Page 70 of The Duke and His Jilted Bride

The words had a greater effect on him than she thought. He glanced almost imperceptibly at the door behind them. She knew he was thinking about Frederick. But she didn’t want to know about him yet.

“I don't want to talk about Seraphina,” Evander said quietly. “I have thought about nothing but Frederick for six hours. Before that it was Seraphina. Before that I was… I have not thought about anything that mattered for too long, and I am done wasting my time.” He took her face in his hands. “I want to be with you. That is all I want. You will unpack your bags and you will stay with me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she said, ashamed that she had ever made him think she wanted to be elsewhere. He was kissing her cheeks, and she curled into him. His tears were on her skin. “But you need to sleep,” she urged gently. “Frederick is going to need you tomorrow and you can't help him if you don’t rest.”

“I know,” he whispered between kisses.

“Not in a chair.”

“I know.”

“So come to bed – and sleep beside me.”

He stopped, his lips parted, to look at her. Something moved across his face, uncertain but relieved.

They went upstairs in the dark with her hand in his. The dogs stayed downstairs. It was just them in that cold house, in the early hours of the morning. Her heart was going very fast. She was surprised he couldn't hear it.

At his door he stopped and looked at her. Then they went in, and she didn't think about leaving or staying, or anything other than him.

On the other side of that closed door, she tried to rub the blood off his face. When that was unsuccessful, he moved to the wash basin to clean himself. Aurelia swore she could see his shoulders shaking. Slowly, she crossed to him and begged him wordlessly to turn around. Taking the damp washing cloth from him, she held his face with one hand and cleaned him with the other. He sighed, and cried a little, as she rubbed the cloth against his flesh, where stubble was already pushing through his skin.

His eyes were pressed close, and she was so absorbed in her task that she barely heard it when he said, “I love you.”

Her throat closed. Before she could ask what he had said, he took her wrist, still leaning against the wash bowl, and removed the red-stained cloth from her fingers.

“Look at me when I say this,” he whispered. “I love you, Aurelia. Not just because of today – because I am tired and afraid for my brother, and you have been kind. I love you for who you are, what you make me feel, and for a hundred other reasons I cannot put into words even if I tried. You are…” He took in a trembling breath. “What you are, is the greatest woman I have ever known. I could not forbid myself from loving you if I tried, and Lord knows I have tried. You need not say⁠—”

“But I want to say it,” she interrupted, tears flowing freely down her face. “I do love you, too. I fear I have loved you for many weeks, and not allowed myself to admit it because… Because I never thought…”

“No,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against him. She fit like a glove – perfect. “I never thought either. But we were both fools in that regard.”

“I will happily be a fool with you,” she said against his vest, rubbing her face against his chest, wanting to breathe in every part of him, this man who loved her. “Tonight, and then tomorrow, and every day, as it comes.”

Next morning, he went downstairs alone too close to midday for comfort. Aurelia was upstairs trying to persuade Seraphina to eat something. This had apparently been ongoing since ten o’clock. He had left her at Seraphina's door with a tray, pausing to kiss the back of her free hand before going down to his brother.

He loved Aurelia. He had finally said it, and she had said it back. They had slept for four hours in his bed, but the hours had been broken and painful when she had not been in his arms. He was going to think about that properly later – when his brother was not lying in the downstairs drawing room. He heard hushed voices on the other side of the door as he approached.

He pushed it open to find the physician standing by Frederick’s makeshift bedside. Frederick was awake – pale, teeth chattering, but awake. That was the only thing that mattered.

“Brother,” Evander said, rushing to his side.

Frederick looked at him. His expression was difficult to read. He looked tired and pained, but also relieved to be alive, perhaps, or to not be alone.

“Go on,” Frederick said to the doctor, his voice shaking. He licked his dry lips. His voice was rough “How… bad. Tell him what you told me.”

Evander pulled the chair to the side of the sofa but didn’t sit yet. Doctor Moore was washing his hands in the basin they had brought down the night prior. His face was mostly neutral, but his thick eyebrows were drawn together tight. A bottle of laudanum was open next to him.

He sighed. “It is my opinion that the leg is communited, Your Grace.”

“Don’t be shy,” Frederick cut in when the doctor hesitated, choking on a sad laugh. “You told Poole earlier. I kept coming in and out with the sun. I don't know when it was exactly. But I heard… And I feel…”

“Heard what?” Evander asked.

Frederick rolled his eyes as well as he could in his state. “He said the leg can’t be salvaged – didn’t you? That I’m sick with it too… And if it spreads…”

Moore shook his head. “I warned you last night, Your Grace.”

“I’m so hot. All I feel is burning. I can’t feel my toes, brother.” Frederick looked up at Evander with a smile that broke his heart in two. “Or my knees. Though…” He coughed. “I don’t know if I could feel them before, even… I…”