Page 92 of Ne'er Duke Well
“Go back to sleep,” she said, afraid of what she might say, afraid of what she wanted so much she could almost imagine it into being. “I’ll hurry to Rowland House. I’ll get Lu.”
He still looked at her. She could pick out the motes of dust in the light spilling through the window.
“Thank you.” His voice was thick with sleep and emotion.
She nodded a little and swiped at her eyes before she fled.
Peter left Freddie’s room with one final glance at his brother. Freddie still slept, but it felt different—a deep, comfortable sleep, his breathing a little raspy but unhurried. No longer the desperate gaspiness of lungs unable to take in enough air.
Outside the door, he saw Humphrey’s tall form, dressed rather absurdly in worn buckskin breeches and the formal coat that Selina had acquired for him before the nightmare of Freddie’s illness had begun. Peter stifled a laugh, but it filled him, buoyant and delighted.
Humphrey jerked around, startled, and Peter had a momentary glimpse of Emmie, Selina’s maid, nestled beneath Humphrey’s long, bony arm, before she squeaked and darted for the stairs.
When hadthathappened? The bubble of mirth swelled in Peter’s chest.
“Your Grace!” said Humphrey, and his voice creaked alarmingly on the words.
“Humphrey,” said Peter gravely.
“Emmie—that is, Her Grace’s—er—she—” Humphrey sounded strangled. “She says your brother’s getting on better.”
“He is.”
Humphrey’s head bobbed in a nervous nod. Then another. He opened his mouth and, when no words emerged, shut it again.
Peter took pity on him. “I’d like to wash and change clothes before my wife returns with my sister.”
Humphrey appeared to sag with the relief of having some direction. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll get some hot water—let mego to your bedchamber—” Still speaking, he turned and made his way to the staircase, Peter following in his wake.
Freddie was going to be all right. As Peter bathed, as he let Humphrey lather and scrape away the three days’ growth of whiskers on his face, the words bounced merrily through him, an India rubber ball of happiness.
Freddie was going to be all right, and Lu was coming home and he could tell her so.
He met her on his way down the stairs. Lu was coming up, her hair a wild tangle of curls, one pin sticking straight out over her ear. She met his gaze. Little white lines bracketed her mouth, and she didn’t speak. She turned down the hall and made for Freddie’s bedroom.
Selina was only steps behind Lu, and when Peter met her at the landing, she tilted her head after his sister. “Go,” she said. “Be with them.”
He hesitated, looking at her. She still looked weary. He moved toward her, cupped his hand behind her head and kissed her hard on the mouth.
“Thank you,” he said when they broke away from each other. “For bringing her. Go rest. I’ll come for you.”
“Call me if you need anything,” she said. “With Freddie or Lu or… anything.”
He squeezed her shoulders once before turning toward the door Lu had disappeared behind. A part of him wanted to tow Selina behind him. She understood Lu better than he ever had. She was like Lu, vivid and ferocious, and she would know how to tell Lu everything he didn’t know how to say.
But he couldn’t. Somehow it seemed important that he do it himself.
He pulled open the door. Lu stood awkwardly by the side of the bed, her hands tucked into her armpits. Even from behind, he could see that her body was stiff. She wasn’t crying.
He came over to her and let his hand rest on her shoulder. “He’s going to be fine.”
“How do you know?” It was a challenge and a demand.
He looped one of her ringlets around his finger. “We had the doctor out. Selina’s friend. She says he’s some kind of prodigy, cleverer than all the other medical men put together. He says Freddie’s lungs are inflamed, but now that the fever’s gone, he just needs to rest and get better on his own.”
“He’s never been sick like this before.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I know how hard it is to see him this way.”
