The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)(97)

Awareness came in flashes. Being carried up the stairs. Softness surrounding her. And his voice—Robert’s voice—was there, even in the middle of restless dreams. It made a muffled murmur in her ear until the disquiet fell away and she drifted off.

When she awoke, it was afternoon. She was lying in bed. Not, she realized, their bed. This was her bed—the bed that had been set up in the duchess’s quarters. It was the first time that she’d been on this mattress, and she didn’t like it.

Someone had taken off her blue silk day gown and her corset, petticoats, and drawers, leaving her in her shift. She wasn’t surrounded by a crowd—but yes, she really had fainted again. In public. Other memories followed swiftly on the heels of that. The courtroom. Robert, sitting up front. Robert, looking directly at Minnie as he spilled all her secrets to everyone.

She wasn’t angry so much as curiously hollow. Minnie sighed and sat up.

She could remember falling. But the most curious thing—she couldn’t remember hitting the ground. Slowly, gingerly, she poked one toe out of bed. Her feet found the floor; she tested her weight on them, and they held.

And that was when her eyes fell on a figure in a chair across the room—a female figure.

“Lydia,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Lydia stood. “Your husband sent for me.” Her face seemed shadowed. “I heard what happened. He said you needed me, so I…I came.”

“But…”

“I’m so sorry,” Lydia said in a rush, moving to her side. “For the longest time, I could only think that you had lied to me, that I couldn’t trust you. That you didn’t trust me.” Lydia sat down next to her. “I said you didn’t tell me anything, but I knew. I knew you had these spells, that you hated crowds. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you collapse in front of everyone. If I had thought, I would have realized. I’ve been so hateful.”

Minnie looked at her friend. “Don’t say that.”

“How can I not? It wasn’t a lie when you found out I was pregnant and you told me that everything would be all right. It wasn’t a lie when I miscarried and you read to me for hours while I lay in bed fearing that I, too, would die. I wish you had told me, but…” Her voice grew quiet. “Nothing between us has ever been a lie. And I should have been here for you, as you were for me, long before now.”

Lydia gave her a fierce hug, one so tight that Minnie didn’t think she would ever let go. She didn’t want her to.

“I’m also sorry,” Lydia said in a more prosaic tone of voice, “because it means I never had a chance to say I told you so.”

They looked at each other and laughed. “You did. And you were right. It’s been—” Minnie frowned. “What’s that noise?”

Lydia turned around. “That? That’s just your husband talking to people in his chamber.”

His chamber? That was their bedchamber. They’d never used separate rooms thus far. Even during her husband’s dark moods these last days, they’d shared a bed. This room had gone entirely unused.

She could hear him talking—not loud enough to make out the words, but at just the volume where she might hear the cadences of his speech, the rhythm of clipped orders being delivered.

“Lydia,” she asked, “where is my husband?”

She would have sworn that he’d carried her home. He’d sent for Lydia. The last time she’d collapsed, he’d been there when she awoke, even knowing that the blow to her reputation would require him to offer marriage. Why was he not here?

Lydia shook her head. “In the other room.”

“He should be here. He was here.” She pulled on a dressing gown from her wardrobe. Then she tottered a few steps to the door that separated them. The handle turned under her weight and the door swung in.

There were three servants in his room—his valet and two footmen—and several trunks. Robert was sitting with his back to her, watching them bustle about. One footman had just emerged from his dressing room, arms loaded with a stack of colored silk waistcoats. He placed these in a trunk, and Minnie’s world came to a standstill.

“Robert, what on earth are you doing?” Minnie asked.

He froze, his back turned to her. The servants all looked away and started packing more swiftly, more silently. Only their sidelong glances showed their interest.

“You recuperated rather swiftly,” he said, his spine still to her. “I had thought I would be gone by the time you were up and about.”

“Gone? But where are you going?”

Finally, he rose and turned. But even though his body was generally pointed in her direction, still he didn’t look at her. “Away.”

She’d panicked when he’d spoken in front of all those people. They’d looked at her; her old terror had risen up. But as awful as fainting was, it was easy. Once you did it, you no longer had to deal with the situation at hand. There was no escape from this. This…this just hurt.

“Away? Where away? For how long?”

“I made you a promise,” he said at last. “And I broke it into more pieces than anyone would have thought possible. I can only imagine how furious you must be with me.” His jaw squared. “I won’t hold on to you. I won’t beg.” He gave her a wintry smile. “I’m making things easier for you.”