“What about her?” His burning throat closed, he could not breathe.She was nowhere near the fire. I ordered her to stay in the castle.Too late, he remembered how seldom Eugenia did as she was told. He shut his eyes, groaning. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“She pulled you from the fire,” Dentonshire said. “She was seen running inside after you did. Somehow, she dragged you out by bursting through the back door.”
He snapped his eyes open. “Tell me she will be all right,” he said to Mr. Leary. “Please tell me she will not die.”
Mr. Leary shunted his eyes away. “She breathed in too much smoke, Your Grace. Her burns are not terribly bad nor life-threatening. I fear her lungs may not heal.”
Savage pain ripped through Maximilian’s heart. Eugenia – dying. He could not bear it. He would have sacrificed the entire stable of horses rather than see one hair on her head harmed. But she, in her infinite courage and love for him, gave up her life for him.The greatest love in all of heaven and earth.“She saved my life. She is dying because of me.”
“An amazing feat, Bromenville,” Dentonshire commented. “That tiny girl dragging you from the burning building, If I had not seen it for myself, I would scarce believe it.”
Nigel stepped close to his bed. “Miss Betham is tough, Your Grace, tougher than most men. Do not give up on her. She can pull through this, but she needs you. Do not despair.”
Maximilian nodded. “Where is she?”
“In a guest room just down the corridor,” Mr. Leary replied.
“I want to see her.” Maximilian struggled to rise, ignoring the pain in his head and his burned skin. He found he had been stripped of his supper attire and wore only his small clothes. “Fetch me a shirt, trousers.”
“Your Grace,” Mr. Leary protested. “I do not think you should leave your bed.”
“I am and I will.”
Nigel fetched clothes and helped him into them; he gazed down at his nearly naked body. Mr. Leary had treated and bandaged burns on his legs, arms, and torso, but they were as nothing compared to the grief that still speared his heart.
Eugenia, if you die, I will soon follow you.
Limping, his breathing ragged, his head pounding from the blow it received, Maximilian was making his slow way out of his rooms.
Accompanied by Nigel, Maximilian opened the door to the room his steward indicated. Lady Helena sat beside the bed, her face swollen from crying. Countess Whitington sat on the other side, her eyes dry, but her expression torn with grief. Eugenia lay on the bed, covered to her shoulders. The skin of her face was bright red, and her lustrous hair had been singed, but if he had not heard from Mr. Leary to the contrary, he would have thought her simply asleep.
“Your Grace.”
The two Whitington women rose to curtsey, but he waved them back to their chairs. Limping to the bed, he gazed down at the unconscious girl. “How is she?” he asked.
“Not good,” Countess Whitington answered. “Mr. Leary has done what he could. She is in God’s hands now.”
Eugenia breathed raggedly, shallowly, and coughed even as he stood over her. Maximilian clenched his fists. “She will live. She has to.”
“Your Grace.”
Nigel brought a chair for him. He was grateful to sit near Eugenia’s head. “She will live,” he repeated, unable to look away.
“I hope so,” Lady Helena said, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “She is like my sister.”
She turned her face toward Maximilian. “I think I should tell you something, Your Grace,” she said, her voice hoarse from weeping.
“What?”
“She told me this not long ago.” Lady Helena said, the words caught in her throat. “She said she hoped this murderer would succeed in killing her.”
“What?”Maximilian burned with fury. He glanced at her with reproving eyes. Why on earth would she want that?”
“So – so she would not have to tell you to marry another,” Lady Helena said, trembling. “I do not think she wanted to live to see you marry someone else.”
He forced himself to draw a deep breath, which brought on a fit of coughing, and he quelled his anger. “She is going to survive, Lady Helena,” he said when he could speak. “She will not see me marry another.”
He caught the Countess’s eyes, warm with approval, and her quick nod. “Our Eugenia is a good girl,” was all she said.
