Page 63 of Vying for a Viscount
“Yes, for a brief time. I gave him several spoonfuls of broth.”
“Good. He needs to keep up his strength.”
“I’m afraid for his lungs. I heard them rattling.”
“Yes. It’s not a good sign. Doctor Hanson is due to arrive soon. We are watching him closely and doing all we can.”
“Thank you,” Letitia said, standing. She placed her hand on Greyson’s cheek, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying. “Thank you,” she said again to the nurse as she took her leave. Her legs barely held her up as she made the trek out the door and into the hall, where she leaned against the wall. She wrapped her arms around herself, bowed her head, and gave in to her despair. How had Greyson, over the course of several days, come to be on death’s door?
Soft voices and footsteps in the corridor had her raising her head and swiping away her tears. Hunter, Anastasia, and Aurora came into view. They would learn soon enough how sick Greyson was.
“How is he?” All three asked at once, their expressions hopeful.
She tried to school her features, but failed miserably as her face fell and tears continued to fall. How many tears could one cry? “It is bad. Go see him.” They entered the room, and Letitia stayed where she was until she felt she could rejoin Knight and Charlotte in the drawing room. She joined them a few minutes later to find them sitting together on the settee, with a fresh serving of tea, sandwiches, and fruit and cheese on the table between the two sofas.
Knight stood as Letitia entered the room, looking hopeful. “How is he?”
“I don’t know. But there’s a rattle in his lungs that worries me,” she said.
“Sit, Letitia, before you collapse,” Knight said, wrapping an arm through hers and escorting her to sit beside Charlotte, where he previously sat.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Knight. I prefer Knight.”
“Even by those who know nothing about your club or the Black Knights?”
“I don’t socialize with many people who don’t know about one or the other of those things,” he said, his dark eyebrow raised. “For obvious reasons.”
It was strange how the more times she came into contact with him, the less she focused on the mask hiding his burn scars, and the more she saw the whole gentleman. The mask was just a part of him, the only way she’d ever known him.
“I see.” And she did. She could imagine the stares he would draw at a ball. Charlotte poured her tea and placed two tiny sandwiches on a plate for her.
“You should eat something, my dear,” Charlotte said, looking concerned. “You are very pale.”
“Thank you.” Letitia picked up the cup of tea and sipped. If her stomach settled after she drank it, she would risk some food. “When is the doctor due back?”
Knight paced the room, sipping from a glass that looked like brandy. “Soon. I sent a footman to fetch him.”
“I’m glad.”
“Did he wake up when you were with him?” Charlotte asked, stood, went to the sideboard, and returned with a decanter of golden liquid, splashing a dash into both their teas. “I think we could use a little brandy to settle our nerves.”
“Thank you,” Letitia said, wholeheartedly agreeing. “He did wake up. He seemed lucid. Had some chicken broth, then fell back asleep. My imagination is running wild with concern.” All her emotions were muddled, making it hard to sort things out. She didn’t often panic over little things, like when her son caught a cold. However, given what Knight said about the rusty, dirty pitchfork, there was much to be concerned about for Greyson.
“Both Charlotte and I discussed our concerns about his lungs. I have to keep believing that Greyson is strong and a fighter, and that he will be out of that bed, walking around, and riding his horse in no time.” He paused and looked right at her, his dark eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. “I can’t allow myself to think otherwise.”
She understood his dilemma. As the leader of the Black Knights, he felt responsible for his Knights. He took anything that befell them as a personal affront. He believed he was responsible for whatever happened to them. Just as he felt responsible for the men who served under him in the Navy. The man had a huge heart.
A footman entered the drawing room, spoke briefly with Knight, and then left. “Doctor Hanson has arrived and gone up to see Greyson.”
A tiny bit of Letitia’s insides eased at the doctor’s return. Moments later, Hunter, Anastasia, and Aurora entered the room. Greyson’s sisters looked a mess, with red, blotchy faces and swollen eyes from crying. She suspected it was very much what she must have looked like when she’d entered the drawing room and Knight hurried to her side to assist her in taking a seat. Hunter, pale and worried, had an arm around each of the twins, and the three of them squished onto the vacant settee opposite Charlotte and her. Knight hurried over with an empty glass, splashed some brandy into it, and handed it to Hunter.
“You look like you could use this.”
“Thank you,” Hunter said, downing it in one swallow.
In the meantime, Charlotte poured tea for the twins, adding a splash of brandy to each cup.
