And then she let go.
Jacks met his eyes, shrugging as though the foibles of woman fazed him not. For his part, Dominic just wanted to find Louise. The more time that passed, the more likely she’d caught sick.
She could be at home, of course. Just because she was missing didn’t mean she’d been outside. But the twisting pain in his gut told him otherwise. She was out here, somewhere, alone.
Henrietta had left the center circle. She explored the circumference of the folly, going from pillar to pillar, her skirts wet and dragging.
Dominic gave the lamp to Jacks. “Stay here in the middle. If Louise is out there, she’ll see your light.” He strode to the stairs and, shielding his eyes, looked out over the landscape for anything that could be construed as human. Nothing but rocks and trees and sloping land in the grayish dirge.
A shout filtered through the noise of the storm. Pivoting, Dominic saw the light swinging crazily back and forth.
He strode back into the folly and there was Louise, lying in Henrietta’s lap. They were shivering and when Henrietta looked up, he couldn’t tell whether her eyes were wet with rain or tears. Louise’s hair was plastered to her head, and violent spasms wracked her body.
He kneeled, taking her from Henrietta. His niece snuggled into him, not talking, which was worrisome in and of itself.
“Her ankle is twisted.”
Dominic followed Henrietta’s pointing finger to Louise’s right foot, which was without a shoe and garish in the flickering, black-blue light. As round as an orange, and puffy. He pulled Louise closer to his chest, beckoning with his chin for the others to follow.
Henrietta took the lamp to lead the way, and Jacks attempted to hold his coat over Louise as they stumbled back to the carriage. Jacks went in first, then Dominic handed Louise up to him. In the carriage light, her lips were tinged blue and her eyes closed. He had never seen such pale eyelids, devoid of coloration.
He helped Henrietta in, then followed. Jacks laid Louise on his lap, and every so often, her body shook with tremors. Tension rode back to the house with them, and Louise said nothing. Dominic could not recall ever feeling so helpless in his life, except in the aftermath of his own seizures. The full scope of humanity’s fragile hold on life glared at him accusingly.
Louise might have died. Could still die.
He would do anything to keep her safe. Including paying the blackmail demands so that Barbara did not find out about his epilepsy. Now that he had a governess, he simply needed to find a cure.
Jacks and the maid were silent spectators in the carriage, their eyes huge with worry. But Henrietta reached over and smoothed hair from Louise’s forehead. She took the girl’s hand and rubbed it between hers.
“Keep her warm, St. Raven.”
“I’m trying.” His voice cracked. “Will she die?”
Henrietta looked up at him then, her pupils giant black orbs. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Chapter Seven
“I am not going to let you die.”
“It is a possibility?” Louise’s voice rusted out the question, dry and cracked.
Henrietta dampened a cloth, wrung it, then wiped it gently over her clammy forehead. “Perhaps it would be, if you did not have such a skilled nurse at your side.”
The little girl’s lids closed, blue-veined and papery thin, but a tremulous smile shook her lips. After a scary night, her fever had finally broken this morning.
“She’s awake.” St. Raven appeared in the doorway.
“Yes, you leave for ten minutes, and she opens her eyes.” Henrietta placed the cloth back in the washbowl, then wiped her hands on a towel. “I think she may have gone back to sleep. Did you finish your work?”
St. Raven lifted one shoulder casually, as if he couldn’t be bothered to notice if he’d finished or not. “An earl does not work, Miss Gordon.”
She nodded, though in truth she didn’t understand. Work carried various connotations. Everyone worked in one way or another.
“Have you come to sit with her again?”
“Yes, and to inquire if you have need of anything.”
The fever that had invaded Louise had been alarming, but she already showed signs of improvement. A good thing, as Henrietta had been up with her for much of the night. So had St. Raven. Purple crescents shadowed the skin beneath his eyes.
“She may wake and ask for water. I have been bathing her forehead, but she is no longer feverish.” Henrietta glanced down. Louise looked so very frail beneath the covers. Helpless and tiny, a wisp of a human on the cusp of adulthood. Heart twisting, Henrietta stood. “She will be well within days. Then she will need to be taken to task for her antics.”
His eyebrows rose. “Are you on that again?”
“Do you enjoy seeing this?” She swept her hand in an arc. “Do you wish to repeat this situation every few months? If not, then take her in hand, my lord. Teach her how to handle disappointments.”
“As you were taught?” he asked quietly.
Who was this serious man? She almost hoped he’d return to the bantering, superficial creature of days ago. “No,” she returned. “As you were.”
“Touché.” He made way as she slid past him. “You will put this entire house in order?”
She stopped at the doorway, hearing the amusement in his voice and strangely glad for it. “Will you be paying me? Because the breakfast was cold. The oatmeal gelatinous. And there is dust along the windowsills. Someone needs to take charge here.”
“I have a housekeeper.”
“Mrs. Braxton, yes. A busy woman.”
He nodded, but she could tell that she had sobered his levity. That had not been her intention. “Louise shall awaken again and I’ve no doubt she will be happy to see you. In the meantime, I will rest before preparing the schoolroom, though she’s a bit old for it. I would recommend that she be put in a private school once I’ve left. Not a finishing school. Those are becoming obsolete. There are places you can
