Page 92 of Wicked Rivals
Time seemed to slow down. A carriage raced through the dark street and struck Lord Lennox. The horse screamed, and it drowned out the shouts of the man it trampled. Ashton’s legs were rooted to the ground. The breath rushed out of his lungs. He was unable to move or speak as chaos erupted around him. Men rushed out to aid the distressed driver of the carriage.
“Dead! The man is dead!” Someone’s cry cut through the fog of shock and horror that held Ashton prisoner. He raced down the steps and skidded to a stop a few feet away from his father’s crumpled body.
“Who is it?” the driver demanded.
Numb, Ashton stepped forward. “He’s my father.”
“Hewasyour father,” the dark-haired young man with the cane said. “Drunken fool.” The man walked back into the club, leaving Ashton to stand there, lost, as his world crashed down around him.
“Ashton, please, be strong.” A sweet voice danced around the corners of the pain flooding his head and his heart.
Tears stained his cheeks, but he felt too weak to lift his limbs. Darkness captured him again, dragging him down to where even fevered nightmares could not reach him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sweat coated Ashton’s brow, and his fevered murmurs broke Rosalind’s heart. She held her breath each time Ashton’s chest rose and fell, fearing it would be his last.
The illness had claimed another three lives in the village since Ashton and Rafe had fallen ill three days ago. Terror had swept through Lennox House, but Rosalind had refused to leave Ashton’s side. Her heart lodged in her throat whenever he lay too still in his sheets.
He had tossed about restlessly for the last hour before sinking into another frightening silence. His breathing had become shallow and his skin clammy to the touch. Every muscle in Rosalind’s body tensed as she studied him, searching for any sign that he was slipping away from her.
You won’t leave me, Lennox. Not like this. I demand a fair fight with you, you coward. I want…She prayed he could hear her thoughts. She was too afraid to utter them aloud.I want to marry you.
“How is he?” Regina stood by the doorway, her eyes red.
The two of them had become Rafe and Ashton’s caretakers. Regina hadn’t wanted anyone else to risk exposure, and Rosalind had agreed. They’d sent the younger servants away, and only the most stubborn had insisted upon staying. Rosalind was barely aware of anything happening outside of Ashton’s bedroom.
There was some strange part of her that felt that if she were to lose focus on him for even one minute, she would lose him. She felt as though her strength was helping him to stay with her. It was foolish, but she wanted so desperately to believe she could do something to help him through this.
“He’s sleeping again. I cannot tell if he’s better when he’s still or when he’s restless.” Her voice was a little shaky, the barest hint of the storm raging inside her heart. Rosalind’s hands trembled as she removed the cloth on his brow and replaced it with a fresh one.
Regina came in and sat down next to Rosalind.
Rosalind leaned into Ashton’s mother, needing just one minute to rest and recover. She and Regina had become close these past two days, like soldiers defending a fort entirely on their own. They had learned to read the evidence of tears in each other’s eyes, the language of sorrow and grief, the flicker of hope and the glint of raw determination to see these dark days through.
She had always felt so alone after her mother had died, but now, facing losing Ashton, she’d longed for someone to take care of her in these rare moments of weakness. Regina had done just that, having seen to her care without a thought to herself. It was something she’d seen glimpses of in Ashton. That sense of selflessness toward those he loved.
Ashton’s mother touched the back of her hand to Rosalind’s forehead, testing for a fever. “How are you?”
Rosalind sighed wearily. “I’ve survived much hardship in my life, but I’ve never felt so helpless as I do now.”
When her father had been in a foul mood, he’d sometimes lock her in her room for days without food and only a pitcher of water. But those days paled in comparison to this battle, which she could not fight herself. It was up to Ashton to survive this on his own. She could only watch and wait and do what little she could to make him comfortable.
“Your previous husband, was he…” Regina trailed off.
“No,” Rosalind said. “Henry was a good man. My father was a brute. When at last I ran away, Henry rescued me from that life.” She reached out and brushed a lock of Ashton’s hair back from his face. “But this—this dreadful waiting—it’s far worse.”
“I know, my child. I know. We wish to fight the battles of the ones we love the most, but often we cannot.” Regina curled an arm around her shoulders, giving her a sweet hug. Her mother used to do that, she remembered, many years ago, when life had not been so full of pain and shadows.
Ashton’s lips moved, making Rosalind and Regina tense, but the words weren’t comprehensible.
“He said something about his father earlier,” Rosalind said.
Regina swallowed and nodded. “He was barely a young man when his father died. He doesn’t talk about it, but I know he still suffers. He was there, you see, when it happened. It must haunt him beyond reason to have witnessed something so terrible at so young an age.” Her eyes darkened with the weight of tears. “I see so much of my Malcolm in him, and it reminds me of what I lost. I have always been hard on him, and that is my sin to bear. I only wish I’d told him how much I do love him.” Ashton’s mother suddenly began to cry, and Rosalind hugged her back, offering the last bit of her own strength.
Rosalind stroked Ashton’s arm. “He has a great heart. One he hides. He isn’t cold. He can be insufferable and stubborn, but he’s loving and warmhearted too. I misjudged him.”
Regina sniffed. “It seems I have been a worse mother than I thought.”
