, and I thought… Well, for one moment, I thought I was watching something tender. And then I saw what her hands were doing. She was trying to smother her.”

Anna gently took Frederick’s hand, and he continued.

“I got there in time. I don’t know how. I don’t remember crossing the room, only that I had Rachel against my chest and my mother was on the floor, weeping in a way I had never seen a grown woman weep, and she told me everything.”

“You are so brave,” Anna said, her voice hoarse.