stood at the crest of the grand staircase looking out over the entry. “Weston!” he bellowed, as loud as his lungs would allow.
She came up next to him. “Your Grace, you found her!”
“Yes, and it would have been quite nice to know she needed finding,” he answered with a scowl.
Mrs. Weston followed him to the guest suite, running to keep up with his long stride. Roxleigh laid Francine carefully on the bed and she looked up at him with gentle eyes as she reached out, grasping one of his arms before he could move away. She held her right hand straight and flat, the tips of the fingers to her lips, and then moved it forward, but he only stared at her in confusion and worry. Then she mouthed the words thank you, and made the motion again.
He nodded to her, taking slight comfort in the fact that her pain seemed to have eased, and turned to Mrs. Weston. “We will discuss this on the morrow. Tonight she needs rest, and you will watch her ,” he said, emphasizing his potential displeasure should his wishes be disregarded again.
“Yes, Your Grace, of course. I’ll not leave her side,” Mrs. Weston replied, her voice quivering, and she went to warm a kettle on the fire.
Roxleigh left Francine propped up on a few pillows, waiting for Mrs. Weston to come back to the bed. When she did, he left and Francine reached for Mrs. Weston’s arm. With her right hand she made a fist and motioned in a circle over her heart, mouthing the words I’m sorry . Mrs. Weston’s expression flushed with confusion as Francine repeated the gesture, then understanding broke across her face.
“No, dear! No! I am sorry. I should have been close by your side the entire time. I never should’ve left you, and I won’t make the mistake again,” she said.
Francine knew that Mrs. Weston had no idea what had happened tonight in the garden. All she knew was that Francine had disappeared and been returned in the arms of an angry duke. There was no way for her to know of the time shared in the maze, the amount of care he took with her. Mrs. Weston did not know that it had actually been the best night of her entire life, the first night she’d ever felt truly free.
She considered Roxleigh’s actions. No man had ever cared for her. She never had time to deal with them, and frankly they all seemed uninterested and a bit scary. But this one was different. He was concerned, not merely for her health but for her well being. He touched her without moving, her body aware of him regardless of proximity. She could feel him everywhere, and just the thought of him sent blood rushing to the surface of her skin.
She realized his anger was coming from concern and his agitation from some deeply seated emotion that she believed resonated from his gut—because right now, her gut was telling her the same thing.
Dr. Walcott could see dawn breaking through the small gap in the heavy drapes and he heaved a sigh then stood, rubbing his back with stiff fingers. He turned to the girl that had helped him throughout the night and patted her on the shoulder. “Go rest. Send someone else to watch over her. I will give them instructions before I go. There is nothing more that can be done now, but perhaps to pray,” he said quietly.
The girl nodded and took an armload of bloody rags with her as she disappeared. A few minutes later, another servant entered with Lilly’s father behind her.
“Mr. Steele,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “I cannot even fathom what it must take for you to look on your daughter like this. I must tell you that in all likelihood she’ll not survive. I’ll stay and see her through as far as I am able, but you should prepare her mother. I’ve never seen injuries as extensive as these, and I don’t know how she’s to survive… Or if she would even want to,” he whispered.
Francine watched as Mrs. Weston pulled the drapes open on the windows, letting in the fresh
She came up next to him. “Your Grace, you found her!”
“Yes, and it would have been quite nice to know she needed finding,” he answered with a scowl.
Mrs. Weston followed him to the guest suite, running to keep up with his long stride. Roxleigh laid Francine carefully on the bed and she looked up at him with gentle eyes as she reached out, grasping one of his arms before he could move away. She held her right hand straight and flat, the tips of the fingers to her lips, and then moved it forward, but he only stared at her in confusion and worry. Then she mouthed the words thank you, and made the motion again.
He nodded to her, taking slight comfort in the fact that her pain seemed to have eased, and turned to Mrs. Weston. “We will discuss this on the morrow. Tonight she needs rest, and you will watch her ,” he said, emphasizing his potential displeasure should his wishes be disregarded again.
“Yes, Your Grace, of course. I’ll not leave her side,” Mrs. Weston replied, her voice quivering, and she went to warm a kettle on the fire.
Roxleigh left Francine propped up on a few pillows, waiting for Mrs. Weston to come back to the bed. When she did, he left and Francine reached for Mrs. Weston’s arm. With her right hand she made a fist and motioned in a circle over her heart, mouthing the words I’m sorry . Mrs. Weston’s expression flushed with confusion as Francine repeated the gesture, then understanding broke across her face.
“No, dear! No! I am sorry. I should have been close by your side the entire time. I never should’ve left you, and I won’t make the mistake again,” she said.
Francine knew that Mrs. Weston had no idea what had happened tonight in the garden. All she knew was that Francine had disappeared and been returned in the arms of an angry duke. There was no way for her to know of the time shared in the maze, the amount of care he took with her. Mrs. Weston did not know that it had actually been the best night of her entire life, the first night she’d ever felt truly free.
She considered Roxleigh’s actions. No man had ever cared for her. She never had time to deal with them, and frankly they all seemed uninterested and a bit scary. But this one was different. He was concerned, not merely for her health but for her well being. He touched her without moving, her body aware of him regardless of proximity. She could feel him everywhere, and just the thought of him sent blood rushing to the surface of her skin.
She realized his anger was coming from concern and his agitation from some deeply seated emotion that she believed resonated from his gut—because right now, her gut was telling her the same thing.
Dr. Walcott could see dawn breaking through the small gap in the heavy drapes and he heaved a sigh then stood, rubbing his back with stiff fingers. He turned to the girl that had helped him throughout the night and patted her on the shoulder. “Go rest. Send someone else to watch over her. I will give them instructions before I go. There is nothing more that can be done now, but perhaps to pray,” he said quietly.
The girl nodded and took an armload of bloody rags with her as she disappeared. A few minutes later, another servant entered with Lilly’s father behind her.
“Mr. Steele,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “I cannot even fathom what it must take for you to look on your daughter like this. I must tell you that in all likelihood she’ll not survive. I’ll stay and see her through as far as I am able, but you should prepare her mother. I’ve never seen injuries as extensive as these, and I don’t know how she’s to survive… Or if she would even want to,” he whispered.
Francine watched as Mrs. Weston pulled the drapes open on the windows, letting in the fresh
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