“Gertie, I fear something is wrong. I am terribly cold, but I also feel like burning.”
“You look as pale as your nightgown, Your Grace!” the maid exclaimed, her sleepy eyes becoming more alert as she rushed to her mistress’s side.
“Please inform His Grace,” Madeline rasped, making her shallow breaths dip inward to squeeze out a little wheeze. “Tell him that I am very ill and cannot rest. Do tell him quickly!”
“Right away, Your Grace!” Gertie cried, panic evident on her face. Madeline felt terrible for having to lie to her lady’s maid, but she had no choice.
I have to know. Would he worry about me? Would he be afraid something might happen to me?
As soon as the maid ran out of her room, Madeline felt a mix of guilt and excitement, her heart galloping faster.
All she needed to do now was wait.
Kenneth was not yet asleep. In fact, he was still in his study, examining a ledger with the help of a single candelabra. He was ready to retire, though.
If somebody were to find him there in his study late at night, they would praise his efficiency while being worried about his tendency to overwork. Yet, anything was better thanbeing restless and sleepless in his bedchambers, knowing that Madeline was only on the other side of his walls.
His mind kept returning, against his will, to the sight of her bent over his bed, her orange skirts shoved to her hips, the sounds she had made, the gasp that broke into a moan, the way she had pushed back into his hand and begged him to touch her. He had been close enough to feel the heat coming off her, close enough to know how ready she was, and it had taken everything in him to step back instead of dragging her beneath him and sinking his cock into her until that defiant mouth had nothing left to say but his name.
He set down his quill and reminded himself, not for the first time, that desire was simply another appetite. It could be governed like any other.
A sudden, frantic pounding interrupted his thoughts.
“Enter,” he said coldly, wondering what could be so urgent so late at night.
The door burst open. Gertie flung herself into the room, one hand clutching her chest. She was panting and trembling, but managed to keep her candle lit.
“Forgive me, Your Grace! I had to run to you. Her Grace is very ill, and she had me come here to call for you immediately as she—”
“Slow down, girl,” Kenneth said firmly, his heart pounding. “Tell me again. What is wrong with her?”
“She has taken ill. She is burning up and feeling cold at the same time. Her hair is sticking to her forehead from the sweat and the tossing and turning. She does not look like she could breathewell, Your Grace. I am afraid she might die at this rate!”
The air in the study suddenly vanished, or at least it felt that way. Kenneth could not breathe. He had to stop himself from clutching his chest.
A fever? His wife seemed to have a strong constitution. She did not get sick after being drenched in chilly lake water. She seemed to spend most of her time outdoors.
Yet, a fever was nothing to be trifled with. It could steal lives at night, silently and quickly. The thought of Madeline succumbing to illness made his heart slam hard against his chest. He did not know what to do with the dread rising in him; he was not a man accustomed to fear, but this was quite sudden.
Slowly and calmly—at least on the outside—he rested his quill and stepped out from behind his desk.
“Calm down, Gertie,” he said with a flat tone. “Fever is common. There is no need to be hysterical. I will look at her myself and will have to call a physician if it is necessary.”
“Y-yes, Your Grace,” Gertie squeaked, but Kenneth could see that the maid had begun calming down.
Even as he maintained his composure, he did not walk toward Madeline’s bedchambers. Instead, he strode quickly, using his long legs to cover the distance. With each step, the fear inside him grew tighter and more suffocating. He arrived almost instantly. He did not pause to fix himself or linger at the door. Instead, he flung it open as soon as he arrived.
He threw the door open and stopped cold at what he found inside.
Chapter 14
“Iam here, Madeline,” Kenneth said, his voice breathless as if he had been running through the corridors.
Where did he come from? Were his chambers not just adjacent to hers? He was through the door before she could arrange her face, and the room shrank around him.
Madeline was probably truly sick. When she peered at her husband, it seemed like his presence was expanding before her eyes, filling every corner.
She lay against her pillows, her breath caught in her throat. The only way she could release it was slowly. While she knew he would come, she had not expected how his eyes swept over her once, fast, searching her face and her body for whatever Gertie’s panic had promised. Then he caught himself, and his face was back to its stoic expression.
