The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers

Chapter Twenty-Two

“The duke has a fever?” Jenny set down her quill and placed the rock she had been observing on the paper to keep some weight on it.

“Yes, Your Grace. It began last night but has grown serious,” Ramsay responded.

She swallowed. “And why have you not called the physician?”

“His Grace is refusing.”

She gathered her skirts and walked briskly past the valet. “Call the physician.” The household was busier than usual but she could not tell if it was Nicholas’s illness. He was shaking beneath his bed covers when she entered the room. The curtains were closed and the room was dark. This was the first time she had ever been in his bedchamber.

“Nicholas?” She approached his bed. He did not respond. From where she stood, she could hear his teeth clattering. She rounded the bed to kneel in front of him. “Nicholas, can you hear me?”

His eyes were closed and his skin was pale and clammy. The fever looked as though it was more serious than what Ramsay had told her. His forehead was like a furnace.

“Good heavens, Nicholas,” she muttered to herself as she gained her feet and walked to the bell pull. Before she could pull it, Ramsay appeared in the open doorway.

“I have sent for the physician, Your Grace.”

“Good. Ask Mrs. Wells if there is any willow bark tea in the house and get me some cold water and towels.”

She’d had her fair share of fevers when she was a child and the way they had been brought down was by cooling the body. Jenny opened the curtains before moving to draw the heavy duvet down his shivering body.

When she reached his waist, she realized he was not wearing anything underneath and left the covers at his midriff. “I don’t know what caused your fever but we will take care of it,” she reassured him, brushing his dark hair from his brow.

Ramsay returned with some water in a large porcelain bowl and some towels. Jenny sat down on the bed beside him and soaked a towel. He groaned when she touched the cold cloth to his skin.

“There is no willow bark in the house but some is being procured as we speak,” Ramsay said. “I shall have the tea made once it is here.”

“Do you know what could be the cause of this?” she asked him and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding her gaze. “You know something. Tell me.”

“Well…Your Grace…I have no knowledge of medicine and I might be wrong but—”

“Get on with it,” she urged, impatient. Nicholas was not looking well and her alarm was growing.

“He has been having ice baths for weeks now.”

Her hand froze. She gave the valet a puzzled look. “Ice baths?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I saw to it myself. A tub will be filled with cold water and then a bucket of ice will be added and the duke will sit in it for several minutes.”

“I know what an ice bath is. What I do not know is why.” Ramsay’s face colored and he began to scratch the back of his head.

Nicholas groaned again, lifting his hand to push the damp cloth away from his forehead. “No, Nicholas,” she said softly, “this is good for you. It will make you feel better.” He must have heard her because he calmed down.

“Why was the duke having ice baths?” She resumed her interrogation of the valet.

“I fear I am not at liberty to divulge. Forgive me, Your Grace.”

Jenny’s breath hissed out from between her clenched teeth. Now was not the time for him to be keeping things from her. “Ramsay,” her tone was stern and her voice low, “I do not care if he asked you to keep it a secret. You will tell me why. Knowing the cause might help us treat him.”

“All right…” He turned away from her. “The duke used the ice baths to rid himself of…”

Jenny was tempted to throw the towel in her hand at him but she waited with great patience. “To rid himself of his physical needs,” he finished.

Her shoulders slumped. She did not know he had done it to quench his desire. “Is that not dangerous?”

“I do not know, Your Grace. I do not know if it is the cause of his fever.”

“How far is the physician’s office from here?”

“It is not very far and he should arrive soon. I will go and check.”

She nodded. “If that bath is the cause of your fever, Nicholas, you are going to be in a lot of trouble,” she said when she was alone with him. “Why would you harm yourself in such a manner?”

The physician did not arrive until an hour later and he immediately began to examine Nicholas, asking questions. Jenny was compelled to tell him about the ice bath. “Do you think it could be the cause?” she asked when his expression turned grave.

“It could be. Subjecting the body to temperatures like that can be harmful.”

“What do we do about this?”

“Allow the fever to run its course. I will prescribe some laudanum for him. Keep an eye on him and I shall return in the evening.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Do not worry too much, Your Grace,” he reassured before leaving.

She sat in the chair that Ramsay had placed beside Nicholas’s bed and stared at him. The last time she had seen him ill had been after his mother’s death when he was recovering from the injuries he had sustained. His father had not believed he would recover but Jenny had visited him every day and sat with him for hours, reading to him.

Reading to him now might take her mind off her growing fears. She went to her bedchamber and retrieved John Skelton’s collection of poems that Phineas had given her. She read several poems around until her eyes grew heavy.

“No!”

Jenny abruptly sat up, nearly falling off her chair. She blinked the sleep from her eyes as she searched for the source of the noise. Nicholas was thrashing on the bed, flailing his arms about.

“No!” he shouted, sitting up. “Don’t leave me.”

Jenny climbed onto the bed and pushed him down onto the bed. His heavy arm swung in the air, hitting her shoulder and causing her to lose her balance. Ramsay ran into the room to help her. He pinned his arms at his sides and held him there.

“Please,” Nicholas muttered, seeming to calm down.

“We need to call the physician back,” she said.

“I will send for him again,” Ramsay said, looking at Nicholas with grave concern. “The fever has gotten worse.”

It was already evening and several doses of laudanum had been administered to him. The fever should be coming down but it was not.

“Mother,” he moaned and Jenny understood he was having a nightmare. She sat beside him and gathered him close, her heart aching for him.

“I’m sorry, Nicky,” she whispered, rocking them back and forth. “It is going to be well. You are going to be well.”

He never spoke of his mother. Not even her name. She had been the light of his life. He shuddered in her arms.

“I was already on my way here when Ramsay met me,” the physician, Dr. Jenson, said on entry.

Jenny released Nicholas and climbed down from the bed. “He was thrashing,” she explained.

Dr. Jenson’s brows furrowed and he sighed. “The fever is not going down. Please continue to cool him. We need the fever to go down.”

“We will do that.” She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “Is there anything else we need to do?”

He shook his head. “I will return in the morning.”

This was going to be a long night and Jenny did not want to face it alone. Being strong for Nicholas was important but she could use some company. “Ramsay,” she called.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Send someone to get the dowager duchess.”

* * *

“Where is he?” came the dowager’s voice and Jenny sat up. “What happened?” she demanded when she entered, her eyes wide with worry.

“He has a fever,” Jenny answered.

A haunted expression passed over her features. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Her heart clenched painfully in her chest.

“His father died of a fever.” She stepped toward him, peering. He had been calm for a while now, too calm, in fact. “It started small but quickly became something else. He lost his senses.”

Jenny did not want to hear this. “Nicholas does not have the same fever.”

“We cannot be certain.”

“I refuse to believe it.”

The dowager studied Jenny for a moment. “How long have you been in this room caring for him?”

“The entire day,” she murmured.

“And I take it you have not eaten a bite in all that time.” When Jenny neither agreed nor disputed, she added, “You should eat and rest. I will watch him.”

“I don’t need to—”

“I will not have you falling sick because of your stubbornness. Go.” Her tone brokered no dissent.

Besides, Jenny was too distraught and exhausted to argue. She went to her bedchamber and flopped onto the bed, feeling helpless. What the dowager had said about the fever that had killed Nicholas’s father frightened her. She couldn’t lose Nicholas now. This is not fair.

A knock sounded at the door. “It is Sarah, You Grace. May I come in?”

“Yes,” she called.

Her lady’s maid walked in with a tray. There was a full meal on the tray but Jenny was only able to stomach some soup and a bit of bread. “You must eat more,” Sarah urged.

“I am not hungry. I need a nap.”

“You need sleep.” She removed the pillows that Jenny did not need and prepared the bed for her.

A nap was all Jenny intended to have but she did not wake until several hours later when the fingers of dawn were streaking the dark sky with colors. The dowager was asleep in the chair by Nicholas’s bed while he lay still. She went to him, sitting down beside him and touching his forehead.

His body was still very hot. She brought the bowl of water to her side from the dowager’s and began to cool him. Where he winced before, now he remained completely calm. This terrified her but she carried on with her task. “This is the scariest part,” the dowager said.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Jenny said.

“I was. This is the scariest part,” she replied. “The life is stolen from them when they go completely still. It happened to his father and his father's father, my husband.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jenny took his hand and clasped it in both of hers, squeezing.

“I am telling you so you can prepare for the worst.” The dowager released a heavy sigh.

Jenny froze. Then her eyes snapped up at the woman on the other side of the bed. “What?” Her voice was brittle. “Why would you think of that?”

“I have seen this before and I want you to be strong.”

“I am strong enough,” Jenny snapped, shaking with anger. “If you do not care because you have Ernest to continue to the Seaton line for you, I do because Nicholas is my husband and I care for him.”

“He is my grandson and I care for him, too. I want you to understand a possible reality.”

“Don’t you dare!” Jenny’s voice shook. “Nicholas is not going to die. He will make a full recovery and I would like it if you leave me alone with him now.”

She needed someone to support her and the dowager had brought her this. Jenny regretted calling her. Nicholas shuddered just then and his eyelids began to flutter.