The Skilled Seduction (10 page)

He expected Victoria to laugh. Instead she pressed her forefinger against her lips, as if trying to retain her composure.

Why did she always draw his attention to her full lips?

“Was that Emma’s edict or Nicholas’s?” she asked, taking another strawberry.

“Both, as it turns out,” he did his best to appear affronted, noticing her intimate habit of partaking in his refreshments. Be it at Almack’s or here, it had become a habit – one that he reveled in.

For what seemed like minutes but was in fact probably seconds, they stared at each other, each trying not to laugh.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Gwen interrupted the heavy silence. “I believe my children are still in hiding.”

“Oh, dear lord, I’ve forgotten,” Victoria turned to her friend, her eyes widened with shock.
   

“I noticed,” Gwen grinned. “Have some breakfast. Tristan was just sitting down to eat.”

Gwen shot Victoria and Tristan a knowing glance before exiting the bright room in a flurry of pale blue skirts, humming a tune Victoria didn’t recognize.

As she reached for a piece of bacon, Tori exclaimed. “I do hope
I
am more subtle when I play matchmaker.”

“If subtlety is your goal while playing matchmaker, I regret to inform you that you fail miserably,” Tristan teased. “I noticed you spoke in the present tense. Who are your latest victims?”

Tempted as she was to address his question, Victoria decided against it, choosing instead to chew her piece of bacon. She then studied him.

Tristan was different this morning. In fact, he was flirting with her.

That must be a good sign.

“Pray, tell, Mr. MacAlistair, have you used your political influence to procure me the right to vote?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“Good heavens, no,” he chided. “I fear what would happen to the kingdom if we were to grant you such authority.”

“I’ll have you know that I am more intelligent than most men.”

He placed a muffin on a china plate and offered it to her as a truce. “That’s what frightens me. Before I know it, you’d be a member of parliament and what fun would that be?”

“Yes, what fun indeed,” she countered as she accepted the plate he was offering her. “Speaking of authority, you have quite a bit of it. Have you used said authority to find me the perfect husband?”

Before Tristan could respond, a child’s footsteps bounded down the hallway and both turned to see Nicholas running into the room, his face tear-streaked.
   

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Victoria rose from her chair so quickly that she bumped into the table, causing it to wobble.

“Ma – Ma – Mama,” he cried, his lip trembling.

The sound of cutlery dropping against china rang through her ears as Tristan jumped to his feet.
 

“Where is she, Nicholas?” Tori asked, taking great pains to sound normal in a desperate attempt not to further frighten the child. “Take us to your mama.”

Nicholas led them to the gardens. Leaves crunched beneath their boots as they approached Gwen’s still form lying in the grass.

“Gwen,” Tristan said in a jagged whisper, as if the sight of his sister’s lifeless body had sucked the very breath from his lungs.

“Oh, my God,” Victoria whispered, clutching Nicholas’s hand and reciting a silent prayer as Tristan knelt beside his sister and checked for her pulse.

Please, dear God, don’t let her be dead. Please God, not Gwen.

“She’s alive,” was all he could manage.

Victoria studied her sister-in-law who had quickly become one of her dearest friends. Gwen lay stiff, motionless, and pale. She then glanced at Tristan who was ashen.

“Tristan, should you bring her inside?” Victoria asked.

He didn’t answer, instead pleading to his unconscious sister. “Please, Gwen, wake up.”

Gwen didn’t respond.

“Tristan,” Victoria implored. “Listen to me. She needs help. Gwen needs you.”

Her words seemed distant, even to her own ears.
 

“Carry Gwen inside,” Victoria continued issuing edicts. “Have Winston fetch Dr. Danbury. I will meet you inside as soon as I find Emma.”

It wasn’t until Tristan reached for his sister that Tori realized his hands were shaking. “Tristan,” she knelt beside him, placing her free hand over his in an attempt to infuse strength. “Attend to your sister. Have Winston fetch Dr. Danbury.”

Once Tristan moved into action, Tori again focused on Nicholas who was now sobbing. “Where is your sister, sweetheart?” she asked him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

The young boy didn’t answer, too traumatized to speak as tears streamed down his flushed cheeks.

“Darling,” she tried again, gently wiping his tear stained face with her fingertips. “Nicholas, please answer me.”

“Hiding.”

“Emma, honey, where are you?” she called, her tone taut with anxiety. “Emma, come to me.”

There was no response.
Please dear God, not Emma too.

Victoria knelt beside Nicholas. “Do you know where your sister is hiding?”

He sniffled before pointing to a nearby bush. Leading him by the hand, Tori found Emma huddled with her knees tucked under her chin, rocking back and forth.

Tori reached for the little girl, encircling both children in her arms.
 

“You’re both safe,” she promised them only what she could, rubbing their backs in a soothing circular motion.
   

Dear God, please let Gwen be all right.

Her eyes blurred with unshed tears. She blinked them away, silently commanding herself not to fall apart.
 

Well aware that her emotions were still teetering above the surface, Victoria steeled her shoulders. The twins needed her, her brother needed her, and Tristan …

As long as Victoria lived, she would never forget the expression on his face when he saw his sister lying unconscious in the grass.
   

Gwen couldn’t die. Too many people loved her and needed her.

Dear God, please let Gwen be all right.

Victoria refused to accept the alternative.

Chapter 5

Propelled by her desperate need to be useful, Victoria carried a small silver tray containing a cold compress and a pitcher of water into her sister-in-law’s suite of rooms.
 

Night had fallen, yet in spite of the warm light emanating from the fireplace and wall sconces, the stuffy room remained shrouded in shadows – as if death itself hovered above the inhabitant of the opulent surroundings.

“She continues to run a fever,” Dr. Danbury assessed his patient’s health. “Has she had any complaints of late?”

“Gwen has been fatigued,” Victoria answered. “But that is to be expected with twins, is it not?”

Even though the Duke and Duchess of Davenport employed a nanny for their children, theirs was a most unconventional arrangement since mother, father and aunt doted on them incessantly and spent as much time as possible with them.
 

She studied Dr. Danbury, who wore a solemn expression and acknowledged her answer with a slight nod. Victoria crossed the room, placing the tray upon one of the bedside tables, out of the good doctor’s way.
   

Neither Sebastian nor Tristan had spoken since she entered the room. Victoria glanced from one to the other, noting that each man looked frightful, helped none by the dim light. Their familiar bronzed complexions were pallid and dark circles had formed under their eyes, making their faces appear hollow.
 

Two strong, healthy men had been reduced in a matter of hours into shells of their usual selves.

They don’t think Gwen will survive.

Victoria refused to entertain such a notion.
 

Instead, she sat beside her friend and placed the cold compress against her forehead as Dr. Danbury instructed. Gwen hadn’t regained consciousness since her collapse.

She can’t die. She mustn’t leave us. Dear God, I beg you. Please don’t let Gwen die.

Several tears fell from Tori’s eyes, though she refused to acknowledge them. Instead, Victoria whispered to her friend, “You are strong. Fight this, Gwen. Fight and return to your family.”

“My apologies, your Grace,” Dr. Danbury’s voice was barely above a ragged whisper. “I have exhausted my methods of treatment. My assistant is fetching a specialist from London though I am not certain if he will arrive in time to save your wife.”

“You’re saying Gwen will die?” Tristan’s voice erupted in a fit of rage, rattling Victoria’s already frayed nerves.

“Your sister hasn’t regained consciousness, Mr. MacAlistair, and her fever hasn’t subsided, no matter what treatment I have administered.”

Tristan snorted. “What kind of physician are you? Renouncing your patient? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Cloaked in silence, Sebastian crossed the room, his faint footfalls barely audible on the thick Persian rug. He then stood stock-still in front of the closed curtains, staring blankly ahead. Victoria studied his posture – shoulders slumped, body limp – as he processed Dr. Danbury’s assessment. She wanted to comfort her brother.
 

Instead, Victoria remained with Gwen, squeezing her friend’s hand as she bent down to whisper, “You
can
survive Gwen. Please fight your way back to us. We love you and need you.”

Dear God, please heal her.

Dr. Danbury, who appeared to be choosing his words with great care, answered Tristan at last. “I am not forsaking my patient. I am simply being honest with you, son. It pains me that my assessment is such.”

Victoria studied her friend’s beautiful features, now flushed with fever, wondering if she would ever again see Gwen’s eyes open, witness her smile, or be able to converse with her.

This scene was all too familiar for Tori. She and Sebastian had kept a vigil by their mother’s bedside, as well.

Tori remembered wondering the same things she did now, praying for a miracle that was never granted, watching helplessly as their mother quietly passed the following morning. Victoria’s chest constricted, her anguish and concern overpowering her at last as her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

Please, dear God, not again.

A suffocating hush engulfed the gloomy room, the stale stench of death clinging to the shadows cast upon the walls by flickering wall sconces. Victoria felt a presence beside her. Even before she turned, she recognized it to be Tristan and that he too was overcome with grief and fear.

His eyes were almost onyx in the pale light, his expression downright menacing. In complete contrast, several tears clung to his cheeks. It was the only time she had ever seen him cry, the sight fracturing Victoria’s heart into a million jagged pieces.

Tristan remained rooted at Gwen’s bedside, studying his sister. He sought for a sign, any indication that she would awaken from her present state. He was desperate to speak to her, to reach out for her, yet his arms, his mouth, his entire body felt heavy.
 

The thought of saying goodbye to Gwen all but paralyzed him.
 

They had been together since birth, celebrating each birthday, each holiday, and every milestone in each other’s lives together until recently. Even when they weren’t in the same residence or living within the same city, Tristan always knew his sister was somewhere, alive and walking upon the same earth.
     

He couldn’t say goodbye nor could he live one day, let alone a lifetime, knowing that he was alive and his twin sister was not.

Gwen was his much better half.

Why hadn’t he considered that one of them would depart this world before the other? He knew the answer all too well – because the aspect was too daunting, too painful, and he never expected the time would come so soon.
 

Why not me
?
I deserve death more than my sister. Take me instead
.

Victoria’s statement came back to haunt him.
Gwen has been fatigued.
He hadn’t spent enough time with his sister to notice. Gwen had been so very concerned for him these past couple of years.

It’s my fault she’s sick.

More tears spilled from his eyes. He didn’t care. He would never care about anything again.

Victoria gently placed Tristan’s hand atop his sister’s. He didn’t question how Victoria knew this was what he needed. Somehow, she simply did.

Tristan kissed his sister’s hand. It was cold and clammy.
Is this what death feels like?
More tears blurred his vision as he suspected that the doctor was correct in his assessment.
   

Gwen is going to die.

Victoria placed her hand on his arm. He could feel her warmth through the thin material of his shirt.
 

She is life while my twin … no, I won’t accept this.

He glanced at Sebastian who now stood at Gwen’s bedside. The man was devastated, that much was evident, though he was calm … too calm in Tristan’s opinion.