The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,151

eyes. ‘It’s me, Seb. Your friend, remember?’

Millie lifted her gaze to meet his. His grey eyes were so full of kindness and understanding, she felt herself begin to crumble.

‘Please don’t be nice to me, Seb. I don’t think I can bear it,’ she said, her chin quivering.

‘Oh, Millie.’ He opened his arms and she fell into them.

He held her for a long time as she sobbed against his chest, her tears soaking the rough tweed of his jacket. It was such a relief to hold someone, to be close to them. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart calmed her. She no longer felt as if she was alone, stuck in the middle of a terrifying nightmare with no escape.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, her face still buried against him. ‘This is not very ladylike behaviour. I don’t know what my grandmother would say.’

‘I couldn’t care less what your grandmother thinks.’ He guided her gently to the couch and sat down beside her.

‘Even so, you should let me arrange something for you to eat.’

‘Perhaps later.’ He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully dried her tears. ‘Oh, Millie, I’ve been so worried about you. All the way down here, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, wondering how you were . . .’

‘It was very kind of you to come. I’m sorry if I ruined your shooting.’

‘Do you really think I could have stamped around the highlands, pretending to shoot deer, knowing what you were going through?’ He laughed harshly. ‘I’m sure those poor stags will be most grateful there’s one less gun to worry about. Besides, Georgina seemed to be shooting enough for everyone. She has a rather bloodthirsty nature, it turns out.’

Millie smiled in spite of herself. She could just imagine the extremely determined Miss Farsley tracking down her quarry through the heather.

‘She always did enjoy the hunt.’

Seb rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t I know it! I understand exactly how those wretched deer feel.’ He touched Millie’s chin with one finger, turning her face towards his. ‘That’s better. I like to see you smile.’

‘I must look a complete fright.’ Millie touched her stringy curls.

‘You look adorable, as always.’ Seb’s face was close to her, only inches away. Then he seemed to remember himself, and stood up. ‘Do you think it would be possible for me to see your father? Is he allowed visitors other than family?’

‘I’m sure that would be all right. Anyway, you are Daddy’s godson, which makes you practically family.’

Seb nodded. ‘I must say, your father has always been very good to me. Far more of a parent than my own dear papa anyway.’ He smiled wryly.

Millie thought about the dissolute duke, bed hopping his way through most of high society, and once again it struck her how lucky she was in her own father. But for how long? She swallowed hard, determined not to allow herself to cry again. ‘Let me arrange something for you to eat, and then we’ll go back to the hospital,’ she said.

Her grandmother expressed no surprise when Millie walked into her father’s room with Seb in tow.

Millie went straight to her father’s bedside. ‘How is he?’

‘Still no change, I’m afraid.’ The Dowager Countess squeezed her son’s hand. ‘The nurses come in and out, but there’s nothing anyone can do for him. I know we haven’t lost him,’ she said with feeling. ‘He’s in there somewhere. If only there was some way we could rouse him.’

‘That’s why we have to talk to him,’ Millie said firmly. ‘If he hears our voices, he can find his way to us.’

She saw the look that passed between Seb and her grandmother. ‘It’s true,’ she insisted. ‘He will come back to us, I know he will.’

‘Of course he will,’ the Dowager Countess said soothingly. ‘In the meantime, we must keep our vigil and pray.’ She looked up at Seb. ‘But perhaps now you’re here, Sebastian, you can persuade my granddaughter to rest occasionally?’

‘I’ll do my best, Lady Rettingham.’

‘Good. In that case I will take my leave of you both. You will be staying with us I hope, Sebastian?’

‘I would very much like that.’

Millie looked from one to the other, her eyes narrowing. Unexpected visitors always put her grandmother out of sorts, so why was she so calm about Seb’s arrival? Unless . . .

‘Did Granny send for you?’ she demanded, as soon as they were alone.

‘Yes and no,’ he admitted.

‘What does that mean?’

‘She sent word informing me of your father’s illness. I am his godson, after