Page 35 of Adoringly, Edward
Barnaby turned dangerously quiet, and she lifted her head to find him covering his mouth with his hand. “You don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
He lowered himself on a chair near her so they were eye level. But his characteristic smile had long since disappeared in favor of a devastated frown. “The doctor gave Edward less than three months more to live. He likely won’t survive long enough to see his twenty-fourth birthday.”
“Pardon?” she breathed, reaching out to the wall to steady herself when his words rushed over her head, too quickly for her to make sense of. “You must be mistaken. He’s in the prime of his health.”
But then she recalled all the times Edward had been gasping for breath after physical exercise, struggling with even the simplest of tasks.
“He’s had a severe heart condition all his life. He keeps it a secret, as it threatens his title and position as viscount should others learn of it. Only his closest family and friends know of it.” He ran a hand through his golden locks. “It’s only gotten worse in the last year.”
Shock washed over her, filling her blood with a numbing cold. “He told me he was sick for two weeks after the masquerade.”
Barnaby nodded. “His heart can only handle so much. It’s why Clara locks him in the tower. Someone needs to know where he is at all times. It keeps him safe, as much as he hates it. The episodes can be dangerous if he’s alone without help.”
Vivienne scrubbed a hand down her face as the information finally sank in enough for the breath to flee her lungs entirely. “They locked him in his room as he slept for three days when I was there.”
“Like I said, his condition is worsening. I think it was his body’s way of trying to recuperate—by shutting down for a few days.”
She buried her face in her hands as she tried to recall every conversation, every interaction with him. Was this why he wouldn’t entertain a relationship between them? Because he knew he was going to die?
“Why would he keep this from me? I bore my heart and soul to him and he rejected me.”
She felt silly revealing this to a near-stranger, as she and Barnaby were acquaintances at best. But he understood the situation. He was all she had.
A soft chuckle escaped him, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “He went to great lengths to figure out who you were, his masquerading dame. I assure you that if he felt confident that he could pursue you, he would.”
“He does not care for me.”
He shook his head. “No, Vivienne. He cares so much that he’s letting you go. What more can he do? He’s dying.”
Her numbing shock slowly melted until paralyzing fear overcame her. All this time, Edward had been dying?
Now she truly understood why he had wanted to escape by attending the masquerade. Now she truly understood why he’d snuck out and allowed her to sneak in. He wanted to live life before he couldn’t anymore.
Each heartbeat pounded painfully slow as she imagined life without Edward in it. Oh, how he must have been suffering! To keep this from her while pasting a smile on his face.
“I thought he was avoiding me because…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t knowhow. Although it had been a stupid choice to make love to Edward, she could never regret it.
“I am denying any knowledge of the events of the masquerade.” He inspected his nails. “I know nothing.”
Oh, but he certainlydidknow. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who else has Edward told?” she said in a hissing whisper.
“Ah, well, a few of us know. But we’d die before revealing his secret. I promise you.”
Devastation filled her at the thought of losing Edward, especially to sickness. She could not marry the duke knowing Edward might be giving her up because he wasn’t going to last much longer in this life.
She could not do it. Not anymore.
“What do I do, Barnaby?” she asked miserably, scrubbing her hands down her face. She felt lost and confused and terrified for so many different reasons.
“Do about what?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding.
Lowering her voice, she couldn’t help the tremor in her words as she placed a hand over her belly to silently convey her meaning. “What do I do?”
“Dear heavens.” Barnaby ran a hand through his hair, glancing back and forth across the entry room as if to make sure they were alone. “Vivienne, this is serious.”
“I know,” she replied despairingly. “I have been trying to attract Edward’s attention, to get him to propose at least somewhat willingly. But I’m running out of time. And it seems he is, too.”
