Page 101 of Wicked Designs
“How?”
“How?” The men shared a confused look.
“How—” but she couldn’t finish.
Cedric took the glass from Charles and refilled it from a pitcher. “We brought you back from the inn in Blackbriar two days ago, kitten. You’ve been very ill.”
He held the glass out to Emily. She reached for it, but her arms shook. Charles took it and sat down on the bed before he held it to her lips again. She emptied the glass.
“Two…days?”
Charles nodded and tucked a stray lock of hair tenderly behind her ear. “I should tickle you to death for all your foolishness.”
Dark smudges beneath his grey eyes revealed his lack of sleep. Charles had always come across as the most immature, though only a year separated him from Godric and Cedric. But a lined, wearied expression was now fixed to the youthful earl’s countenance. She reached up and touched his cheek. Charles shut his eyes,a tic working in his strong jaw. He caught her hand, kissed it and set it back beneath the covers where it was warm.
She looked to Cedric. He too seemed sick with worry, dark circles under his brown eyes as he hovered nearby.
“The others?”
“Ashton and Lucien are resting. We have been taking shifts to watch over you.”
“And…Godric?” This was what she really wished to know. Where was he? She needed him.
“He—” Cedric paused, as though choosing his words carefully “—is not himself right now.”
“Is he unwell?”
Did the others know what had happened at the inn? Did they know how she’d betrayed him? She remembered the choked sound he’d made when she tried to soothe him. A horrific sound. She’d wanted nothing more than to assure him that she loved him, that she’d only left him to protect him. But he hadn’t given her the chance.
The…idiot. She was not sad, she was furious with him. All she’d needed to do was explain herself and he hadn’t given her the chance. She wanted to slap him, then kiss him, and then slap him again. The damned fool.
“Take me to him now.”
Cedric laid a palm on her shoulder. “He isn’t at his best, kitten. He’s—”
“I don’t care! Take me to him.” She could only manage a whisper that she followed with a forceful stare.
Cedric jumped up. “I’ll go.”
Charles nodded, pulled a pistol out from his waistband, and sat back on the bed, facing the door.
“A gun? He’s…he’s not gone mad, has he?” She reached for the pistol, but Charles pulled out of her reach.
Charles gave her a devil-may-care grin. “It isn’t for Godric, Emily. Lucien and Ashton followed Evangeline Mirabeau to London. They learned that Blankenship hired her to find you, and what he has planned for us. Hence the weapons.”
“Godric knows why I left?”
Charles nodded. “Not until after we returned to the manor. Lucien and Ashton were a bit late to the party, so to speak. Godric has had a rough couple of days. He lost you, tried to kill his brother, now he’s done nothing but drink in his study. Only Simkins has managed see him without getting something thrown at his head. I nearly got beaned with the Bible he threw at me.” Charles chuckled. “Don’t mistake me, Emily, I quite enjoyed the irony. Reminded me of this one lady who threw a vial of holy water at me, expecting me to burn.”
“In all fairness, you did smoke a little,” said Ashton.
Charles scoffed. “It was winter and the water was warm.”
Emily tried to smile but she was caught up by the more salient point.
“Brother?”
“Oh, of course. I suppose you’ve missed a lot of the fireworks. Godric tried to throttle Jonathan. Simkins pointed a gun at Godric and said he can’t kill his half-brother. It turns out Jonathan is the son of the late duke and the lady’s maid to Godric’s mother.”
