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So she dressed up and went to the healer Anna had recommended.

Helen didn’t expect a miracle, but the healer’s tincture seemed to help her joints, so she wondered if she’d have anything that would help Helen feel better.

Zara, the infamous healer, lived on the outskirts of the village and spoke very little English. But she was a wise old woman with sun-kissed skin and a hoarse voice that added to her appeal.

To Helen’s surprise, she didn’t recommend bloodletting or even laudanum to ease her pain. On the contrary, she told her to avoid anything that brought her pain. She gave her more tincture for her joints, a salve for her skin, and a tonic for her headaches. Then she said, “Listen your body. If you want sleep then sleep. If you want eat then eat. If you want drink, drink water. Not Thames bad water.” She shuddered, making Helen chuckle. “Clean, Highland water. Rest and take life from nature.”

Helen grimaced. She couldn’t take life from nature, especially when the sun gave her sore, scaly skin. But when she mentioned that, the healer waved the issue away. “Then don’t go to sun! Or cover yourself. Listen your body!”

Helen chuckled and left the healer in higher spirits.

She was certain that advice would not work for everyone. Some illnesses had proven treatments from doctors. In her case? Why not listen to her body? Especially since she had an understanding husband who would not care if she spent half—or even an entire day in bed. On the contrary, he would curl up beside her and read to her so she wouldn’t strain her eyes.

My husband.

It sounded strange and right at the same time.

When she returned to Ian’s room, he was poring over papers as he often was. But his brows were furrowed, and he looked more troubled than Helen had ever seen him.

“What’s wrong?” she said from the threshold before entering his room.

He stood immediately and rushed toward her, taking her hands in his. “Where did you go? I was worried.”

Helen squeezed his fingers. “I went to the healer that Anna recommended.”

“And?” He looked so anxious that all Helen wanted to do was soothe his fears away.

“And,” Helen said slowly, “I decided that you were right. I can’t forsake everything I have in this life just because I might perish soon. Even if everything hurts half of my life, I have another half to look forward to.”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “You are not weak, you know. Whoever convinced you of that lied. You’re not a delicate flower, at least not one that breaks from a tiny gust of wind. You’re like a willow: elegant, beautiful, and perhaps you shake and struggle under harrowing circumstances. Maybe you sway a little with the wind, but you don’t break. You’re tough, resilient. You endured so many years of hardship. You shall endure the years full of love and laughter and my brutish passion.”

Helen let out a chuckle. “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I won’t endure it. I will enjoy it.”

Ian lowered his face and captured her lips in the sweetest kiss. “But what did the healer say?” he asked, once he pulled away, still holding her hands in his, as if unable to let go.

“She said not to fight my symptoms,” Helen answered as she gazed into Ian’s dear eyes. “She said I should embrace them and build my life around them. Which is the first piece of advice from any healer that made sense to me. So many times I was told that if it hurts or leaves me feeling weak, it means the procedure is working. And it was never true. Her perspective was refreshing. And although she didn’t claim to cure me, she did ease my mind. And her remedies seem to ease the pain. So, I am going to listen to her. It doesn’t mean I will stop looking for a cure. But I won’t agree to painful and damaging procedures anymore. I won’t do anything that makes me miserable.”

Ian squeezed her fingers. “Seems like good advice for all aspects of life.”

“You are right.” Helen smiled before her gaze drifted to a spot Ian had occupied before she entered the room. “What were you doing before I came in?”

Ian glanced back at the papers strewn about the bed and grimaced. “I was going through the documents we stole from my father’s study.” He took her hand and led her toward the bed. Then he climbed onto the bed and pulled Helen onto his lap. “According to these documents, Father is deep in the planning of the rebellion. It is sure not to come soon, but when it does, it won’t bring anything good with it.”

“What are you going to do about it?” she asked, stroking his hair absently.

“If I hand these documents to my handler, my father, and likely my entire family, will be prosecuted.” He shook his head in dismay. “If I don’t, we’ll have a riot, a rebellion on our hands that can cost thousands of lives. What should I do?” He looked at her with burden-filled eyes, and all Helen wanted to do was soothe his worries away. But how could she?

“I don’t know if I am in any position to give you advice on things like this.”

“Aren’t you?” He ran his knuckles over her cheeks. “You saved me from your cousin’s wrath. You talked me into not throwing your cousin into gaol. You solved the mystery of the blackmail.”

She let out a chuckle. “You give me too much credit where it isn’t due.”

He shook his head. “What would you do?”

She took his restless hand and squeezed his fingers. “I’d talk to him. I would talk to your father and try to persuade him to stop what he’s doing.”

Ian grimaced. “I am a spy for the crown. He is a traitor. We couldn’t be further apart on a political scale. If I tell him that, I will fracture our family forever.” There was anguish in his voice, something Helen understood very well.