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“Please, Papa,” Sophie begged, feeling rather certain he was weakening. “All you have to do is agree to let her stay hereifGrandfather agrees to let her leave.”
Her father’s brow lifted.
“If we’re successful in doing that, in rescuing her from their clutches, certainly you would be willing to give her refuge here.”
Papa heaved a sigh. “And who is going to talk your grandfather into such a thing, sweetheart?”
“Mama will talk to him.”
Her father laughed at that. “Well, then your success is doomed from the start.”
Not if Charlotte and Sophie convinced Mama to say the right things and…
Goodness!Wasshe manipulative? As she’d accused Cassie of making her sound?
Sophie shook that thought away for the moment. Second guessing herself would not help her cousin and that was her main goal in all of this, helping Priscilla. Even if she was manipulative, her motives were pure.
“Then you have nothing to lose if you promise to let her stay, do you?”
A soft snort escaped Papa. “You know I can never deny you anything, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Papa!” Sophie threw her arms around his neck. “We shall return home with Priscilla. You may mark my words.”
“I’m almost afraid you might.”
CHAPTER 6
Every time Gabe stepped foot in Rosewood Lunatic Asylum, a chill crept up his spine and his gut twisted in despair. Honestly, it was a vast departure from Bedlam, but still not a place one would want to spend much time. Not all of the nurses seemed overly concerned with the care of their patients. Lunacy and misery permeated every corner of the mansion turned asylum. And the screams that echoed from the various bedchambers would be the stuff nightmares were made of.
“Ah, Major.” A slightly balding doctor nodded in Gabe’s direction as he stepped over the threshold into Rosewood. “You’ve returned?”
How could he do otherwise? Clayton had no other family to see after him. “How is my brother today, Doctor Peat?”
“His lordship is the same as he was yesterday, sir.” The man wiped his hands, which seemed to be stained with something that looked like blood, on the edges of his coat. “Or he was a bit ago, at least.”
Good God! That wasn’tClayton’sblood, was it? Gabe winced at the thought. Before he could even ask Peat about the condition of his hands, however, a high-pitched feminine wail was wrenched from someone the floor above them. The sound echoed throughout Rosewood and made that familiar, awful chill swirl down Gabe’s spine. For the love of God, he wouldneverend up in a place like Rosewood, no matter what.No. Matter. What. Should Gabe ever discover he was afflicted with the same madness that had ensnared his brother, he’d throw himself into the Thames or beg Christian to end his life for him with one of those daggers. Eternity in purgatory had to be better thanthisexistence. It simply had to be.
“I’ll just show myself to his chambers,” Gabe said to the doctor, though the last thing he wanted to do was climb the stairs and encounter whichever woman was screaming somewhere along the way. Of course, the odds of encountering the screamer were slim as most of the patients at Rosewood were bound to their beds the same way Clayton was bound to his.
“Of course, of course,” Peat called after him. “I believe his breakfast is still on a tray, Major. He refused sustenance this morning. Perhaps he will eat a bite for you.”
That was doubtful. Clayton was generally in such a state that one could not reason with him nor carry on any sort of conversation. Over the fortnight that Gabe had been in London, his brother hadn’t recognized him even once.
Gabe climbed the stairs and then started down the corridor toward his brother’s chamber. Another series of screams trailed after him, and Gabe cringed at the sound. What an awful Hell on Earth this place was. He silently prayed that Oakcliffe would be a more serene environment, some place not so horrid for Clayton to live out the rest of his days.
Gabe quickened his pace to his brother’s door, and then knocked, not because Clayton was in any condition to admit him entrance, but just out of civilized habit. He did not wait for any sort of response to his knock, however, and simply strode inside his brother’s chamber, feigning a smile he did not feel for Clayton’s benefit.
“Good morning,” he began, hoping he sounded cheerier than he felt. Even after the last fortnight, Gabe was certain he would never get accustomed to seeing the wild expression in his brother’s eyes or the sheer number of painful looking lesions that covered his skin. Heartbreaking. Seeing Clayton like this was heartbreaking.
But Clayton did not respond, not really. He muttered to himself as he was wont to do, but it was unintelligible.
As the doctor below had suggested, a tray of food was on a table beneath a nearby window. Porridge and milk.
“Are you hungry?” Gabe asked, making his way to his brother’s abandoned breakfast.
Of course, Clayton only muttered an unintelligible response, if it was even a response at all.
But if the caretakers at Rosewood had not been successful that morning, Gabeshouldmake another attempt to get his brother to eat something. He dipped the spoon into the now cold porridge and then brought it to Clayton’s lips. “Come on,” he said. “You don’t want to starve to death.”
