A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(62)

“Leorah, accompany me to the Wilherns’ so that we might call on Miss Wilhern and Miss Grey.”

Leorah eyed him suspiciously. “And which of the two are you so interested in? And if you say Phoebe Wilhern, I will not believe you.”

“Well, as you have settled the matter in your own mind, I wonder you should ask me. Come. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I shall not go with you at all if you take that imperial attitude with me, brother.” Leorah crossed her arms and set her chin in that stubborn way of hers.

Best to placate her. He wanted to see Miss Grey.

“Leorah, pray, be a dear,” he said, emphasizing dear, “and join me in paying a visit to our mutual friends, Miss Wilhern and Miss Grey.”

“That is a bit better, although I detected insincerity in your voice.”

“You must surely be mistaken.”

Leorah readied herself, and they were soon off. In five minutes, they were being invited into the house by a young, rustic-looking servant.

“We would like to call on Miss Wilhern and Miss Grey, if they are at home.”

The young woman looked relieved to see them. “The Wilherns went to Bath. Miss Grey is home, but she is very sick.”

“Sick?”

The urge to bolt upstairs seized Nicholas, and it was with difficulty that he controlled himself.

“Is she very unwell?”

“I’m sorry to say she is, sir. Her fever is very hot, and she was talking out of her head this morning.”

“May we see her?”

The servant girl led them up the stairs.

“Why was the doctor not called? Who is in charge here?” Nicholas didn’t care that he sounded strident.

“I am the only one here. Mrs. Wilhern gave the other servants the week for a holiday.”

When they were almost to the second floor, Nicholas nearly tread on his sister’s heels. She turned to face him.

“Nicholas, you can’t go in.”

“Why not? Oh, go on, then.” He shooed her up the stairs. “Quickly, and tell me how she fares so I can go for Dr. Alcott.”

Leorah followed the maid inside the room.

Nicholas paced outside the door. In a few moments, Leorah stuck her head out. Her eyes were wide as they latched onto him.

“Run and fetch the doctor. Julia is terribly ill. Make him hurry.” Then she shut the door in his face.

He raced down the stairs two at a time. He hurried home, just one street over, running most of the way and praying, Don’t let her die.

He fetched his horse and rode to Dr. Alcott’s. When the doctor’s housekeeper announced that he was in and would see him momentarily, Nicholas most fervently thanked God that he wasn’t out on a call.

The doctor was older, with deep crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. “Mr. Nicholas,” Dr. Alcott greeted him. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to come right away. A young lady, Miss Julia Grey, is very ill.”

Nicholas waited for him to collect his bag and get in his curricle. He chafed silently at the slowness of Dr. Alcott’s horses.

At the Wilhern house, Nicholas opened the door without even knocking and led Dr. Alcott up the stairs.

Leorah opened the door as they reached the top, ushered the doctor inside, and then closed the door again, shutting Nicholas out.

Waiting outside her door, he heard coughing. He gasped at the terrible violence of it. It was as if she were choking, and she sounded very weak.

He waited, pacing back and forth. The Wilherns had left her here, without even a proper servant to care for her. Had they realized she was spying on him? Were they trying to kill her? Perhaps Wilhern had poisoned her.

He considered knocking or calling to Leorah to come and tell him something. Could Leorah be assisting the doctor? He had no doubt his sister could do anything she was called on to do, but . . . why didn’t she come out and tell him what was happening?

“Leorah,” he called from just outside the door. “Is there anything I can do?”

A few moments later, he heard footsteps approaching on the other side, and then the door opened to Dr. Alcott, with Leorah just behind him. They came out into the hall.

The doctor’s gaze was direct. “She has pleurisy and an infection of the lungs. It is very serious, and she needs expert care—hot liquids and as much of the right foods as you can get her to take. You’ll need to get more than one servant, someone who’s experienced with nursing, to help watch her night and day.”

Nicholas and Leorah looked at each other. “Cora,” they said at the same time.

“We shall take her home. Our old nursemaid, Cora, will care for her.” Nicholas was already taking a step toward the stairs to go get the carriage.

“No, she mustn’t be moved,” the doctor said firmly. “She is too weak.”

“Then I will fetch Cora. She and Polly can come and stay and care for her here.”

“That is a good plan.” The doctor and Cora had often consulted each other when anyone in Nicholas’s family had been sick.

“You said she has pleurisy and a lung infection? How soon will she recover?”

“With proper care, she may recover, but it could take quite some time.”

May recover? “How long?”

“She will be in bed at least three weeks, I would estimate, if she recovers. And once she does, she could have a reoccurrence. Sometimes the lungs are weakened to the extent that they continue to be inflamed every time there is a change in the weather. If so, it could greatly shorten her life.”