Page 52 of Charity

“Agatha, would you mind finding a servant to fetch me a drink? They’re not looking in this direction,” her grandfather huffed, mopping his brow once more.

Agatha rose. “Of course, sir. I shall be back directly.”

As she crossed the room, Agatha had to pass directly beside Oscar. He caught the trailing ribbons on her gown and tugged. Agatha ignored him. What else could she do? But she did hope her grandfather had not noticed. He was worrying her enough as it was, without getting into a temper over Oscar. He would understand everything tomorrow, once Oscar had spoken with him.

She accepted a glass of champagne and started back toward her grandfather. But the crowd had shifted and Agatha became trapped with Oscar in her way. He grinned down impishly at her and set his hand to her arm.

“Excuse me, my lord. May I pass?”

“Not just yet. I need to tell you something.”

Agatha shook off his grip, afraid of how much she wanted to step into his arms and be held. “Now?”

“It can wait till tomorrow, but it is very important.”

His face became serious and Agatha was suddenly afraid he’d changed his mind about flouting convention and marrying her. Panicked, she glanced around him, but her grandfather had moved from his seat. “Do you see Mr. Birkenstock, my lord?”

“No.” Oscar acquired her fingers to ease her through the cluster of gentlemen. “But we shall find him together if you like.”

Lord Daventry approached. “Forgive me, Miss Birkenstock, I was just coming to find you. Your grandfather wishes to leave and requests your presence in the front hall.”

With another squeeze, Oscar released her fingers. Agatha made her way to Lilly, wished her a good night then turned to find Lord Daventry waiting patiently. He held out his arm to lead her across the crowded room.

“Thank you, my lord.”

Lord Daventry leaned close. “I wondered if I might have a word before we rejoin your grandfather. I didn’t think he looked particularly well just now. Do not hesitate to send word if you are ever in need of assistance.”

Agatha’s heart began to thump wildly. So it was not just her imagination. She’d thought her grandfather had begun to seem older, weaker of late. Yet she’d stubbornly refused to consider the implications fully. He was nearing four and sixty. He wouldn’t live forever, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

Agatha forced a reassuring smile to her lips, but inside she quaked. “I’m sure it is nothing serious. Good night, my lord. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

The earl frowned again, but then signaled for the footmen to open the doors without another word. She looked about her, but couldn’t see her grandfather. The butler stood at the door, ready with her wrap, then escorted her outside and helped her embark. Inside, her grandfather appeared to be resting with his eyes closed. The carriage lurched and for a brief moment his eyes flickered open, but quickly shut again.

Unsure what to make of his reticence, Agatha watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was just tired. Tomorrow she would force him to remain in the house until he regained his stamina.

As the carriage rattled through the dark London streets, Agatha mulled over her evening. Until the later part, she had enjoyed herself. Dining at Oscar’s side was a feat she’d never managed before. He was an engaging conversationalist. But for the first time, she appreciated being in his orbit. Although he had barely touched her all night, he had made her feel treasured and special. Would it be the same when she was his wife?

Or would he stray, as so many men did?

Although the future still held many unknown problems, she would set her worries aside for tonight. Tomorrow, she would send Lilly the largest bag of sweets she could find as a thank you for seating them together.

The carriage rumbled to a stop before her house. Her grandfather roused himself and exited the carriage. Eventually, just when she had begun to suspect he’d left her already, his hand extended to help her from the carriage. Agatha slipped her hand into his, the clamminess of her grandfather’s grip noticeable immediately.

“Sir?”

He slipped his arm about her shoulders—and she almost buckled under the strain of holding him up. Their butler, George, hurried forward to assist and looped his arm around her grandfather’s back, taking most of his weight. Together they climbed the endless stairs and got her grandfather into the foyer. With the greater light, the shine of his sweat-soaked skin and the unnaturally light color of his eyes worried her.

“Wallace!” George shouted, struggling to take more of her grandfather’s weight from her shoulders. The footman hurried to them and helped George support their master up the long flight of stairs. At the bottom, Agatha watched their unsteady progress, dread rising in a steady wave. Her grandfather’s head lolled forward, his gaze fixed on moving his feet. But his movements were clumsy, and when they reached the top, both servants hefted him between them to carry him into his room.

A hand touched her arm. Nell watched the proceedings with tears in her eyes. Agatha’s maid clearly expected the worst. But it couldn’t be his time yet. He was still too young, too vital for the cold of the earth to swallow him up. Agatha rushed up the stairs and turned for her grandfather’s room. The servants had maneuvered him onto the bed and were removing his shoes and untying his cravat. Her grandfather lay silent, allowing the servants to fuss without comment.

She glanced at his chest. It still rose and fell in a steady rhythm…but then she heard the loud rasp of his breath as the room fell silent.

Everyone turned toward the bed, perhaps counting the labored breathing. Agatha moved forward and clutched her grandfather’s arm, then slipped her fingers over his broad hand. His hand was slack of strength and unnaturally cold.

George moved a chair close behind her and she lowered herself blindly. He was dying before her very eyes.

Agatha drew in great gasping breaths as her heart raced in fear. “Fetch a doctor. Now.”