Alone in the bed, she struggled to sit up.
“Diana.” Ian was by her side in an instant, his hand pressed to her forehead. “The fever broke.”
His relieved smile was brighter than the sunlight peeking through the curtains.
She wanted to return it, but her weakness made her, of all absurd things, suddenly shy.
“How do you feel?” he murmured.
“Grateful.” She managed a wan smile. “And thirsty.”
He poured her a small glass of water. “Sip slowly. I’ll get the doctor.”
“Wait.” She reached for his hand. “Stay with me a minute.”
Dark circles hung beneath his eyes but the relief in his expression made her swallow back tears.
“You found me,” she whispered. “When I needed you most.”
“I never doubted I would.”
“And no one hurt you? Everything that happened after the game is such a blur.”
He shook his head. “We can talk about it when you’ve had some rest.”
“You’re going to lecture me about going for the gun. I paid a high price for it.” She sighed. “And Widow still escaped.”
Ian drew a breath. “No, Di. She didn’t.”
He reached for the nightstand and handed her a cutout from the local newspaper. “On our way to San Genaro, we passed a fire on the road. We didn’t stop to ask what had happened; I was too concerned about getting you to a doctor.”
He smoothed his hand over her hair and pressed a kiss into her temple. “Sunderland’s team made inquiries. They think a lightning strike hit something in the cart that caused a fire and forced a collision with the carriage. Three women and the coach driver died. One of them was wearing Birdie’s coat and hat.”
Diana laid back against the pillows and blinked. “One of the other women was my mother.”
She waited for sorrow and pain. The gaping, hollow feeling that engulfed her was a surprise.
As was the relief that chased it.
“There were two barrels in their wagon. It could have been gunpowder. They died because…” Her voice cut out.
Ian drew her closer. “I’m sorry,tesora. For all of their sins, they did not deserve a painful death.”
“It doesn’t feel real. Or fair.” Tears finally broke loose and cascaded down her cheeks. “I thought I was finished with Widow.”
“She was your mother, and Birdie was part of your crew. You shared a mission that was the center of your life for years.” He stroked a hand down her arm. “It would be impossible to let all of that go in an instant. And you can choose to mourn them—or not—however you want.”
As more of her tears fell, he gently wiped them away with a clean handkerchief. In her entire life, she’d never felt more privileged than she did now, for having someone hold her through the quagmire of her grief.
She sat up abruptly. “Poor Amy is dealing with all of this on her own.”
“Amelia is handling things brilliantly,” he assured her. “You can talk with her when you’re feeling better. And I should let you rest too.”
He made to move, but she clung to his hand. “Wait. Please. Now that we’re here, there are things I must tell you.”
“We have time. I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you, until you’re well again,” he added with a small growl.
“The emeralds—”
