Page 76 of The Duke of Ice
Oh God.What if she never woke? The tremors that had shook his frame on the way over returned.
Chalke seemed to notice. “I’ll fetch you some whiskey. Sit with her. It will do her good to know you’re here.”
He looked sharply at the maid. “You think she knows?”
The older woman nodded, her lips pressed together. She seemed certain in her conviction. “I do. She cares for you most fiercely, you know.”
Yes, he knew. And he cared for her. Too damned much.
After Chalke departed, he pulled a chair from the corner and set it next to the bed. He sank onto the cushion and touched her face. It was smooth and cool. There was a bit of color, but not much. She didn’t look lifeless as Jacinda had.
Chalke brought him the whiskey and stayed for a bit, chattering about how she’d come to work for Violet when she’d moved to Bath.
“You weren’t with her when she was married?” he asked, grateful for the diversion of conversation but also curious.
“No. She had a maid her husband hired and apparently her ladyship didn’t care for her. She moved here to Bath to start fresh—new staff, new everything.”
He could understand why she’d wanted to do that. She’d endured a marriage she’d never wanted, and she hadn’t even been able to make the best of it.
“You’ve known her ladyship a long time,” Chalke said softly, her knowing gaze clearly communicating that she was aware of their history.
He didn’t respond since it wasn’t a question. Instead, he pictured Violet as she’d been then, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed in the midday sun as they strolled through the park. Suddenly, he thought of her parents. “Have you sent a note to her parents?”
Chalke pursed her lips. “I was waiting to see if she’d wake. She doesn’t like to see them very often. I’ve only met them once.”
This didn’t surprise him either. But it made him sad. What he wouldn’t give to have his parents alive and well. Still, it wasn’t as if she could control the Caulfields’ behavior. He wondered what they would think of him being here. They’d probably be thrilled. He was, after all, a duke now.
“You should also send a note to Hannah Linford.” While Violet might not want her parents here, she’d want her closest friend. Simon rose in Nick’s mind. He still hadn’t heard from him, and Nick’s mail had been diverted to the house in the Royal Crescent.
“Oh yes, I should. I’ll go and do that straightaway. Here, give me that.” She took his empty glass. “Would you prefer to write to Mrs. Linford?”
He shook his head.
The maid patted his shoulder, startling him with the physical display. “You’ll keep a good eye on her.”
Alone with Violet, he watched her sleep. Was she sleeping? Was that what happened when you hurt your head? He leaned over the bed and gingerly felt for the lump she’d sustained. Christ, it was the size of a goose’s egg. Distraught, he sat back in the chair and sat vigil for who knew how long.
He’d loosened his cravat and unbuttoned his waistcoat long ago. He considered removing his boots when she twitched.
Instantly alert, he leapt to the edge of the chair. “Violet?”
Her eyes fluttered, and her body convulsed. Vomit streamed from her mouth, drenching her front. She gasped, fighting for breath.
He jumped to his feet and put his hands beneath her back, elevating her. “Chalke! Help me!”
He continued to shout until the maid and the butler and another member of her staff came running into the chamber.
“Oh my goodness,” Chalke breathed.
Violet trembled in his arms, and then another seizure racked her body. More of her stomach contents came pouring forth.
The butler dashed to the other side of the room and came back with the empty washbasin. He thrust it beneath her mouth as Nick tried to prop her up.
She sucked in air, her breathing loud and harsh. They all waited, tense, to see if she would be sick again, but after a few minutes, she seemed to be past the crisis. Nevertheless, she continued to shake, and they set to work stripping the bed. The butler removed the soiled bedclothes, leaving the two women to peel away Violet’s night rail.
All the while, Nick whispered soothing words to Violet and rubbed her back. He didn’t know what else to do. He wished he could say he’d never felt so helpless. But he’d felt this way before. Many times. God, he hated this sensation of being absolutely powerless.
Someone fetched water, and they moved Violet to the other side of the bed so Chalke could clean her up. Then the maid braided her hair to the side without the lump. Nick swept Violet up so they could completely change the bedclothes, holding her close against his chest while the maids worked quickly and efficiently.
