Page 36 of Elixir of a Duchess' Passion
“I was worried that you were not in any fit state to do so yourself,” Harold admitted, shrugging his shoulders as though it was no big deal. “And in truth, I have been growing steadily more concerned for your well-being.”
“I am not the first nobleman to have fallen from horseback,” Elijah pointed out with a grunt of frustration. Yet the gnawing sensation in his stomach told him that his cousin had told his parents about far more than that.
His worst fears were confirmed when Harold replied, “Do not think I have not noticed your steady decline in health, cousin.”
The nausea in his gut grew tenfold and threatened to choke him. He stared back at his cousin, terrified at the thought of what Harold might have said to his parents.
Of course, news of his illness would not shock his mother, but to the rest of his family, it would likely be devastating.
“What exactly did you say, Harold?” he demanded through gritted teeth, sitting bolt upright in bed with his hands still tightened into fists in the sheets.
“I told them of your health and implored them to visit,” Harold said, holding his head high as though he was mighty proud of his decision.
Elijah’s throat constricted, and it took all he had in him to grumble, “You should not have done that.”
“Well, it was quite clear that you were never going to admit to needing more help than I can provide,” Harold snapped back at him, and Elijah’s stomach clenched.
“I did not ask you here to help me!” he snarled back at his cousin, his fists slamming the mattress. “In fact, I was left with the impression it was my mother who requested your presence here. I have had no real need of you.”
Elijah saw hurt flash through his cousin’s gaze. He almost felt sorry for him. After all, Harold was just doing as he had been asked, acting like a chaperone to a grown man deemed unfit to make his own decisions after all his mistakes back in London.
Maybe Harold was right to tell his family of his illness. Perhaps Elijah should have done it himself long ago.
“Elijah, ever since you arrived in Oxfordshire, you have denied the very existence of your illness. But I am not blind, and any man can see that you grow worse by the day,” Harold said, clearly having given up on Elijah’s need to continue with the farce of pretending.
Elijah’s stomach clenched, and his throat constricted. Deep down, he had known this day would come. He just hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon.
“Those around you, those who care about you,” Harold continued, glowering at Elijah with a hint of anger in his gaze, “we all deserve to know the truth. I suspect your mother already knows, and it is truly why she asked me to come and keep an eye on you.”
Again, Elijah cringed. His cousin was likely right. Where his father believed him just to be a no-good, drunk letch with womanising problems, his mother did indeed know the truth. He remembered once again the several letters she had sent begging him to let her tell his father about his illness, and with a little guilt, he thought about how he had failed to respond of late, too caught up in other things.
An image of Lady Belmont standing in his bedroom the night before popped into his mind, and he shivered at the memory. His skin grew feverish as he pondered how he had touched her, how her body had felt pressed against his own. He imagined what it might have been like had he actually managed to get her into bed.
“Elijah?” Harold snapped, and from the look on his cousin’s face, it was clear he had still been talking though Elijah couldn’t have repeated a single word of what he had said.
“Sorry,” Elijah said, shaking his head and pulling back the bed sheets. “I did not sleep well last night.”
“Did Doctor Wallis not give you something to help you with that?” Harold asked, eyebrow raised. The concern that darkened his gaze made Elijah nauseous. He hated whenever someone looked at him like that.
“He did,” he responded through gritted teeth.But I didn’t take it.
He didn’t even dare to glance towards the bedside table in case his cousin realised the truth and tried to force the vile liquid down him.
Lady Belmont’s tonic had done the job without making him groggy or lethargic. Yet it hadn’t managed to wipe away the memory of her presence or that her perfume had lingered in his bedroom for long after she had gone.
From the moment he had heard the front door of the manor slamming shut the night before, he had been fighting the urge to go after her. He had even struggled to stop himself from sending a servant after her, knowing she would not appreciate such a thing. Lady Belmont was far too independent to appreciate his overbearing need to take care of her. She was the healer, and it was quite clear she was unused to things being the other way around.
How could I care for her in my state anyway?Elijah asked himself, once more distracted from his conversation with his cousin until Harold cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Well then? Will you not tell me what ails you?” he demanded, straightening his back and staring right into Elijah’s eyes as he pushed himself up from the bed to dress.
Though the ache in his stomach had returned somewhat, he did not find himself coughing and bringing up blood as he had been for several mornings now, which was a relief. If only so Harold would not bear witness to it.
Even so, he knew the time had come. If his parents were indeed on their way to Oxfordshire to take care of him, then it would only be a matter of time before things started to change anyway.
Though he was still wearing his britches and tunic from the night before, having crawled into bed too exhausted to change, Elijah did not bother to grab his robe. Instead, he turned to Harold and sucked in a deep breath before explaining, “There is no easy way to say this, Harold, so I shall just say it.”
He paused just long enough to see the concern growing upon his cousin’s face. The way the man’s eyes darkened and his skin paled made him look almost as sick and feverish as Elijah was feeling, though he guessed if he looked in the mirror, he would likely look far worse.
