Page 58 of A Winter with the Rakish Duke

Chapter 28

Eloise awoke with a groan as the blinding sunlight spilled over her eyelids. Her body ached all over, yet she felt oddly relaxed and warm as a wool garment and blanket wrapped her body tightly, keeping her secure. Finally opening her eyes, she stared around, realizing she was in a room she recognized far too well; Simon’s chambers.

Running a finger against her temples, she took a sudden notice of the soft bandage pressed around her skull. Memories of what occurred flooded back. Mister Walter. The snowstorm. The blistering cold. The enormous branch. Was he all right? Did he manage to reach the Castle? …Was Simon all right?

She tore her hands from the blanket, struggling to sit up until she was stopped.

“Easy, Milady.” It was Fenella’s voice, softer than usual.

“Don’t exhaust yourself, please. You’re still weak—we’ll call for the doctor,” another voice, Antonia, said.

Truly, she felt weak by all accords. Her lips felt unbelievably dry, and she licked moisture to them in hopes of soothing them. But nothing could stop the terrible growling of her stomach—it felt as if it had been days since her last meal, and the thought of food ravished her mind. Oh, she would eat anything—from tree sap to the furniture in front of her.

“How long have I been…”

“Two days.” Antonia placed a cup of water in Eloise’s hands. She drank rushingly, drops dripping down her chin. “I don’t mean to alert you, but it was a worrisome two days for everyone in the Castle, especially His Grace. The doctor doubted your chances of survival, and for a while, I did myself. You hit your head hard; the doctor said head trauma.”

“Your body turned stone cold, Milady,” Fenella added.

“Mister Walter…?” Eloise asked, confused by her newly acquired knowledge of the event.

“Oh, he’s completely all right,” Antonia continued, “He keeps insisting that without your aid, he wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Eloise sank back into the bed, relief finding her. Good. She couldn’t live with the thought of the man dying, especially when she was able to do something about it. But hearing about her own condition worried her. Was she truly that bad? Would she die? And Miss Antonia mentioned Simon. She couldn’t see him inside the room, but while she was passed out, she had vague memories of him holding her close and securely against his chest. He must have been awfully worried. But where was he?

“Miss Antonia, where is Simon?” She blushed at the realization that she used his Christian name accidentally. Highly inappropriate and suspicious. It implied they were close, closer than anyone would assume, yet she didn’t have the breath to correct it.

“I’m unsure, My Lady,” Antonia said. “Fenella?”

“He, uh, I think he’s in his study. I haven’t seen him since last night…”

Eloise pondered for a moment. Maybe he went to rest. It would make sense after all; he couldn’t be by her side all the time and wait for her to wake; it could take weeks for all he knew. And he was a busy man. But something ached underneath her breastbone, and she sighed in wonder.

“Does he know of the accident?” asked Eloise.

Antonia nodded, her brown bonnet moving slightly out of place as she adjusted it. “Oh, indeed. He is the one who brought you inside, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“We couldn’t go into the storm,” Fenella added, “it was dangerous, we could’ve died…and His Grace ran outside with little regard to his safety to find you.”

Eloise blushed. He did what now? She hugged her body with her arms, wondering if he was all right himself. He was a fool for endangering himself this way, jumping into the snow like an idiot and attempting to rescue her when he could have been injured in the process. She couldn’t ignore or deny the warm feeling in her core at the thought, however, and she smiled instinctively.

“Is he injured?” she suddenly asked, her expression growing confused again.

“Nothing but a few scrapes. The doctor saw to it,” said Antonia. “My Lady, if you’ll excuse me.”

The old maid curtseyed and swiftly stepped outside the room, the door scraping shut against some worn-down hinges behind her. Eloise tilted her head at the sight of it. Fenella sat next to her, the bed creaking and dipping slightly.

“Oh, Milady, I’m so glad you’re unharmed!” Fenella said. “Can I be improper?”

Eloise giggled. “Of course.”

Fenella’s face beamed, her fair skin reddening. “What His Grace did for you is one of the most romantic things I’ve heard of. He jumped into the storm to save you, and then—” she paused, inching closer to Eloise, “he spent two days taking care of you.”

“He…what?” Eloise asked. “He was taking care of me?”

Fenella nodded. “Yes. Miss Antonia even called him a nightmare—” she whispered, “don’t tell her I said that. He wouldn’t stop pestering all of us to make sure you were safe and well. I don’t think he ate, slept, or drank anything these past two days. It was sad to see him that way, but it was admirable. I’ve never seen someone do something like this before for anybody. He must care a lot about you.”

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