The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,115

was to be expected, the physician had said. If he survived the deliriousness and became coherent again, his chance of dying diminished.

Elizabeth stayed by him through it all, until he began flailing and yelling. She had to leave the room a moment then to calm herself, though she concealed her weakness by running to fetch Lord Antony. Con couldn’t be left to toss in his bed, not when he might reopen his wound. He needed one of his brothers to hold him down, and Lord Antony had offered his help, should it become necessary.

Lady Montborne remained with him. Her eyes were kind and worried, not judging, when Elizabeth stepped out. With Lord Antony’s calming presence behind her, she returned to the room even more determined to be strong for Con. But she fell to her knees and folded her arms over his mattress when he began to sob, “Oliver. Oliver. Come back. I can’t have failed…”

His wretched self-blame broke her heart. He’d done all he could. Surely he must know she didn’t fault him for her father’s treachery, or for her own failing.

Con wrapped his hands in the bedsheet and slammed his fists against the mattress. He cursed Captain Finn. A stream of profanity even Mrs. Finn would be proud of. Elizabeth lifted her head from her forearms. She couldn’t give in to Nicholas, either. How had she not seen it earlier? She’d all but abandoned Oliver just because Nicholas had taken him. Why hadn’t she tried to talk to her former lover? She’d given in without a thought to fighting him toe to toe, just as she’d done when he’d ordered her out of her apartment rooms so many weeks ago.

He hadn’t cowed her. The moment Con was well again, she’d haunt Nicholas’s front steps until he let her in. Or if he didn’t, she’d come back again the next day, and the next, until he knew that no matter what he tried, what underhandedness he perpetrated, she would never give up on Oliver.

Oliver would know she’d tried, even if she never succeeded.

Night turned to day. His brothers entered and left, all but Darius. She and Lady Montborne attempted to feed him broth and water, but most of it ended up on the bedsheet and they had to change his bedding again.

He slept, and he cried out. She did everything she could to comfort him.

Another agonizing day passed before she was awakened by Lady Montborne shaking her shoulder. “The fever has broken, Elizabeth! The dreams are gone.”

Elizabeth blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up. Con’s face looked pale and peaceful beneath the deep purple bruises marring his skin. She reached out and touched his forehead, just under the bandage. Cool. Her heart soared. She felt the first relief she’d had since the day the constables had come to seize her son. “He’ll live?”

Lady Montborne nodded vigorously. Her lips pressed together. Then she turned and dashed from the room.

She reappeared moments later with Lord Bart trailing behind her. He wasn’t smiling, but relief softened his eyes. “Mother is asking if you’re still having the wedding here. It would have been in a few hours.”

Elizabeth came to her feet. She hadn’t given the ceremony a second thought. Just known with all of her heart that she must marry Constantine, sometime. When he was well again. “Didn’t you call it off?”

He shook his head. “That would have been admitting defeat.”

A smile crept across her lips. In an earlier age, this man would have been a warrior. “Then I shall have to freshen up a bit. How long before they arrive?”

Before Lord Bart could respond, her hand was seized. She startled and looked at Con. He had her hand in a loose grip but the set of his jaw was determined. “Don’t leave me.”

She laughed nervously. “I can’t get married looking like this.”

He didn’t let her hand go. His cheek fell against the pillow, however, as if the effort to hold his head up were too much for him. “Don’t leave.”

Lady Montborne and Lord Bart conversed a moment, then he left and she came to Constantine’s side. She bent and fell against him, hugging his prone form as best as his position would allow. “My son, oh, my son! You can’t know my relief.”

He released Elizabeth’s hand and attempted to pat his mother’s arm. “There, there. I’ll do my best to stay clear of knives in the future.”

She gave him another awkward squeeze, then straightened to look at him. Love suffused