Page 24 of Adoringly, Edward
“Yeeeeah.” He shuffled his feet. “Sorry.”
“You could have rang for me, despite the late hour. I would have brought more firewood.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
Despite wanting to overhear more of the conversation, her reputation was at stake. When Cedric’s attention was occupied with folding up the blankets, she slipped around the door and into the stairwell, trying to keep as silent as possible as she descended the stairs to the ground level of the estate.
Hushed whispers and clanging silverware reached her ears from around the corner. She fled in the opposite direction, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one spotted her.
Sure, she shouldn’t have stayed the night with Edward. But his voice had been so soothing. It brought back memories of some of the happiest times of her life. She’d felt safe with him, and she hadn’t wanted to leave his side for a single moment.
But she’d also been careless. It wouldn’t happen again.
The banging silverware and voices became more frantic behind her. Curiosity urged her to return the way she’d come. But self-preservation won out, telling her to continue forward.
She rounded the corner, only to gasp as she ran into Clara.
“Forgive me,” Vivienne said, wrapping her cloak more securely around her shoulders. “I am so embarrassed about my state of undress. I went out for air and lost track of time.” But when Clara’s lips thinned, she hurried to change the subject. “Why are you up at such an early hour?”
Clara’s attention turned toward the hallway. “I heard my brother is awake. I wanted to see for myself.” The woman’s careful expression crumbled, and she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I am so afraid of losing him. I thought for sure he was leaving us and suffering me to manage the estate without him. Whatever would we do?”
Vivienne patted the other woman’s shoulder, trying to offer some measure of comfort. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing at all. Edward was well. She’d seen him herself only minutes prior.
“I’m sure he’s just fine,” she reassured. “Perhaps checking on him will help relieve your worries.”
With a nod, Clara continued on her way.
Her pulse calming a fraction, Vivienne picked up her pace until she reached her chambers, slamming the door behind her. Her breaths quickened as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool stone wall.
That had been close.
She never wanted to force Edward’s hand, and ruining her reputation and threatening his was a quick way for him to resent her.
Her eyes flashed open, and with determined strides, she crossed the room and threw her wardrobe open to reveal several dresses her own servants had dropped by days earlier. She sifted through fabrics consisting of green, blue, and yellow hues until her fingers brushed against a light blue gown that complimented her complexion and hugged her in all the right places.
She’d always felt lovely and feminine in this dress.
If it didn’t help her catch Edward’s eye, then she didn’t know what would.
“Stick out your tongue,” Doctor Greaves instructed, and Edward nearly gagged on the stick he placed at the back of his throat.
The man’s mouth pinched, his eyes hardening as he finished the examination by checking his pulse. “I won’t lie to you,” he said, finally sitting straight in his chair and lifting his gaze. “Yourcondition has worsened. I cannot guarantee you will last the remainder of the year.”
A cold disbelief washed through Edward’s veins as he stared back at the man. “There are less than three months left of the year.”
“Precisely.” Greaves frowned as he returned his medical equipment to his bag. “I do not like to be the bearer of bad news, Lord Beaumont. But it would be wise to create a will, if you haven’t already.”
Slowly, a numbness crawled up Edward’s legs, his torso, and settled as ice in his chest. He barely heard Clara arguing with the doctor, saying he must be mistaken. He could hardly pay attention when his sister began sobbing, when she yelled and screamed, several servants having to hold her back from hitting the doctor.
All he managed was to stare into his lap as shock coursed through him, unable to bring himself to move a single muscle, even as Greaves packed up and left the estate.
This couldn’t be the truth. Only months left to live? How could his life get cut short so suddenly? It couldn’t possibly be real.
Before anyone managed to lock him back in his room, he floated numbly down the stairs, grabbed his coat from a hook in the entryway, and placed his hand on the smooth door handle of the exit.
“Edward!” Clara shouted after him, rushing into the room. He couldn’t bother himself to lift his gaze when his attention remained fixed on the marble floors. “Don’t you dare set foot outside. It’s snowing heavily. You’ll catch a chill.”
“If you want to be included in the will,” Edward hissed, “then you will allow me a few minutes to myself.”
