Page 26 of Unchaining the Heart of the Marquess
Josephine’s mother stepped forward. “Apologies, My Lord, but the fever was so high, and we could not lower it. Mr. Greeves has had experience with such matters in his own family and recommended immersing her in water to bring it down.”
“Has the doctor been sent for?”
“He has been here and gone. He wanted to bleed her, and Mr. Greeves would not allow it.”
“What place does a lowly footman have in questioning an educated man such as the physician?” Frederick indignantly asked, angered by his audacity.
“I gave him the authority as her mother, My Lord. Mr. Greeves and I have both lost loved ones to a doctor’s overzealous bleeding. He and I are of one accord on the matter, Your Lordship.” Frederick had never seen Mrs. Merton so insistent on a matter. He did not claim to know anything about medical care and had always trusted physicians to know what to do. It had never occurred to him to question their methods.
“My apologies, Mrs. Merton. I did not know. Is it bringing down the fever?”
“It appears to be helping her.” Mrs. Merton nodded, but Frederick could tell that she was still quite frightened for her daughter as she stared down into the water ringing her hands.
“That is good.” Frederick studied Greeves’ face as he supported Josephine’s head and neck moving her body slowly through the water. It was clear that the young footman cared for her. Frederick felt a mixture of jealousy and guilt. Jealousy that she was in Greeves’ arms and guilt that he had not been there for her. He looked around at all of the servants that stood on the shore, worried expressions on their faces, and marveled at how cared for she was. There was not a member of the household that did not love her.
Josephine’s spectral white form floated weightlessly in the very water that had caused her current illness. The very idea made Frederick’s jaw clench in concern. He had just pulled her out the pond days before, and now here she was back in it with Greeves. The wet fabric of her nightdress clung to her body, exposing more of her than was seemly. She was beautiful beyond description. Frederick swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Perhaps an audience is not the best thing at this time, Mrs. Merton.”
Mrs. Merton looked up at him. “As you wish, My Lord.” She motioned for the others to return to their duties.
Josephine whimpered, shivering. The day was warm and pleasant, not the least bit of a chill hung in the air and yet she shivered as if it were wintertime. “Owen,” she whimpered the footman’s name.
“I know it is not pleasant, but we must get your fever down.”
“I am so tired and cold.”
“It is the fever.” Greeves leaned his cheek against her forehead and whispered soothing words into her ear. She reached up and clutched his hand with hers.
Frederick’s heart clenched, causing actual physical pain in his chest. He knew he had no right to such feelings, but he could not help himself. When her shivers ceased, Greeves lifted Josephine up out of the water and carried her to shore. Mrs. Merton unfolded a blanket she had been holding and laid it over her daughter’s sodden nightdress. “My Lord,” Greeves nodded in acknowledgement of Frederick’s presence then passed him to carry Josephine into the house.
Mrs. Merton followed close behind. She reached out to touch her daughter’s skin. “It is working,” she exclaimed in relieved delight.
“We may need to immerse her again, but for now we should get her into some dry clothes and allow her to rest. The fever and coughing have taken much of her strength.”
Frederick fought the urge to take Josephine out of Greeves’ arms. He hated seeing them together.It should have been me helping her, but it can never be.He knew he could not have her, but he did not want Greeves to have her either. In his mind, she deserved better than a footman. Her words chastising him for such thoughts echoed through his mind, and he felt guilty for his uncharitable attitude.
In an effort to make recompense for his invisible sin, he rushed ahead to open the door for Greeves to carry her into the house and upstairs. Josephine did not even acknowledge his existence. Instead, she buried her face in Greeves’ shirt, her arms wrapped around his neck. When Greeves returned her to the bedchamber and moved to allow her privacy so that her mother could help her change, she grabbed for his hand.
“Please do not leave me,” she whispered her eyes pleading for him not to go.
“I will be just outside the door and will return as soon as you are dry,” Greeves promised.
Josephine released his hand and Greeves walked past Frederick in the doorway and stood waiting in the hall as promised. Frederick walked over to Josephine and laid a hand on her forehead. She moved away and shook her head ever so slightly then cringed in pain.
“My Lord?” Mrs. Merton questioned him with a dry night dress in hand.
“Yes, of course. My apologies. I will give you your privacy. I will be in with Mother if you need me.”
As he left the room, he looked back over his shoulder. At one time in their lives, he would have been the one she did not want to be without, but those days were no more. She had truly moved on.
Chapter 14
Frederick entered his mother’s room and found her sleeping. Disappointed, he moved over to the window and stood staring out at the pond below. His mind flashed back to the panic he had felt as he searched the watery depths for Josephine’s drowning form. He remembered the feel of her hair in his hand, the feathery wispiness that had led him to releasing her from the earth’s grasp. Seeing her floating upon its surface with Greeves had brought it all back, the fear, the panic, the despair.
He raked his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, attempting to blot out the image. Instead of doing so, a picture of Greeves laying his head on top of hers flashed through his mind. Josephine’s rejection of Frederick’s touch had hurt him more than he wished to admit. She had never refused him in such a way before. He had known the time would come when she would choose another, he had pushed her to it, but that did not make it hurt any less.
His father had warned him many times that Frederick’s friendship with Josephine would end in heartache and tears. He now understood what the Duke had been talking about. Part of him wished to leave Chescrown for a time and get lost in the glittering social life of London, but he could not, not with the threats that hung over his mother’s head. He had to stay to protect her. It angered him that she refused to help him do so by telling him the truth about the letters.
