Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(42)

Foxhall snapped his bag closed and took one long look at Alex. “He was lucky. A few inches deeper and he’d be a dead man.”

Jacob ignored the remark. He swallowed. If Alex died it would be his fault. He should have been covering Alex’s back and stopped Patrick before he could strike. He’d let Alex down. He swore on his mother’s grave that Alex would live.

“It’s going to be a long night. Have someone relieve me at dawn.”

“Sorry, Doc, you’ve one more patient to check on.” Jacob called for Ned through the open cabin door. “Can you watch His Grace while Foxhall checks on Lady Hestia’s ankle? He’ll likely sleep for the next hour, but if he wakes up, make sure he keeps still. We need those stitches to heal as soon as possible.”

If Murad got word of Alex’s injury, the Angelica would become a target.

—

Hestia lay on her bunk, furious with her throbbing ankle. She’d tried to walk on it several times in the last hour in the hope of hobbling to Alex’s cabin, but her ankle would not take her weight. She was desperate to have news of Alex. It was so unfair; she still had no idea how badly hurt he was. She knew it was serious; there was so much blood and he was unconscious when they carried him on board. Her anguish built with each wring of her hands, the throbbing in her ankle forgotten in her worry.

But she knew all she had to do to ascertain Alex’s condition was open the door and call for Jacob. Hestia didn’t want to disturb David and take him away from Alex. She was too scared; what if the news was bad?

She closed her eyes and moaned. What if he died? All of this would be her fault because she had come to him with her problems. A small tear escaped her closed eyes. Damn Fredrick.

Alex had risked his life to save her—again. She would never forget that.

Images of Alex flashed beneath her closed eyes. Alex laughing at something she’d said, his bravery when facing danger, his never-ending patience when teaching her chess on their long voyage back to England all those years ago, and his ability to take her breath away with one heartrending smile.

Hestia choked back a sob. While he might not ever be hers, she hated thinking of a world without him in it. She wished she’d never asked him to undertake this voyage. Her selfishness was going to cost Alex his life. She felt sick.

A knock on her cabin door made Hestia sit up so fast she swayed, black spots swimming before her eyes. Quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks, Hestia quietly said, “Come in,” dreading what she might be about to hear.

David’s stoic face gave nothing away. “I’ve come to assess your injuries.”

She could not tell from his face the status of Alex. On a whisper she asked, “How is Alex…His Grace?”

“I won’t lie; he has indeed been gravely injured. I have managed to stop the bleeding and stitch the wound together. He’s resting comfortably. I administered laudanum and he should sleep for the next few hours.”

“But will he live?” Her voice caught on the word live, and her expression clearly said, Don’t lie to me.

His eyes filled with pain. “It would not hurt to pray.”

Only her pride stopped her from crumpling in a heap on the bed.

—

Hestia’s nightly nursing duties were due to start in a few minutes. Her stomach was quivery and she felt sick—sick with guilt and worry. What state would she find Alex in and how could she face him? Because of Fredrick he was in his cabin hurt, perhaps mortally wounded. If he died…now she understood Alex’s drive for revenge, for she would surely make Fredrick pay if Alex did not live.

She’d go crazy with worry if she didn’t pull herself together. Alex needed her.

She’d been so relieved when David agreed to let her nurse Alex. He had a crew to take care of too, and he needed sleep. She thought he might say it wasn’t proper being with Alex without a chaperon, but understandably he had no real choice. He knew she would follow his instructions to the letter. Keep the wound clean and change the bandages regularly. She would take the night shift because she had no jobs that needed to be done during the day, so she could sleep then.

Jacob, as captain, had enough to worry about and needed Ned to help him while Alex was indisposed.

There was also Connor in the brig to keep an eye on. Jacob was worried that there might be others among the crew on Fredrick’s payroll.

Alex was also less likely to need personal help during the night. All she was instructed to do was to watch over him as he slept, ensure he drank a small amount of water, and make him keep still. She would be diligent, watching for signs of infection such as fever, and change his bandages every three hours. She chewed her bottom lip; how hard could that be?

At her appointed time, Hestia quietly hobbled into Alex’s dimly lit cabin. Her hands were shaking as she closed the door behind her. She wasn’t sure how she’d react at seeing him so badly injured. She gave herself a shake. This is not about you, young lady. This is about aiding the man you love.

Hestia’s scolding did the trick, and having given herself a stiff dose of Dutch courage, she lifted her eyes to inspect the cabin. She took in Foxhall sitting at one end of the cabin sorting through his medicine case. But what sent her nerves spinning out of control was the sight that greeted her when her gaze finally moved toward the bed. She expected to be distraught at seeing Alex so hurt, and she was, but also there was something primal in seeing him like this and heat rushed through her veins.