Page 56 of A Winter with the Rakish Duke

Chapter 27

Asingle candle burned alongside the hissing fireplace, the room dim and dark yet warm enough. Ellie hadn’t moved, but Simon frequently moved by her side, trying to feed her steaming chicken broth so she would remain nourished.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath. He wasn’t sure what for, but a part of him was beginning to be convinced it was his fault this happened. The same way it happened with Maddie. It was a consequence of his recklessness and irresponsibility. Had he taken care of the stables weeks ago when Richard had warned him, this would never have occurred. Walter would have been safe, and Ellie would have been safe.

He clenched his fist, a groan of fear and frustration escaping his lips. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to care for someone this much, get this close to them, for he knew bad things could happen, just as they happened back then. He truly was the cursed Duke. First, it was his parents who faced the misfortune, then Maddie, and now Ellie, the woman he had learned to love more than life itself in such a short period of time.

He laid beside her above all the covers and rested his eyes against the pillow, his mind tumbling between exhaustion and deep regret. Until finally, with no warning, his eyes gradually closed, permitting him to sleep and pushing the blurriness and aching aside.

But as his eyes finally opened again, he wasn’t in his chambers, next to Ellie. He was lying outside in the hail, near the deep, rocky cliff, a puddle of blood and wooden panes surrounding him.

It was difficult to move, his muscles felt as if they had been thrashed for hours and he crawled away, toward the source of a helpless figure that was laying on the ground.

She faced downwards, her arms stretched out in an uncomfortable position, and blood spilled from her stomach and head. There was no sign of breathing or movement, and he doubted she was alive for a moment. It felt horrifying. His muscles were out of control as they forced him to crawl toward the figure.

“No!” he yelled out. He didn’t want to do this now, there was no time. He couldn’t.

But his limbs didn’t obey, continuing to move toward the lifeless figure. One step at a time. Until they reached her and sluggishly turned her over. His eyes shut tightly, expecting to see Maddie, but as he pried them open once again, his heart froze, and his arms dropped to his side. It was Ellie.

“Ellie!” he screamed, holding her in his arms. “No, no, please, not like this.” She was dead, unmoving. He cradled her slowly, hoping for her to wake up, open her eyes, breathe, anything. Yet she stayed still in his arms, lifeless.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he held her as tightly as he could, pressing his face into her once soft and silky hair as he screamed out in pain. “No, not you…”

A soft tapping against the door roused him from his sleep. His eyes opened drowsily, and he found himself falling to the ground, his head meeting with the white marbled floor of his chambers. He struggled to his feet, wheezing as he searched for Ellie, needing to see her again. He needed to make sure she was still okay.

He clawed himself up to his feet, moving across to her, checking for any sign of life. Her chest stirred up and down with a struggle, but she was alive. She was alive. He rolled over to the side of the bed, rustling his hair in apprehension, while at the same time holding her hand to keep a hold of her pulse.

Another thud echoed behind the door.

“Who is there?” he asked.

The mysterious person carefully opened and shut the door behind them, remaining as silent as possible. It was difficult to see in the dark—the figure was merely a silhouette in front of the dim fireplace, but as they paced closer to the bed, it was easier to notice the familiar wrinkles, tallness, and messy hair. Walter. There was a frown on his face as the scent of medicine and illness took hold of anyone who entered the room.

“Is she doing okay, Your Grace?”

“She hasn’t woken up,” Simon replied. “Her body is chilled, her whimpers have seized, and she’s only accepting sips of broth.”

Saying it out loud was worse than he thought. It was one thing to clench tightly—as if one’s life depended on it—on the signs of possible recovery, but to admit and utter the worrisome symptoms was something he had refused to do from the start, no matter how much everyone else did. His blood turned stone-cold at this. Ellie was dying.

“Prudence said this much. Are you all right?”

“Blast it, man, what do you want? Unless you’re here to offer a miracle, I suggest you take your leave.” Simon hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but something close to anger pushed him to.

Walter cleared his throat. “Not a miracle, Your Grace,” he said. “I want to fetch the country’s doctor. I know the streets better than anyone and—”

“There is a storm, Walter. I can’t afford to risk another life.”

“And I can navigate through a storm with no trouble. The stallions are trained for it,” he quickly added. “Please, Your Grace, I am living on time Lady Ellie bought me—I cannot sit back and do nothing.”

Simon looked between the window—a terrifying flurry of hail on blankets of sleet—and Walter—a feeble mess—in a fit of doubt. Of course, there was no doubt about the man’s abilities, it was the reason Simon hired the trusted stableboy after all, but the storm was a cruel thing. The last thing he needed was Walter being trapped outside in that merciless tempest. Simon would go himself, but he couldn’t risk leaving her alone, and besides, he wouldn’t make half the distance Walter could travel.

“I can sense your doubt, Your Grace, but I’m confident in my abilities. I know the way to the nearest doctor. It might be her only chance.”

“I’m sorry, Walter, but I don’t know if I can—”

“I don’t mean to sound impolite, Your Grace, but I am no longer asking for permission.”

He exhaled heavily. There was no need for further persuading. Walter was a very stubborn man, and Simon had to take all the help he could get.

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