Soothing herself the only way she knew how, she touched his face, caressing his cheek reverently to remind herself that he was very much alive. His skin was hot to the touch, but he breathed. If that was all she had right now, it would have to be enough. Stroking his cheek with her thumb, she released a sigh filled with longing.
Surely Aamina would be back soon. It wasn’t wise forher to linger too long in his presence. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the sensation of his rapid exhales as they whispered against her skin.
A hand—his hand—shot up from beneath the blankets, gripping her wrist tightly.
Charlotte yelped.
Peregrine’s bright blue eyes, glazed over with fever, locked on hers.
“How is it possible?” he whispered. “Am I dreaming?”
Charlotte’s arm shook within his grip and she pulled back, wordless. Perry’s feverish gaze never left hers as she swallowed and searched for an appropriate answer. His laudanum fueled alertness was muddled, and she wasn’t sure if he truly understood what he was seeing.
“Please, my lord. You must rest,” she said as she caressed his cheek with her hand to soothe him back to sleep.
“Who are you, fair maiden? Are you a ghost?” he whispered, tortured and frantic. Bewildered, Perry leaned into her hand, his gaze rapt.
“Yes. I am a ghost,” she whispered, her lip trembling. Charlotte blinked to chase away the tears gathering. “You are dreaming, my lord.”
His eyes fluttered closed, and he sought the comfort of her touch, the sweetness of the sensation tearing at her heart. All she wanted was to care for him, so he could live.
So one of them could live.
Once she was certain he had fallen into a deep sleep, she withdrew her hand, holding it close to her chest as though burned. This was the last time she would be able to visit him. The mere thought of not seeing him again was utterly devastating.
Sacrifices must be made to keep the secret.
Perry may have thought her a ghost, but she was very much alive.
The pain his proximity was causing was going to be the death of her.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte stood in the hallway as Aamina returned, her heart almost clawing its way out of her chest. Lingering by his bedside was a mistake.
“Miss Charlotte, are you well?”
Shaking her head, a sob crept up in her throat. “He woke momentarily, and I believe he recognized me.” She cupped her hands over her mouth, her breath coming rapidly now.
Holding fresh linens to her chest, Aamina peeked into the room at their patient. Her mouth flattened as her keen eyes inspected the scene.
“He is deep asleep. I will convince him it was a dream. Do not fret.” Aamina pressed a comforting hand to her arm. “I could always give him a little more laudanum if he makes a fuss.” The maid waggled her eyebrows.
“I fear it will make no difference. What if he doesn’t wake up? The wound seems to be festering.” Charlotte swiped at the tears gathering in her eyes with a shaky hand.
Aamina gritted her teeth. “Should I fetch the doctor again?”
“No, he will only want to give him a bloodletting. Lord Spencer has lost enough blood. We will wait and see.”
The maid’s eyes darted to the side, and she rubbed her lips together as though mulling over her words.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. We were discussing the lord’s condition downstairs, and I heard it said from our head groom that we might be able to clean the wound. He is a veteran of the army. Jenkins fought bravely and said he tended many wounds. The doctor would scoff at his suggestions, but perhaps we should ask him?”
Her eyes cast up to the ceiling, Charlotte considered. She needed to be more vigilant, now that Peregrine had seen her.
“What would this treatment entail?” she asked, her stomach heavy like lead.
