Page 47 of Trapped with a Wicked Duke
Rose moved in and not caring about propriety, hurried to Thomas's side. She felt his pulse and saw that it was weak. His muscles spasmed and his body jerked. She knew she needed to act fast. She looked at Mr. James and said, "Get me a bowl of water and a cloth. Hurry!"
She quickly tore open Thomas's shirt and saw that his skin was starting to turn blue. She didn't need to be a physician to know what was happening. Poppy had poisoned him!
The Dowager Duchess rushed into the sitting room, her eyes wide with alarm. "What has happened?" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw Thomas on the floor.
"Poppy poisoned him," Rose said, her voice calm despite the surrounding chaos. "I need to prepare an antidote."
"Poisoned!" The Dowager Duchess let out a scream. "We must send for a physician at once!"
"You. Boy. Go at once for a physician!" Mr. James yelled at a servant, who poked his head into the sitting room to see what the commotion was.
"It will be too late," Rose said, her heart pounding. "I must make the antidote now. Keep him calm, and make sure he doesn't choke if he becomes sick."
With one last look at Thomas, she raced out of the sitting room and down the hall to the library. She pushed open the door and hurried over to the shelves where her plants were kept. Her hands were shaking as she reached for a pitcher of water, her herbs, and her mortar and pestle. She tried to remember the correct formula for the antidote. When she spilled some of the water, she bit back an oath. She had to be careful and precise. Thomas's life was in her hands. She ground the herbs into a paste and mixed it with the water, her thoughts focused solely on Thomas and the need to revive him.
As she mixed the ingredients, her mind focused solely on saving Thomas. The sound of the Dowager Duchess's sobs and Mr. James's worried voice faded into the background as she worked. She wouldn't let Thomas die. She couldn't. After what seemed an interminably long time, the antidote was finally ready. Carefully, she measured the antidote into a glass tumbler and stirred it in the water.
Rose rushed back to the sitting room with the glass tumbler in hand. Mr. James had moved Thomas to the sofa and the Dowager Duchess was sobbing and fretting by his side because the physician was running late.
"Mr. James, help me," Rose said, handing him the glass. "We must get this into his mouth."
Mr. James nodded and took the glass from her. With gentle hands, he tipped the tumbler to Thomas's lips and poured the antidote into his mouth. Some dribbled out and the Dowager Duchess moaned. "It's too late."
But Rose refused to give up hope. "No, it's not too late. We have to keep trying." She held Thomas's head up, urging him to drink. The antidote trickled down his chin, but she continued to pour. Finally, she saw a flicker of movement in his eyes. She looked at Mr. James, who nodded in encouragement.
"Come on, Thomas," she whispered. "You can do this."
With a start, Thomas's eyes flew open. He gasped for air, and his chest began to rise and fall. The Dowager Duchess let out a cry of relief, and Rose and Mr. James both exhaled deeply.
But their relief was short-lived. Thomas's eyes closed again, and his body sagged against her.
"Thomas, no!" Rose cried out, cradling his head in her lap. She couldn't lose him now, not after everything they had been through. Rose watched anxiously as Thomas lay there, still and unmoving. Her mind raced with worry as she felt her heart pounding in her chest. She had to save him. She had to.
"Come on, Thomas," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. "Please, come back to me."
The Dowager Duchess was still sobbing, her handkerchief pressed to her face. "Oh, Thomas," she cried. "Please, please come back to us."
Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing the antidote to work. She felt Thomas's hand stir in hers and she opened her eyes to see him gasping for air. "Thomas," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "You're going to be all right. I am here."
Thomas opened his eyes and squinted at the bright light. The room was fuzzy and he couldn't make out any shapes. He tried to sit up, but a hand gently pushed him back down.
"Just lie still, Your Grace," a familiar voice said. "You've been poisoned."
Poisoned? He tried to recall what had happened, but his mind was blank. He remembered sitting in the sitting room with Poppy, but beyond that, everything was a blur. Suddenly, a face came into focus. Rose? She looked worried and was holding a glass tumbler to his lips.
"Drink this, Thomas," she said, her voice shaking. "It's the antidote."
He frowned, trying to make sense of what was happening. He had sent her away. Why was she here? And why was she callinghim Thomas? He tried to shake his head, but she pressed the tumbler to his lips.
"Just drink it, Thomas," she repeated. "It will make you better."
He took a sip and made a face at the bitter taste. He heard his mother's voice, "Please, Thomas. You must drink it all."
Mr. James chimed in, "Your Grace, I implore you, drink the entire glass. It's the only way to save you."
He felt Rose's hand slip behind his head, lifting it slightly, and he took a sip. The liquid was bitter, but he drank it down, his eyes never leaving hers. He could see the worry in her gaze, and he wanted to reassure her he was going to be fine. But as he closed his eyes, he felt the darkness taking him under once more. He didn't know what was happening, but he trusted Rose. If she said he was going to be all right, he believed her.
Thomas groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. He felt groggy and disoriented. Where was he? He looked around and saw that he was in his own bedchamber. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his head forced him to lie back down. He rubbed his temple and squinted, trying to focus. That was when he saw Dr. Carson sitting in a chair next to his bed.
