“Thomas has a fever.” She hiccupped, then continued. “The doctor said he has a serious infection because of his diseased appendix. He said to be prepared for the worst because he could die.”
Myles felt blindly for the closest chair and sank his shaky and suddenly weak body into it. “No,” he murmured. The single word was followed by several colorful curses he would not apologize for saying. He knew Emma would understand.
“I need to see him.” Myles stood slowly, walked up the stairs and down the long corridor to his friend’s rooms. He knocked quietly and entered. Wentworth’s mother sat in a chair, positioned beside the bed, holding her son’s hand as Myles approached. “Do you mind if I visit?”
His friend’s mother looked up with tears in her eyes, and Myles swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Dear God, she seemed to have aged years since yesterday at the wedding. He too fought the burning tears threatening to escape his eyes. “How is Wentworth?” The dowager duchess shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“I understand. I can see for myself.” And Myles could. Wentworth’s sweating brow showed he burned up with fever. His breathing was rapid and labored, and he moved restlessly in the large bed. Moans escaped Wentworth’s mouth time and time again. Myles thought he recognized several words but could not be sure. His friend was delirious with fever.
“I can stay with him, if you would like some time to yourself or to spend time with the girls,” Myles offered.
Once again she shook her head and didn’t move.
“Why don’t I send Isabella and Amelia in then?” Again Myles received no answer.
Out in the hall again, he leaned back against the wall and tried to catch his breath. His throat burned and tears leaked from his eyes. Myles closed them to wipe out the picture of Wentworth, lying sick and delirious in his bed. How could this man face death when Myles needed him? When others needed him, too?
“Dear God, don’t take him. Wentworth has so much to live for. He is the most honorable person I know.”
The sound of soft footsteps, shuffling down the hallway though muffled by the thick rug, had him opening his eyes and stepping away from the wall. Myles came face to face with Amelia, Bella, and Amesbury. By their worried expressions he assumed Emma had spoken with them.
“You heard?” he asked.
Myles took one look at Bella’s tear-soaked face and reacted. He held his arms out to her, and Bella stepped into them as though she belonged there. Myles wrapped his shaking arms around her waist, her head resting upon his chest. Bella’s tears soaked his shirt, and his body shivered.
***
Later that day Myles watched over Wentworth, giving both Emma and the dowager duchess time to rest. They needed time to themselves, and he needed to do something besides sit in the drawing room drinking tea and eating biscuits. Besides, he needed to get something off his chest. Even though his friend could not hear him or respond, he needed to tell him.
“Wentworth, remember when I told you I loved Bella, but not in a husbandly way? Well, I think I might have been wrong. I think I do love her. It’s not quite what I felt for Sophie, because I finally realize what I felt for Sophie was infatuation, not real.” Myles paused and began pacing around. “Bloody hell, this is hard to put into words. I believe I do love Bella. But still, I hesitate to act too quickly because maybe what she feels for me is more like a young girl’s love. Not the love of a grown woman. Like a girl worships an unlikely hero. And tonight when I consoled her I realized it was right. I wanted to protect and love her…in every way. I do want her for my wife.” Frustrated, he sank back down into the hard chair.
“I’m saying this poorly. I want to make sure she really loves me. Therefore, I have decided not to profess my love for her… I’ll let her enjoy the season and have suitors so she will be completely and utterly sure she loves me.”
Once again he popped up and paced the room. “I sound like a bloody idiot. What if she falls in love with someone else while I drag my feet?” He stood beside Wentworth’s bed.
“Please wake up, friend. Your family needs you. Too many hearts will break if you die.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Not much changed in the four days that followed. Then, in the early morning of the fifth day after the fever set in, Emma awoke in bed beside her husband as she had done each morning since their wedding night. Only this morning the room was still and silent.
The strange quiet sent Emma’s heart pounding. She kicked the covers off and rose to her knees. He was so still. In a panic, Emma placed her ear on his chest and prayed his heart still beat.