“You destroy everything you touch.”
“You are unworthy. You are wretched, and you are doomed.”
“I wish you had never been born, so the world would not have to contend with such a cursed being as you.”
He had thought he had done enough. He had thought that only childbirth was a danger to Teresa, but he had been wrong. The fates, and his past, did not want him to be happy, and they would take his joy and his love away if he did not heed them. They would take her if he did not remove himself from her side at once, if he did not cease loving her immediately.
His mind racing with a thousand dreadful thoughts and possibilities, he managed to settle Teresa into the saddle. Pulling himself up behind her, he seized the reins and, with a squeeze of his thighs, urged Merryweather toward home. Not at the gallop he might have liked, with peril still weighing on him, but fast enough.
“I am perfectly well, my darling,” Teresa tried to insist, but the wind and Cyrus’ fear whipped the sound away.
He had been delivered an omen; he would not ignore it now, not when there was still time to avert what it heralded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
By the time Cyrus arrived back at the castle with Teresa, it was not clear who required a physician more.
He shook as he lifted Teresa down from the horse and, against her protests, wielded her into the castle. Yet, the strength in his arms and of his determination did not fail him, carrying her with ease to the nearest room—an old drawing room—where he set her down upon a timeworn chaise.
“Belinda!” he barked, in a manner that was not at all like himself. “Where are you all?”
He marched out into the hallway, shouting again.
The housekeeper appeared a few moments later, hurrying down the hall toward him, her chatelaine rattling and clinking. There was concern in her eyes as she slowed to a standstill, observing her master as if she did not recognize him.
“Have someone fetch the physician,” Cyrus commanded, pausing. “No, forget that. Tend to my wife.Ishall fetch the physician myself.”
He made to walk past her, but the housekeeper’s hand shot out, grasping him boldly by the elbow.
“You look pale, Your Grace,” she said gently. “I don’t know that it would be wise for you to go riding to the village. I’ll send one of the boys instead; they’re swift enough.”
He glared down at her, too overwrought to remind himself that this was not her fault, or anyone’s fault except his. “Do not make me repeat my order.”
“Her Grace is… unwell?” Belinda asked, her throat bobbing as she let go of his elbow.
“She fell. She has a cut to her brow and a wounded ankle, and who knows what else,” he shot back, striding off before she could frustrate him with further questions.
He needed to get out of the castle. He needed to get away from his wife. He needed to put as much distance between them as possible, or his mind would never clear, and now, more than ever, he needed a clear head so he would know how to proceed.
An hour and several miles of hard riding later, with the physician in tow, Cyrus felt no calmer than he had when he had left Darnley Castle.
“Everything is in hand, Your Grace. I am sure there is nothing to worry about,” the doctor said, far too cheerfully, as he was shown into the old drawing room.
For all I know, she is dead already. For all I know, this may yet kill her.
Not wanting to peek in, in case his fears were confirmed, Cyrus relegated himself to the hallway outside. There, he threatened to wear a hole in the flagstones as he marched back and forth, back and forth, his brain far louder than the thud of his footsteps.
“Your Grace?” Belinda appeared, somewhat nervously, from the door that led to the servant’s corridor.
Cyrus halted. “What?”
“I… thought you would like to know that she really does seem to be all right,” the housekeeper said with an encouraging smile. “She was talking cheerily enough to me, though… she is worried about you. I think you gave her quite the fright.”
His eyes narrowed. “Igaveherquite the fright?”
“What I mean is,” the housekeeper tried again, “that she hasn’t seen you like that before. Nor have I, in truth. I think she mightlike some reassurance thatyouare all right, after the physician has given his verdict.”
But I am not all right. I am not all right at all.
