The Last Duke (The 1797 Club Book 10)

by Jess Michaels

  Breathing her back to life.

  Hope flared. He had no idea if such a thing would work, but he gripped his hands into fists at his sides as he prayed it would.

  “Please,” he murmured, not caring that the mournful sound was out loud now, heard by all. “Oh, please don’t take her. I will do anything.”

  They continued their work for another moment and then Sarah turned her head and retched water onto the shore. She gasped for air, one breath, two, and Kit went down to his knees as he realized she was alive. She was alive.

  The sobs of his friends turned to gasps of relief, joy and disbelief. He hardly heard any of it as he reached out to touch Sarah’s hand again. She turned her face, her blue eyes locking with his.

  “Ph-ph-phoebe,” she managed through the shivers that now wracked her.

  “Is fine,” he said as he bent and swept her into his arms. “You saved her life.” She didn’t fight him, but her head lolled into his shoulder. He looked at the group. “We need to get them up to the house and everyone dry.”

  “Yes, that water was frigid,” Diana said. “Everyone needs to change their clothes so none of you catch your deaths. Sarah more than anyone.”

  Kit was already striding up the hill, retracing the path they had come down with such laughter and happiness what felt like a lifetime ago.

  “Y-your Gr-gr-grace,” Sarah whispered without lifting her head. He ignored her, though her warm breath on his wet neck was the most beautiful sensation he’d ever felt in his life. “K-Kit! Please, I c-can w-walk—”

  He glared down at her. “Please shut up,” he snapped, sharper than he should have been but unable to do anything else thanks to the fear that still coursed through his veins. He felt her collapse against him again, her weak protests gone now.

  He was almost to the house now. Barrymore must have been doing something in the parlor and seen their approach, because the door flew open and he hurried out to the step.

  “Your Grace?” he called out, face lined with deep concern.

  “Miss Carlton had an accident,” he said. “Is my chamber at the ready?”

  Barrymore looked confused but did not comment on the odd request, just said, “Yes, Your Grace. They just finished with it. The fires are still lit.”

  “Good,” Kit said as he carried Sarah up the stairs two by two. He could hear everyone else talking to the butler, explaining to him what Kit had not been able to say out loud for fear of reliving those awful moments in the water and at its edge. He couldn’t do that, not when she was still unwell.

  “N-n-not your ch-chamber,” she murmured.

  Once again he ignored her protest and strode through his chamber door. Two maids, Jill and Lydia, were just finishing up their work, and both of them stopped and stared in horror at the soaking wet image before them.

  “Your Grace!” Jill cried. “Is that Miss Carlton?”

  He moved to rest her on his bed, but Diana and Hugh’s wife Amelia raced into the room.

  “No!” Diana called out. “You’ll make the bed wet. Put her on the settee. Amelia and I will take care of her.”

  He placed Sarah gently on the settee as they’d asked.

  “I’ll r-ruin i-it,” she said, staring up at him weakly.

  “I don’t care,” he managed through clenched teeth.

  “Now get out,” Amelia said, grabbing his arm and guiding him to the door. “You need to change out of those wet clothes. Check on your sister.”

  “Phoebe?” he whispered.

  Diana had moved to Sarah and glanced up. “Adelaide, Emma and Meg are tending to her. Now go.”

  Amelia gave him a short nod and then closed the door in his face. He stared at the barrier now between him and the woman who had nearly died to save his sister’s life. And he tipped forward to lean against the door as all the fear hit him at once.

  Sarah was aware of the soft, female hands moving over her body. Her sopping wet gown was being stripped away, and they were talking to the maids. Warm air brushed her bare skin and someone was rubbing a towel over her none too gently. Her flesh tingled as heat returned to it and slowly her awareness increased.

  “Here, hold up your arms,” Amelia, the Duchess of Brighthollow, said softly.

  Sarah lifted them as high as they would go, despite how heavy all her limbs felt. A shirt came down over her naked body. A man’s shirt. She realized with a start that it was Kit’s shirt. It was leagues too big and smelled of him. Leather and sandalwood and something generally masculine.

  The women caught her arms and helped her to unsteady feet. She let them draw her to the bed that the maids had turned down and slid between the sheets. Someone had placed a warming brick wrapped in flannel down at the bottom of the bed, and she shuddered as her cold toes hit that warm heaven.

  She was coming back to reality now. Memories returned of going under the water. Of the darkness. Of a bright light that followed it. A tunnel of light that had felt so welcoming. She’d seen her mother there and farther back, over her shoulder, Kit’s father. Everything had seemed so warm and happy and good.

  But her mother had reached out her hand and whispered, “Not yet, love.”

  Then Sarah had been on the shores of the lake, her lungs burning as she retched up water. She had died. Or almost died? Either way, a wave of emotion rose up in her and she began to weep.

  “Oh, dearest,” Amelia said as she climbed up beside Sarah on the bed and guided her head into her shoulder.

  “My hair is wet, I’ll ruin your gown,” Sarah said, her shivers finally subsiding enough that she didn’t stammer.

  “I don’t give a whit,” Amelia assured her as she smoothed her hand over that damp hair. “You cry now, it’s all right.”

  Diana was bustling on the side of the bed, pressing her thumb to Sarah’s wrist, placing a hand on her forehead, checking her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah sobbed.

  Diana hesitated and then cupped her cheeks gently. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were so very brave.”

  She shook her head against her friend’s hands. “No. No, it was my fault.”

  “How is that true?” Amelia asked.

  “I knew Phoebe was in a dudgeon and that it was far too early to go out on the boats. I was trying to give her space and allow her a little extra time. I was responsible for keeping her safe and I-I didn’t.” Her thoughts spun to Phoebe’s terrified expression, to her fearful thrashing. “That little girl has been through so much. Was she truly unharmed?”

  Amelia stroked her hair. “Just frightened, I think more over the potential of losing you than anything. You saved her life. And as far as it being your fault, any one of us might have taken her out in that boat. We’re all being a little more indulgent with her as she navigates her grief. If you hadn’t taken her, Hugh was discussing that he should, himself.”

  “If he had, I’m sure he wouldn’t have let her flip the boat,” Sarah said, her tears subsiding as she lifted her head from Amelia’s now-damp shoulder.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Diana said as she finished with her bustling and perched on the edge of Kit’s bed. “As Amelia said, that could have happened to anyone.”

  Sarah worried her lip. “I doubt the duke will see it that way,” she whispered, thinking of Kit’s arms around her as he carried her to the house, and of the sharpness with which he had spoken to her. “He shall sack me at last, put me out on the street without a reference.”

  “No,” Amelia reassured her.

  “He has been looking for a reason to do so,” Sarah said.

  Diana shook her head. “If he dared to do something like that after your heroics, he would have a gaggle of duchesses at his throat. The gentlemen have learned over the years, my dear, not to cross the wives. Kit included.”

  Amelia pushed to her feet. “I should go give the others an update on your condition.”

  Diana nodded. “A very good idea. And I know that Adelaide wi
ll make certain Phoebe is dry, but also be sure those men changed their clothing. I will not deal with pneumonia because they refused to stop beating their chests.”

  Amelia laughed as she gave a mock salute. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  After she’d gone, Diana glanced at Sarah. “You cannot really believe that Kit would dismiss you so cavalierly?”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah whispered. Except that wasn’t true. She did know. No matter what anyone said, she knew exactly the hell that would come. And probably sooner rather than later.

  Chapter Seven

  Kit walked into the parlor, straightening his waistcoat as he did so. He had not wanted to leave his chamber, but Barrymore had been quite insistent that he change so he didn’t fall ill. It had rather reminded him of when he was a child and the old butler had been an authority figure.

  As he entered the room, he came to a stop. Matthew and Isabel were sitting on the settee together. Her arms were around him and she was murmuring soft words in his ear. Both looked pale, drawn, and for a moment Kit considered just slipping out to grant them their privacy. But Isabel looked up before he could and got to her feet with a gentle smile.

  “Ah, Kit. Are you well?” she asked.

  He nodded slowly. “Any word about Miss Carlton?”

  “Amelia let us know the young lady will be fine,” Isabel reassured him. “Diana is still with her. And your sister is with Adelaide—they’re getting her dried off and taken care of. I think they intend to send her here to you in a short while.”

  She moved closer and glanced at Matthew. He had not risen from the couch, and stared at a spot on the floor with a faraway stare. “Talk to him,” she whispered.

  Kit jolted. He had been so wrapped up in his own part in the drama of the day that he hadn’t been thinking clearly about how it might affect Matthew. After all, he had witnessed a drowning before. It had not had a happy ending like today.

  “I will,” he said, stepping toward his friend.

  “Love,” Isabel said.

  Matthew jerked his gaze toward her and gave a weak smile. “Yes?”

  “I’m going to check on the baby,” she said. “And then I will find Lucas so you can have your questions answered.”

  Matthew pushed to his feet suddenly. “I love you.”

  Her expression softened. “I never doubt that. Never.”

  Then she slipped from the room. Matthew all but collapsed back on the settee and Kit took a careful place beside him. “You look like hell.”

  Matthew managed half a smile at the old form of ribbing the friends had shared for years. Decades. But Kit could see it would take more than a private joke to free Matthew from his dark thoughts.

  “You saved my sister,” he said.

  Matthew nodded. “Christ, Kit, when I saw that boat flip, I swear I was taken back in time.”

  “To Angelica,” Kit said gently. She had been Matthew’s fiancée what seemed like a lifetime ago. And she had died in an accident almost identical to today’s.

  “Everything seemed to slow to half time and all I could do was run.”

  “When I see you so happy with Isabel, it is easy to forget that you went through such an ordeal,” Kit said. “But I understand it better now. God knows I will never forget today until the day I draw my last breath.”

  “You will not,” Matthew said firmly. He glanced toward the door. “Speaking of Isabel, I feel terrible. My reaction was strong, I know it. So was hers…after all, Angelica was her cousin. It is our shared loss. But I hope it doesn’t hurt her, or make her think that I still hold Angelica in my heart.”

  “One only has to spend a moment with you two to see that Isabel holds your whole heart,” Kit said softly. “I’m certain she understands that you are reacting to the shock.” For a moment the two men were quiet, each lost in thought. “Why is she getting Lucas?”

  Matthew bent his head. “He did that thing…breathed into Sarah. Some kind of kiss of life.”

  Kit shifted. He’d thought it was a kiss, too, when Lucas had begun. “Yes, I’ve never seen such a thing.”

  “I want to know what it was,” Matthew said, his voice shaking. “And how to do it.”

  Kit reached out to squeeze his arm. “Of course you do.”

  Matthew sighed heavily and then shook his head. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

  “I’m…terrible, honestly. All I can do is think back over and over to my sister’s terrified face. And to how blue Sarah was. I thought she was dead, Matthew. I thought she was dead and I—”

  Matthew lifted both brows. “You what?”

  “It was such a strong reaction,” Kit whispered. “Like someone had reached into my chest and was tearing my heart in two. I’ve spent years telling myself I do not like this woman and yet when I thought I would lose her, I felt only regret.”

  Matthew’s brow wrinkled, but before he could say anything in response, Lucas entered the room. Like Matthew and Kit, he had also changed out of his wet clothing. They rose together, and Kit stepped forward.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Lucas tilted his head. “Of course. I’m just glad I had the training to be of some assistance.”

  Matthew gripped his hands at his sides. “What was that?”

  Lucas looked at their friend and Kit saw the same concern he felt. The same acknowledgement that when it came to this subject, Matthew was not going to be capable of rational response.

  “Matthew—”

  “Could I have done the same and saved her life?”

  Lucas reached out and gripped his arm. “The training is not common. I learned it from a boat captain just a few years ago while on assignment for the War Department. Diana and I have discussed it and altered it over time. There was no way you could have known to try such a thing in your situation. And you’ve told me about it before. Angelica was much farther away, your lake was larger. Honestly, a few more moments and it is possible I could not have saved Sarah. There was nothing you could have done, Matthew. Look at me.”

  Matthew was shaking and he met their friend’s eyes slowly. “Yes?”

  “There was nothing you could have done,” Lucas repeated.

  As Matthew relaxed a fraction, the door to the parlor opened again, and this time it revealed Phoebe and Adelaide. Immediately Kit dropped to his knees and opened his arms. His sister rushed to him, burying her face in his shoulder as he rocked her gently.

  “Come,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around Matthew gently. “Let the siblings reunite and I’ll teach you the method.”

  “Yes,” Matthew said, and the two joined Adelaide in the hallway and closed the door behind themselves.

  Kit swept his sister up and carried her over to the settee. He sat down, adjusting her in his lap, and couldn’t help but smile. She was getting so big—it seemed like she was all arms and legs now. And he would get to see her grow up, thanks to Sarah and his friends.

  “I’m sorry, Kit.” Phoebe’s voice was muffled against his shoulder and he reached up to smooth her hair. It was still damp, and he shuddered a little at the memories that brought back.

  “I know you are, poppin,” he said. “It was an accident—you didn’t mean to flip the boat.”

  She lifted her face from his shoulder and stared up at him. Her brown eyes were wide and still filled with unshed tears. “I didn’t.”

  “Shall we discuss what happened?” he asked softly, fighting to keep his voice firm but kind when all he wanted to do was cuddle her close and forget about what had happened that day.

  “I was upset.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You were throwing a tantrum.”

  She glanced away, a furtive and guilty stare. “I got up in the boat.”

  “Even though Papa told you many times that you shouldn’t do that,” Kit said. “Now you see why.”

  She nodded quickly. “Yes. And then we were in the water. I was scared, Kit. It was cold.”

 
; He hadn’t recalled that fact, but now it rushed back. The icy grip of the water swirling around him as he raced to his sister and her governess.

  “Miss Sarah saved you, along with Matthew,” he said.

  “She held me up in the water,” Phoebe said solemnly. “She wouldn’t let me go under like she did.” She shifted. “Kit, is Miss Sarah hurt?”

  “No, Amelia reported that she was fine. We are very lucky that Lucas knew how to breathe air back into her lungs.” He snuggled her closer. “She’s resting now. And I think you should do the same after we’re done talking.”

  Her face crumpled, but to his surprise she didn’t argue. Apparently the day’s events had taken some of the starch from her.

  “Phoebe, just because you don’t mean for something to happen, just because it was an accident, doesn’t mean that you don’t have responsibility,” he said carefully. “I know it’s hard right now. You miss Papa. So do I.”

  “You do?” she whispered.

  He tilted his head. “Of course I do, with all my heart. And when we are sad, sometimes we don’t behave well. But we must do better, mustn’t we? We must try a little harder so our grief doesn’t make things worse.”

  She seemed to ponder that a moment and then she nodded. “Yes, Kit.”

  “If you are sad, instead of getting angry or acting badly, you come to me. We can talk about Papa. We can be sad together.”

  “And talk to Sarah,” Phoebe said, lifting her hand to play with one of his buttons.

  “Yes, and talk to Sarah,” he said with a soft sigh.

  “Can I see her now?” Phoebe asked. He heard the hesitation in her voice. The guilt.

  “You shall,” he said with a little squeeze for her. “But I need to talk to her first.”

  And it could no longer wait.

  Sarah rested her head back on the fluffy pillows, staring up at the finely carved ceiling above the comfortable bed. She was exhausted and her eyelids drooped, though she tried to stay awake. It felt wrong to sleep in Kit’s bed. Wrong to be in his bed at all, no matter how welcoming it felt.