“What are you going to do?” she asked. “About what I’ve told you. Are you going to tell Evan?”
“You need to tell him yourself before he finds out some other way. He deserves to know.” Marcus held out his hand to help her to her feet. “He’s a good man, and he’ll do the right thing.”
Diana’s fingers curled, and she withdrew them from his grasp. What if Evan thought the right thing was turning the child over to his legal guardian? What if Evan was furious with her for lying to him?
God, give me courage.
CHAPTER 12
THE FIRST NIGHT in their new home should have been a joyous occasion, but Diana was so preoccupied with what Marcus had told her, she could barely keep her mind on hosting dinner. The food was excellent, mostly because Marcus had brought with him a chef, properly interviewed in London by his mother and passed as acceptable. Tomorrow Diana would meet with the new cook to plan menus for the week and begin preparations for the Royal Visit, but for today she would be thankful he was proving as capable as his references suggested.
Awash in candlelight, the dining room showed to wonderful advantage. Fresh paint, the murals restored, gleaming china and silver, everything perfect. Evan sat at the head of the polished table, with Marcus and Diana on either side.
Even the cherubs overhead seemed to be happy with the improvements. Though they didn’t have her worries.
“I still can’t believe the mountain of work you’ve accomplished.” Marcus eyed the massive gilt mirror over the fireplace. “You would never know the house was an abandoned wreck just a few short weeks ago. Once you finish the Royal Apartments, you’ll be ready for His Highness’s visit.”
“There’s still a fair bit to do before the estate is self-sufficient.” Evan poked the duck breast in cherry sauce on his plate. “I don’t know that I will ever grow accustomed to this fancy food. Not after years of dried peas and salted beef in the army.”
Diana pushed her food around her plate. The chef was essential for hosting the Royal Visit, and she was grateful for the Duchess of Haverly seeing to finding one for White Haven, but Diana, too, had grown accustomed to the plainer fare of the inn.
Marcus studied her across the table, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Would he tell Evan her secret? Would he feel compelled to tell her father?
Perhaps tonight, when everyone had retired, she would find the courage to tell Evan, to beg him for help in protecting Cian.
One of the footmen, a retired soldier with a dashing eye patch, removed her plate. Bending close, he murmured, “My lady, your maid needs you upstairs.”
“Now?” Diana took her napkin from her lap.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s something to do with the child. She’s in your bedchamber.”
Marcus watched her, and she swallowed. Dare she leave him alone with Evan? But Cian needed her. She placed her napkin beside her goblet and rose.
Evan and Marcus got to their feet, her husband’s brows rising.
“Excuse me, please, gentlemen. Something needs my attention.” She followed the footman out of the dining room, casting one last glance back at Marcus, hoping he would hold his tongue in her absence.
Upstairs, Beth paced Diana’s bedroom, Cian against her shoulder. A flush rode the baby’s cheeks, and his eyes were dull.
“What is it?” Diana rushed forward, hands outstretched for the boy.
“He’s feverish, ma’am. And his breathing is queer.” The girl handed Cian over, worry screwing up her features. “It came on sudden-like. He’s had a bit of a heavy chest and a sniffle the past couple of days, but it got worse quickly. He’s off his feed, and I can’t seem to liven him up.”
Diana touched Cian’s tiny hand, alarmed at the heat radiating from his skin. His narrow chest rose and fell rapidly, but it was the lack of interest in his eyes that scared her most.
“Get me some cool water, and have Miss Monroe bring me a sugar cone.” Perhaps he was just wearing too many blankets. She would perk him up with a bit of sugar water, and maybe he’d be fine. Diana laid the baby on the satin bedcover and unwrapped one of the blankets Beth had swaddled him in.
Beth scurried from the room, and Diana lifted the listless baby into her arms, cradling him and pacing. Normally at this time of the evening, Cian was fussy, ready for his bottle and bedtime. At the inn, Diana had worried that his crying every evening would upset the patrons of the taproom downstairs. Now she wished he would cry a little bit.
Was it just a feverish cold? Or something more? Should she send for a doctor? How could she know? The thick rug cushioned her footsteps, and a fire chased the early spring chill from the room, but gooseflesh appeared on Diana’s arms, and her feet felt like lead. The room was beautifully appointed with pale-green satins and ormolu furnishings, but she ignored all of it in favor of the dark-eyed child.
Please, Lord, You can heal. You can help. I need Your help now. Was He listening? Did He know how much she loved this baby? How much she needed him? Please, let me know You hear me.
Beth returned with the water, and Louisa followed with a paper-wrapped sugar cone from the safe in the butler’s pantry.
“My lady?” the housekeeper asked, the keys on her chatelaine jingling softly. “What’s wrong with the wee sprout?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, coming forward and cupping his head, listening to his breathing. “I don’t like the sound of that chest.”
There was a bit of a rasp each time Cian inhaled. Diana realized she was breathing harder, as if she could help him.
“What should we do?”
“Let’s try to get him cooled off and see what happens. Fevers rise quickly in little ones, and they can drop just as fast. Many’s the village child I’ve treated. It’s probably nothing to worry about.”
The housekeeper’s bustling, assured manner gave Diana confidence. “You don’t think we need to send for the doctor?”
“I wouldn’t let that man treat a sick cat. He’s got no more notion of how to cure patients than a doorstop would.” Her mouth pinched. “He’d probably prescribe blister packs and whiskey for the child. Now, let’s see that young man.”
Though they bathed Cian, and he did seem some cooler, his breathing didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse over the next hour. Each intake brought a rattle, and each exhale sounded like a tiny bark. What was happening to him? He took only a few teaspoons of the sugar water, too exhausted for more.
Louisa’s brusque tongue and hearty manner faded, and her face grew grim. Diana worried anew, pacing with Cian in her arms, glancing at the clock every time she passed it, praying without forming words in her head.
Finally the housekeeper motioned to Beth, as if coming to a decision. “Go and get Mr. Shand. And bring some coal and a kettle. Have one of the footmen bring cans of water. Hurry, girl.”
“What are you doing? Why do you need Mr. Shand?” Diana’s arms tightened around Cian. “Do you know what this sickness is?”
“We’ll try a few remedies and see what helps.” Louisa opened the cupboard under the washstand and withdrew a stack of cloths. She dipped one in the fresh water Beth had just brought and drew it down Cian’s cheek. The baby squeaked and snuffled, then went back to concentrating on breathing.