Charlie simply waved a hand over his shoulder. Sighing, Rafe headed into the house. And immediately felt the tension in the air. He stopped. What was going on? Something was really not right.

“Lord Mowbray!”

Rafe looked up. Manning was hurrying down the stairs, his face flushed. He looked like he had been running. Rafe went to him.

“Manning, what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“I thought…I thought you were Doctor Grace.” Manning was breathing heavily as he stopped, clutching onto the banister. “He should be here any minute now.”

“What are you talking about?” Rafe went cold. “Is it Father? Has he gotten worse?”

“He…he collapsed shortly after lunch. He didn’t come around as we took him to his bed, but he’s still breathing.”

His father was seriously ill? Rafe felt his stomach sink to his feet.

“And Doctor Grace hasn’t arrived yet?”

“It took us a while to find him. He sent a message once we found him that he would be along as soon as he could.” Manning swallowed. “And that’s not all.”

“Not all?”

“It’s…it’s your brother. He’s ill as well. He collapsed and fell down the stairs a short while ago.”

***

Rafe stood by the window and listened to his brother’s laboured breathing. It hurt him to hear Sebastien, who was always so strong and healthy, to be so sick. Now he looked like he was at death’s door.

He was still in a daze about what was going on. True, his father had been unwell recently, and he had sent Rafe off to do his business in his place. But Rafe had thought it would pass, and Blackmore would recover easily enough. He was just going to be a bit delicate.

Now he was dead. He had passed away that morning. Rafe had felt like he was living in a nightmare as he sat beside his father’s bedside, holding his hand as Blackmore slipped away. He couldn’t fight back anymore. Rafe didn’t know which of them had been crying more at that point. He could still see his father’s body with tears streaking his very red cheeks. It just made him cry even more.

Rafe didn’t think it was possible to shed this many tears after being accused of murder and then losing his mother without seeing her again.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Sebastien was just as sick. Scarlet fever, Doctor Grace had said. It was pretty bad. How none of the servants were as ill as his family was nothing short of a miracle, according to the doctor. But everyone had been told to restrict themselves to their rooms as much as possible in case they were also infected.

Rafe knew he should be in his bedchamber, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay there. He had lost his parents, and now Sebastien was sick. After being away for so long, he couldn’t bring himself to keep his distance. What if Sebastien also died as well?

No, he wasn’t going to die. Sebastien was young. He would get through this as well.

“Rafe?”

Rafe turned. Sebastien’s eyes were open, which he could see in the dimness. He shifted around, which had Rafe hurrying over.

“Sebastien? How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been dragged through hell and back again, while the devil himself is hanging onto my coattails.”

Rafe couldn’t bring himself to laugh at that. He sat on the edge of the bed.

“Is your throat still bad?”

“And I feel like I’m lying in a fire pit right now.” Sebastien licked her dry lips. “Is there a fire in here?”

“No, the hearth is empty. I can open the window, if you want.”

“Doctor Grace said…that I needed to sweat it out.”

“And in my experience, that just makes things worse.” Rafe gestured towards the windows. “Just tell me, and I’ll open them.”