“What is it?” Diana was afraid to ask, but she had to know.
“Most likely he’s a bit croupy.”
“Croup?” How did one treat that?
“Aye, I’m hoping that’s all it is.”
Shand tapped on the open door. “What can I do for you, my lady?”
Louisa addressed him without looking up. “I need a few things from the apothecary in town. Camphor oil, yarrow powder, and some cloves. Hurry, man. Don’t stand there like a garden statue.”
“My lady?” he asked Diana. Ignoring Louisa, he clearly didn’t wish to take orders from the housekeeper.
Those two got along like oil and water, but Diana had no time for their antics at the moment. “Please get everything she needs. And ask the earl to come to my room.” Evan would want to know. And she wanted him to be with her.
Shand glared at Louisa, then bowed quickly and was gone.
The one-eyed footman reappeared with a coal hod and a can of water.
Louisa directed him. “Bring several of those tall-backed chairs from the hall and two new bed sheets and some blankets.”
Diana continued to hold Cian. Evan strode into the room, concern reflected in his blue eyes. “What’s going on?”
Cian coughed, his little chest wheezing and his face going red. Diana looked up at her husband. “He’s sick. It came on suddenly.”
Evan’s large hand came out to cradle the baby’s head, and her heart squeezed. Just having him there comforted her.
Marcus came into the room, his hands in his pockets, his expression sober. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Shand is going into town to get some things for Louisa. She’s got a plan.”
“I could use your help.” The housekeeper stoked the fire. “Help me arrange some furniture if you will, sir.”
Marcus and the footman arranged four ladder-backed chairs in a square, and Louisa shook out a bed sheet, draping it over the chairs. “Steam will help him breathe easier. We’ll boil some water and hold him under the tent to trap the steam in with him.”
“What about his fever?” Evan asked. “Won’t the steam heat him up?”
“It won’t matter if he can’t breathe. We’ll deal with the fever later.” She poured a boiling kettle of water into a basin. “Whenever that man gets back with the camphor oil, we’ll add that to the water. Hope he doesn’t take his sweet time.”
She reached for Cian, but Diana shook her head. “I’ll keep him. Just tell me what to do.”
“It’s no job for a lady. Let me sit under the tent with him.”
“No.” She couldn’t turn loose of him. Evan’s brows arrowed together, and he looked from Beth to Diana. The maid looked concerned but not panicked, not the way she would if Cian were really her son.
Not the way Diana felt. But there was no time for explanations, not now.
Evan held the sheet up, and she ducked under with the baby in her arms, seating herself on the square of carpet in the center of the chairs. Louisa pushed the basin in beside her, and Diana put Cian in her lap, loosening his blankets. He would be warm enough without them.
Steam rose from the porcelain basin, and Diana’s skin became damp. Cian continued to wheeze and bark, working hard to get air. The skin on his fingers and around his lips became blue.
Louisa changed the water, and a fresh batch of steam rolled up. Diana’s dress, so carefully chosen for tonight’s dinner, stuck to her skin. Cian’s brown eyes closed, and she wanted to cry. Her every attention was on the rise and fall of his little chest, the sound of his raspy breaths.
A commotion at the bedroom door drew her attention.
“You took long enough,” Louisa snapped.
“I had to rouse the apothecary. Here.” Paper rustled. “I went as fast as I could.”
Evan raised the sheet to check on Diana. “Medicine’s here.”
Louisa edged around him, reaching into the steam tent to let a few drops fall from a small bottle into the water. Immediately Diana could feel her own sinuses clear as the pungent aroma of camphor filled the small space.
“That should help.” Louisa stoppered the bottle. “We’ll refresh it often.”
Cian lay in Diana’s lap, arms and legs lax, as if he had no strength for anything but trying to breathe. While her eyes watered at the almost noxious strength of the camphor, he appeared unaffected. If anything, the baby seemed to grow worse, almost choking.
After an eternity, Louisa threw back the sheets. “It’s not working. We’ll have to try something else.”
“What?”
“His throat is full of phlegm. We have to make him choke it up.”
Panic made her arms shake. “How? Will that work?”
“We don’t have a choice.” Louisa rummaged through the bottles Shand had brought. “You,” she barked at the steward. “Cut a rock of sugar off that cone.”
Evan put his arm around Diana, and she leaned into him, cradling Cian against her chest.
Quickly, Louisa took the chunk of sugar, popped it onto a spoon, and let a few drops fall out of a medicine bottle onto the sugar, which melted into a grainy slush.
“This will make him vomit, so be ready. I won’t use much, because he’s so small.”
She tipped Cian back in Diana’s arms, pushed down his chin, and poured the contents of the spoon into his mouth.
Within seconds Cian began to drool, and his breathing worsened. “He’s choking. What did you give him?” Diana almost screamed, holding the baby forward over her arm, letting the drool spill to the floor.
Louisa reached for the basin to catch the spittle.
Then he erupted. And continued to do so for several minutes.
But when he finally stopped retching, he began to cry.
The most beautiful cry Diana had ever heard, clear and indignant. Before, he had been trying so hard to breathe that he’d had no air for crying. Now his wails filled the room as tears filled her eyes. God, You hear me. Thank You. Thank You for saving him. Thank You for sending Louisa. Thank You, thank You, thank You. The words echoed through her head in a steady stream as she cuddled Cian close.
“He’s coughed up the phlegm.” Louisa sank into a chair, putting her face in her hands. “Thank the Lord.”
“Amen.” Evan sagged onto the blanket chest at the foot of the bed, his hands braced on his knees.
Diana realized he must have been praying as hard as she.
Taking a cool cloth, Diana bathed Cian’s little face, which made him mad. She laid him on the bed and changed his gown, and when she wrapped him tight and put him against her shoulder to cuddle him, he quieted and fell asleep.
“My sweet boy. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you,” she murmured against his neck.
As Louisa, Shand, and the footman cleaned things up, Evan put his hand on Diana’s arm. “Perhaps you can give Cian back to his mother now?” His voice was dry, brittle as the brambles that had covered White Haven such a short time ago. “If she is his mother. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Cian belonged to you.”
Beth, who had been sitting in the corner of the room throughout the evening, jolted, and everyone in the room stilled.
Diana’s eyes clashed with Marcus’s. The time of reckoning had come.