“I have to see her.”
Duchess Catherine put a hand on her friend’s arm. “Let him in, Fi.”
“Fine,” Lady Fiona grumbled. “But we will be just outside.”
Theodore nodded, flung open the door, and strode in. The room was not as ornate as he expected. There was no antechamber, just a large four poster bed in the center, with several chairs scattered around it.
His feet glued themselves to the ground as his eyes found Harriet. She looked so small, lying in the center of the bed with a bandage wrapped around her head. Her eyes were closed and for a moment, he feared she was dead. Then he saw the rise and fall of her chest beneath the bedclothes.
She is alive.He moved closer, relief trying to punch through the terror that gripped him with a hand of iron. His eyes searched her body, looking for any other sign of injury.
Her pale hands clutched the bedclothes, the skin unbroken. He could not see her legs, but if they had been injured, he suspected they would not be beneath the covers.
He did not want to wake her, but he could not help but move closer. There was a small smile on her face, that fueled the guilt welling within his heart. He took another step.
Her eyes opened and he froze. She turned to face him, and the warmth was sucked from the room as her smile disappeared.
“Theodore.” It was not a question.
He had never seen her like this before. She was frosty, cool and detached. His eyes went to her head, and then back to her. He licked his lips, his mind struggling to think of something to say.
She is alive. She is alive!
It echoed through his mind, but it did nothing to relieve the fear holding him in place.
“You have leaves in your hair.” Harriet’s lips pursed.
He plucked them from his hair, still not taking his eyes from her. A part of him feared that if he did, she would disappear. He stepped closer to her. “I came as quickly as I could.”
His voice was hoarse, his words strangled by the rush of blood through his body. Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded so unlike her that for a moment, he struggled to understand the words.
Theodore blinked, feet moving of their own accord. “You are hurt.”
Harriet’s hands went to her bandage almost absently. “How did you know I was here?”
Theodore swallowed. “The Duchess. She sent a messenger.”
Harriet’s eyes widened and she looked past Theodore to the door, sighing. “She did not need to. You already–”
“I am glad she did.” Theodore did not know when he had crossed the room, but somehow he found himself at Harriet’s bedside.
She gazed up at him, arms folded across her chest. “I am not.”
His hands trembled as he reached towards Harriet. “I am sorry. This is all my fault.”
He gripped her hand in his, needing to feel her skin. He needed to know that she was real, that she was really sitting before him, alive and unharmed. The trembling spread from his hand to his arm, across his entire body.
“I am sorry, Harriet. I should have been there. I should have stopped this. If I had been by your side, I could have kept you safe. I should have kept you safe.” Words poured from his mouth, all the fear he had bottled on the ride to the castle bursting from him. “You could have died. Your head… You were so close and I did not know. And I should have…. I should have done something.”
He was babbling he knew, but he could not stop. It was all his fault. He had nearly lost her, and he would never forgive himself.
“It is only a minor injury, it is not that bad. I just need a little rest, that is all.” Her words did nothing to soothe the torrent ripping through him.
“This time. It is small this time.” He gritted his teeth. “It could have been worse. What if you had been alone? I do not even know who found you. What if the physician is wrong and it is more serious and it is all my fault. I have failed you and-”
“- Theodore stop!” Harriet’s hand was on his face, turning it gently to face her.
“Stop,” she repeated the words more softly, her voice gentle.
