Three days in an old Haversham coach that wasn’t well sprung. Caroline would have been sick to her stomach even if she wasn’t with child. From the window, the familiar sights of London came into view. Almost there, thank God.

Callie lifted her head from Caroline’s shoulder to watch the approaching city, while Emma explained everything on the horizon in great detail.

From the opposite bench, Luke sighed. “You should rest before—” he began.

“It’s taken three days, Luke. I’m not waiting a moment more.” Who knew what had happened to Marc while they were on the road to London? Had he woken up? Was he on the mend? Or had the fever taken him? That last thought turned Caroline’s stomach once more.

“He would want you to take care of yourself,” her brother repeated the same words he’d said all along their journey, and Caroline was quite tired of hearing them.

“Then he can get out of his sickbed and make me do so,” she replied more tartly than she meant to, but she was tired and she did ache and she didn’t feel like herself at all.

“I’m trying to help you,” Luke said evenly. “I don’t know what we’ll find once we get there, sweetheart. Let me discover that before you race headfirst into his chambers and—”

“I know you’re trying to help me,” Caroline said. “And I love you for it. But is there anything in the world that would keep you from racing to Juliet’s side if this was her?”

He winced slightly but didn’t contradict her words. And how could he dispute something that was so obviously true?

“Of course there isn’t,” she continued. “If you want to be helpful, head to Lambeth Palace for me, Luke. I am in desperate need of a Special License.”

He agreed with a nod of his head. “Of course, sweetheart. I was already planning on it.”

* * *

It was stiflingly hot. Breathing was difficult. And Marc’s back ached as though someone had driven a hot fire iron right into him. He hadn’t felt so miserable since that sabre he’d taken to his side in Dublin.

He groaned. He couldn’t help it.

“Papa?”

Callie? Where was he? At Saddleworth? The air didn’t smell like Yorkshire. It smelled like London.

And then someone squeezed his hand. “Marc, please come back to me.”

Caroline. Her voice floated around him like the softest caress. He hadn’t left her, had he? Why would he leave her? He loved her more than life.

And then a pair of cool hands touched his brow. “Yes, yes,” came a familiar voice. “I believe the fever has broken, Lady Staveley.” Watts. What was the London doctor doing at Saddleworth? Or was he in London? Damn it all, why couldn’t Marc think straight? Why were all of his thoughts a jumbled mess?

Marc tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy and he ached so badly. He groaned again in defeat.

Then that pressure on his hand squeezed once more.

“You vowed you would never leave me, Marc,” Caroline said softly, her breath touching his cheek. “And you never lie to me. So I’m holding you to your word.”

He wasn’t leaving her, he just wanted…Well, he was so tired. “Need…to…sleep,” he managed to mutter before a heavy slumber took him again.

* * *

Caroline’s heart nearly stopped. Her gaze flew to Callie on the other side of Marc’s bed. “Did you hear that?”

And Callie nodded quickly. “He wants to…sleep?”

He’d been doing that very thing for days, but this was the first time he’d spoken aloud.

“I won’t give him any more laudanum,” Doctor Watts said, as he watched Marc’s chest rise and fall with breath. “See if that will help him come around.”

“But he’ll be in pain.” Caroline frowned at the doctor.

“He’s not a stranger to pain, my lady. And it may just wake him up.” Then he smiled at her kindly. “For what it’s worth, he might have the right idea. You could do with a bit of sleep yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Oh, she probably looked a fright, but Caroline wasn’t going anywhere. And no one in the world could make her. “Thank you for your concern, Doctor Watts, but I’m not ready to leave him.” And she never would be.

A veritable hoard had come though Marc’s chambers since Caroline and the girls had arrived the day before. Alex had left Livvie in Hampshire to spend a few hours by Marc’s side that morning. Lord Thurlstone had left his shipping offices to worry over his friend most of the afternoon. Clayworth, Simmons, Mr. Blackaby, even the Dowager Marchioness of Astwick stopped in to see how Marc was faring. And in between all of that, Luke was there, forcing her to nibble on bits of toast and threatening her with bodily harm if she didn’t drink enough tea to fill the Thames. He was wonderful, her brother, and she didn’t know what she’d do without him.

* * *

Marc opened his eyes into the darkness. A beeswax candle flickered in the corner of his chambers, making odd shapes dance across his walls. And…God in Heaven, he felt awful. There was a horrible ache pulsing in his back, it seemed to be coming from near his shoulder. His mind was so foggy. What the devil had happened to him?

And then a soft sigh from the chair beside his bed caught his ears, and Marc turned toward the sound. “Caroline?” he breathed out.

Her light brown head snapped to attention from where she had been resting it against the side of the chair and her eyes rounded in surprise. “Marc!” She leapt to her feet and hovered over him. “Are you really awake?”

“Unless we’re both dreaming.” He winced as his shoulder pulsed like the devil. “And I’ve never felt this awful when I’m asleep.” He shook his head trying to remember how he got there. “Did someone stab me?” Because that is what it felt like.

She swiped at her cheeks as though she’d been crying, but it was too dark to tell if she had for certain. “That awful St. George fellow.” She grasped his hand and squeezed him tightly. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”

St. George. Marc released a breath. Yes. He’d just arrived in London from Derbyshire with that codebook when St. George had come up behind him. His memory started filling in the pieces. “Blackaby was there,” he muttered to himself.

Caroline nodded quickly. “He fired his pistol and hit St. George, but Luke said the Home Office took the villain away.”

Who knew what the devil they were doing to him, then? Nothing the blackguard didn’t deserve, that Marc was certain of. He heaved a sigh and squeezed her hand back. “You asked me when the last time was someone came after me. Now you have an answer.”

Her lip trembled and Marc wished he could call those words back, but she needed to hear them. He loved her more than anything, but loving her wouldn’t be enough to protect her, not if someone truly meant to do her harm.

“You don’t have to throw your lot in with me, love. It’s not too late to walk away.” If she was having second thoughts, they could figure out something to do with the child. Callie was at Saddleworth, there was no reason he couldn’t care for this child in Yorkshire too.

But she shook her head. “Are you trying to get out of your promise, Marcus Gray?”

“Caroline, be reasonable.”

“I am perfectly reasonable,” she said. “I love you more than anything in the world, and I am not about to let you walk away from me.”

“I don’t think I can even walk at the moment.” He’d have to hobble and that would hardly make him appear as virile and masculine as he’d like.

“Perfect, then I’ll just keep you in that bed until you’re reasonable.”

“I would never complain about you keeping me in bed—” Marc started to laugh but stopped when it hurt too much “—but I’d like to feel more like myself before you do so.”

“Are you in so much pain?” she asked. “Doctor Watts said not to give you any more laudanum, but—”

“I don’t want to be unconscious again.” Then he patted the opposite side of the bed that was rather empty. “I know I’m not your lord and master yet, and I have no right to tell you anything, as you so eloquently informed me; but do climb into this bed with me. There’s more than enough room for both of us.”

She frowned slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“I can’t hurt worse than I do, love, but at least with you beside me, I can find a bit of peace.”

She navigated the foot of the bed and then climbed onto his four-poster. The movement on the mattress did actually hurt worse, but Marc wasn’t about to complain. Not when he was alive and he had her by his side. Caroline curled up next to him and rested her head on his good shoulder.

“That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Reminds me I’m still alive,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “How are you feeling, love? Is the baby—”

“We’re fine. We’re both fine,” she told him. “Callie came with us to London. She wanted to see you.”

A staggered breath escaped Marc. “I don’t suppose I can get away with hiding her anymore, can I?”

“I hardly think it’s fair to her.”

Keeping her alive had always taken precedent over fairness. “When you said you wouldn’t live like her, hidden away from the world…any chance you’ve changed your mind on that? Saddleworth is a nice place to be hidden away.”

“Saddleworth is lovely,” she agreed. “And we shall be very happy there in the summer and winter months, I’m sure.”

“But you’re still going to insist on London?”

She sighed into the darkness. “Rachel will come out next Season, Marc. And Callie and Emma aren’t that far behind her. For them to navigate Society at some point, they have to live in it. We can’t keep them locked away like princesses in some fairy-tale tower.”

“They’re ten years old,” he said. “Fairy-tale towers are the perfect places for girls that age. And as for Rachel, it’s not too late to send her to that convent I know.”

Caroline laughed slightly against his chest. “Depending on how next Season goes, let’s keep that option open.”