Page 102 of Claim Me

Alexander

The only thing to distract me was a stack of bloody magazines a few weeks old, most of which purported to have the secret details of my own life. Hospitals were my own personal hell. I paced the room, earning a reproachful look from my brother, who apparently found reading about his own life quite amusing. David had fallen asleep in the chair next to him. Henry was wearing a similar path across the room as my own.

Tuxedo jackets, vests, and ties were strewn about—all of us eventually divesting ourselves of everything but our shirts and pants. They sat in stark contrast to the blank white walls and sickly yellow chairs. I hated everything about this place, especially its memories.

I’d been brought here on my wedding day. I’d come here after the car accident. My mother had died behind these walls. The only good thing that had ever happened here was Elizabeth’s birth, but one life hardly seemed to balance all the death.

The door burst open, but it was only Georgia. She looked around the room. “Where’s Clara?”

“Norris took her home with Sarah,” I told her. It was best for them both to be away from this. My grandmother had been nothing but cruel to Clara, so I couldn’t ask her to be here, even if part of me selfishly wanted her to be. But it was more important for her to be with Sarah.

“It’s just like my grandmother to die on someone’s birthday,” I muttered.

“She’s not dead yet,” Henry said sharply.

It was cold of me to feel that way. I suspected he was as dependent on her as she was on him. He’d lived alone for so long, always the spare child until my father’s death. But he’d had too little time with his mother—just like me.

The doctor came in before I could apologize and it was obvious from his tired expression. It had been obvious to me when I’d tried to revive her at the museum. There could have been a miracle of course, but they were rare in these parts.

“I’m sorry,” he said, cutting to the chase. He paused and allowed Henry a moment to process this.

My uncle looked stricken himself and David jumped up to help him over to a chair.

“What happened?” I asked.

“A heart attack. There was nothing to be done. It was too much. We couldn’t reset the sinus rhythm. From the looks of it, she may have been suffering smaller attacks for several days.”

That was why she’d been acting so strangely. Guilt washed over me when I realized she’d been trying to tell me at the party, but why come to me?

“She seemed confused,” I said.

“That’s natural,” the doctor said. “She may have had trouble getting enough oxygen to her brain. Some patients experience memory loss or confusion.”

Memory loss. She’d come to me because she thought I was the King and she’d been cared for by one her whole life—and I’d failed her.

“She’s being examined now, but our toxicologist did notice some strange things. What medications was she on?”

“General ones,” Henry said. “She had one to help with her arrhythmia.”

“And she was taking it?” The doctor frowned.

“Yes. Well, she missed a few days when we returned to London. Clara had to pick some up at the chemist for her,” Henry said.

“Clara,” I said in surprise.

“She offered to help when I shared my concern. Your grandmother was insisting she didn’t need it. That she would see the doctor. Would missing a few days cause this problem?” Henry looked devastated. He hung his head. “I should have insisted.”

“Do you have the pills she was taking?” The doctor asked.

“They’re in her purse.” Henry gestured to the bag he’d carried in under his arm like a security blanket.

“May I?”

I nodded to the doctor, wondering why we were going to this much trouble. My grandmother was an old, bitter woman who’d lived too long a life.

The doctor retrieved the bottle and studied it for a moment. “I’d like to show these to the toxicologist.”

“Of course,” Henry said absently. Edward had moved next to him and begun to talk quietly.