Page 32 of Courting Miss Lancaster
“In her more lucid moments,” Persephone confirmed. “I confess, I hoped you would come, if only to set her mind at ease so she can rest.”
“I can see her, then?” Harry asked.
“Adam and I will be there, so there will be no question of impropriety,” Persephone assured him and motioned for him to follow her up another flight of stairs. “You are practically brotherand sister, after all,” she added over her shoulder.
Harry smiled back but inwardly grimaced. Brother and sister? Was that how Athena saw him as well? That was a rather depressing thought. Sure, he could never be a true suitor or husband. But to be viewed in the light of a sibling! That was all well and good with Jane—who wasactuallyhis sister—but not with Athena.
He felt unaccountably nervous entering Athena’s room. Had she really been asking for him? Why? How ill was she? Was she still feverish? Was she truly out of danger, or was the doctor mistaken?
Athena’s bedchamber was filled with bouquets. Word of her illness had, apparently, spread. Harry could identify the sender of each flower arrangement without needing to look at the cards attached. He glanced at each as he walked past.
The overblown arrangement too ornate to be truly tasteful would be from Peterbrook—it was intended to impress with little consideration for the preferences of the recipient.
The small posy that was indistinguishable from every other posy Harry had ever seen would be from Mr. Handley. His good manners would require he send an offering. Handley’s mother would insist it be insignificant.
Harry chuckled as he passed a vase filled with small cuttings from several types of native trees. Mr. Howard. Having Adam reject his written request to court Athena had, apparently, not prevented Mr. Howard from continuing the acquaintance. That showed more backbone than Harry would have expected.
The yellow roses were most likely from Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Hartley. The duchess’s immense adoration of yellow roses was well-known in theton.
Harry paused his progress when he couldn’t immediately place the very impressive and tasteful arrangement set on a table near Athena’s bed. A closer look revealed the signature on thecard. “G. Rigby.”
Rigby?Harry had heard Rigby was under the hatches—it had been the reason he’d been reluctant to introduce the man to Athena the night before. He was not at all ready to broach the topic of the unsuitability of men in need of a wealthy wife. So where, Harry silently demanded, had Rigby found the money for orchids and irises and tulips from a hothouse?
Harry glanced disparagingly at the handful of violets he carried. He’d bought them for a penny from the corner flower girl, as always. No wonder Adam had thought they were weeds. The violets were comparatively pitiful, but Harry hadn’t the means for expensive flowers. He barely had the means for a respectable appearance and the one or two meals a day he was obligated to provide for himself.
“Harry?”
The voice was so quiet that Harry’s heart ached to hear it. He turned toward the bed and let his gaze fall on Athena. She was far too pale, and her eyes were still a bit unfocused, but she was smiling, almost. Trying to keep his expression from betraying the depth of his feelings for Athena, Harry moved to her bedside.
“You see, Adam didn’t kill him after all,” Persephone said from somewhere behind Harry.
Athena’s smile grew ever so slightly. Harry loved to see her smile, even when the effort was so obviously marred by exhaustion and illness.
“He has threatened to do me in countless times,” Harry acknowledged, though he addressed Athena, “but,” he leaned in slightly, shifting his voice to an exaggerated whisper as if he was sharing a very great secret, “he actually is quite embarrassingly fond of me.”
“Idiot,” Harry heard Adam grumble. Just as Persephone had indicated, she and Adam were present in the room as propriety demanded.
“You see, he even uses endearments when speaking of me,” Harry added with what he was certain was a mischievous grin.
“Give the girl your pathetic bouquet and get this over with,” Adam commanded. Harry glanced quickly over his shoulder at Adam sitting in a chair looking thoroughly annoyed. Part of him wanted to believe the “pathetic” descriptor was more a reflection of Adam’s mood than of Harry’s offering. Though he knew it was hardly impressive, the posy was all he could manage.
“Did you bring me flowers, Harry?” Athena asked. She didn’t sound surprised, which was good, nor did she sound displeased, which was even better.
“I brought you a pathetic handful of weeds,” Harry corrected with a chuckle. He held the humble flowers up where she could see them, bracing himself for her look of disappointment.
She looked... confused. “Those aren’t weeds,” she said, brow a little furrowed. “They are violets.”
“Yes, but Adam did not know that.” Again he employed his secret-sharing tone. “And I have found it is best not to point out to the Dastardly Duke when he is wrong about something.”
“Even when that Dastardly Duke affectionately calls you an idiot?” Athena answered, her tone teasing but her voice weak and her face growing paler.
“Especially then,” Harry answered, trying to keep his expression light despite his concern. He reminded himself that an adoptive brother of sorts would not be more concerned than an actual sister or a brother-in-law. He needed to keep his reactions on equal footing with Adam’s and Persephone’s.
“I like violets,” Athena said, her words a little slow.
“I thought you might,” Harry answered, lowering his voice as he watched her lying there, all but disappearing into the pillow beneath her head. She was far too pale. He resisted the urge to smooth the hair away from her face, to touch her cheek, to see for himself if her fever was, indeed, under control.
“I was hoping you would come by,” Athena said quietly.
