Page 90 of Cold November Rake

Her words came slower and thinner. She wobbled on her feet. "I told him... I do not..." She clutched the back of the armchair as her knees folded.

Horror slashed through Sutton's being.

He crossed the room in two strides and caught her against his chest before she could collapse to the floor.

"I am fine, I am..." She looked up at him. "Edward?"

Her whole weight sagged against him, limp and warm and impossibly light. Her head fell back against his arm.

"Temperance." His voice shook. "Temperance, look at me."

She did not answer.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The room had been finished a fortnight ago, the footman said, as he led the way to the countess's chambers. He then bustled about, stoking the fire and lighting the candles, while Sutton laid his wife on her bed.

Temperance had not slept in this room since the renovations began. He wondered whether she had known it was ready and simply preferred to spend the nights with him.

He had preferred it, too. He had not even thought to ask her.

He did not know why he had brought her here now. In a panic, he had simply followed the footman without thinking, after barking at the man to fetch the doctor at once.

Sutton loosened the laces of Temperance's gown, then sat beside her, holding her hand.

Temperance stirred, her eyes opening. "I am so embarrassed, I have no idea..."

"Hush." Sutton pressed a finger to her lips. "You are still weak. You must rest."

"I don't know what happened, but I feel better."

He shook his head. "We do not know that. You could have been poisoned, or something else could be afoot. Please, just stay in bed until the doctor arrives."

"Doctor?" In the dim candlelight, he could have sworn she went even paler. "No. I only overheated in the study. It was rather hot there. I am well."

"Stay." He poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the nightstand and pressed it into her hands. "Drink and rest."

"The guests..."

"My mother will entertain them. Do not worry."

She sank back against the pillows with a huff, muttering something about another embarrassment in front of the ton. Sutton could not have cared less.

She was obviously ill. A light sheen of sweat still covered her skin, and her face was bloodless.

Her attempt to squeeze his fingers was frail, and her hand was cold and clammy. Something twisted in his chest at how small it felt.

"Edward, about Daniel..."

He hated that she still called the man by his Christian name. Not now.

"I shouldn't have reacted like an oaf," he interrupted. "I apologize."

"You shouldn't apologize." She attempted to sit up. "I understand what memories seeing us like that brought back."

Her breaths came in gulps again.

Sutton pressed a hand against her clammy cheek. "Lie back down. It's not important. Nothing is as important as your health. Please, just rest."