“Where are you going?”
“To get some sleep before my addled brain induces me to say something I cannot take back.” He paused at the door. “Send me word if he should wake.”
Elizabethmanagedatleastsix hours of sleep, if the mantel clock was to be believed. She choked down a hasty breakfast and, finding no one poised to prevent her, hurried back to Richard’s room.
When she opened the door, she found not the earl or William—mercifully not William—but Georgiana sitting by the bed. The young woman lifted her head with a soft look of welcome and scooted over to make another seat.
“I did not know you were here,” Elizabeth whispered.
“You were in no mood to know much of anything last night,” Georgiana replied lightly. “I came with Lady Matlock.”
Elizabeth stared at the bed—Richard’s breath rising steadily in his chest, his complexion less pallid today—and reached instinctively for Georgiana’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“It was nothing. Richard is my favourite cousin, after all. And my other guardian, did you know that? My father wanted me to have someone with a sword to protect me.”
“I mean it,” Elizabeth replied in a firmer voice, ignoring Georgiana’s attempt at levity. “Jane is gone, off on her Happily Ever After. Even Billy is gone. I—oh, how I could use a friend just now! If I cannot have my sister, I am glad, awfully glad, to have you.”
Georgiana regarded her in silence and tightened her grip. “I never thought I would call you this, Elizabeth, but I would like to think of you as a sister, even though...” She broke off, then swallowed and nodded.
“We are back where we started,” Elizabeth replied with forced cheer. “Still family, yes?”
Georgiana nodded. “Yes, something of that kind. I do not know how to say these things, I suppose, but is there anything I can do?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No... yes.” She turned to stare intently at the girl. “Please, think well of me. I am so afraid of myself—what I might do or say in an unguarded moment. Please know that my spirit longs to remain faithful and true—I just no longer know to what, or how that should look.”
Georgiana sniffed and lifted her chin. She said nothing, but her eyes glittered in response.
They sat some while after this in silence. Occasionally, Richard would moan in his sleep, tossing his head from one side to the other. After an hour of irregular outbursts, Elizabeth noticed that his right eyelid was beginning to flutter, his hands to clench and unclench in the bedding. She nudged Georgiana, who was sitting a little taller now and watching Richard with the same interest.
“I’ll get someone,” Georgiana murmured.
Elizabeth moved to the bed and reached to touch his forehead... but hesitated. This scarred and suffering warrior was her own—the man who tried to save her in another life, the man to whom she had pledged herself.But he was not William.
She sucked in a bracing breath and bit her lip. Richard deserved every tenderness she had to offer, regardless of... anything. She scolded herself, commanding her quaking fingers that felt like betrayal, and laid her palm over his brow.
His fever was markedly lower. He stirred at her touch, flinching away and muttering, “No... stay... the camp! Go on, Giles...”
Elizabeth drew back her hand just as the door opened softly to admit an entire audience. The earl hastened to the bedside; the countess rushing to look over his shoulder. William and Georgiana trailed behind; their expressions tight.
“He is waking,” the earl declared. He took his brother’s hand and grinned in triumph when the fingers clasped his in reply. “Richard—Richard, can you hear me?”
Richard’s head jerked away. “No... get to cover... look sharp, Giles!”
“Richard, it is I, Reginald. You are home—safe at Matlock. Rest easy, man. Do you hear me?”
His breathing changed. Laboured gasps became ragged pants, and he jerked his hand away, then snatched and brushed at his wrist as though trying to free it from some binding.
“Richard!” The earl bent at the waist, nearly shouting, then he pulled back suddenly. “Elizabeth, perhaps your voice would be better.”
She shook her head, feeling William’s gaze on her, the nearness of his hand as he instinctively reached out. “No, my lord, I am sure—”
“Nonsense! What soldier does not dream of his girl at home? Come, it would do him good to hear you.”
She baulked, tried to conceive an excuse, and it was William who stepped up in her place.
“Leave her be, Reginald.” He dropped to a knee then and uttered a few soft words. “Richard, listen to my voice. You are safe—everyone is safe. I will take your hand now. Have no fear, it is only me. There... that is good.”
He kept up a soothing string of chatter, never demanding, simply reassuring. His words seemed to have a calming effect. Richard’s frantic thrashing stilled to rigid defiance, then, gradually, to weary acceptance.
