Page 107 of An Unwilling Earl
Jacob dropped his head to the ground, and the room spun. He could feel the warmth of his blood pooling beneath him and figured he didn’t have much time left before he lost consciousness.
“I’ll get help,” O’Leary said, and raced out of the room.
Charlotte lifted Jacob’s head and put it in her lap. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Charlotte.” He tried to grab her hand, but his felt so heavy, and he could barely move it.
Charlotte grabbed it for him and held tight, but to his frustration his fingers wouldn’t wrap around hers. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to sleep next to her.
Damn it, this isn’t the way he wanted it to end.
“You stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me. Do you hear me, Jacob?”
“I’ll…try.”
He’d just begun to believe that he could be happy again, that there was life beyond the deep grief that he’d been living with for so long. To have it all end before it began angered him.
Charlotte didn’t deserve grief or loss. She’d had far too much in her life already. Damn it. He wanted to live. To create a life with Charlotte.
Charlotte trained her eyes on him, smoothing his hair back with her hand. She tried to smile, too, but it also failed. There was so much he wanted to say. A lifetime of words silenced too soon.
“O’Leary will get the doctor, and everything will be fine.”
“Charlotte. Listen…to me.”
She shook her head. “No. Don’t say it. I won’t lose you.”
He tried to tighten his hold on her hand but didn’t know if he succeeded. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.
“I love…you.” He let out a half laugh that ended in a groan and licked dry lips. “I should have…said it sooner… Never thought…I’d love a lady…dressed as a lad.”
Tears were dripping from her eyes, making dark splotches on her blue gown. “You can’t leave me now. Not yet. We have a house to move into and…” She sobbed, her chin quivering. “And a whole life in front of us. I was a fool to think America would be better than you. Jacob, I love you so much.”
“Listen. Hear me. You can be the D-Dowager—”
“No.” She shook her head, letting loose more tears.
“Countess…of Ashland.”
“Stop it. Don’t even say it.”
“Use the title…to do good.”
Her body was shaking with sobs as she leaned over to press a kiss against his forehead. “I love you,” she whispered.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Charlotte?”
She looked up to see Armbruster taking a seat in the other straight-backed chair that Mrs. Smith had brought up from Jacob’s office. Here she was, still accepting callers on unacceptable furniture, but for once she didn’t care. What did it matter? And why had it mattered so much in the first place? She shouldn’t have berated Jacob for his lack of furniture. It all seemed so petty now.
Armbruster looked at Jacob, lying so still on the bed. The only thing moving was his chest.
“What did the doctor say today?” he asked.
“The same thing he said yesterday and the day before. He’s lost a lot of blood. Only time will tell.”
Armbruster had been here for the past three days, by her side, leaving only to conduct business and to meet with Detective O’Leary. He had been her rock to lean on and had shielded her from the curious callers and Scotland Yard while she sat vigil at Jacob’s bedside, watching him breathe, willing him to live.
