She reminded herself that he was dying and forgave him his bold intrusion into her private life. He was waiting, clinging to a hope that meant so much to him. Alex made her decision.
“It is possible, your grace.” As she uttered the words, she was stunned to realize that they were true. She hadn’t bled since La Belle Illusion’s departure from York—since her marriage to Drake. She dismissed the thought as ludicrous. More than likely the irregularity was due to the stress of the past months.
Grayson was studying her face, his breathing growing more and more erratic. “My son is a difficult man … to understand.”
At the moment Alex did not want to understand him. She wanted to kill him. “Yes, he is, your grace.”
Despite Grayson’s obvious pain, a smile tugged at his lips. “And are you … difficult … as well?”
She met his gaze. “Yes, I am, your grace.”
Another smile. “Drake … has chosen … well.” He shuddered as a flash of pain claimed him, but shook his head when she moved to help him. “There is… no time.” He summoned all his strength, then looked at her calmly. “You … love my son … very much.”
It was a statement of fact and therefore did not require a response.
Alex gave one anyway. “Yes, your grace, I do.”
“Be … there … for … him.”
Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “I will.”
He nodded, then closed his eyes.
“I will send Drake in now. He’ll want to be with you,” she murmured, knowing the end was near.
“Thank … you.” It was a barely audible whisper, and Alex knew just what the words meant.
She went out into the hall and sought Drake out with her eyes. He was by her side instantly. “Is he … ?”
“He wants to see you,” was all she said, standing aside to let him pass. Drake searched her face, finding no answers to his questions, questions that would have to wait. He entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Alex leaned against the plastered wall, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself, as she sought an inner strength that she was unsure she possessed. It all seemed a terrible nightmare; surely none of it true. She had to hang on just a little longer. Once she allowed herself to fall apart, her entire world would disintegrate into fragments around her.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
Alex’s eyes flew open at the familiar voice. “Smitty.” She stared at him blankly, thinking how out of context he looked in this palatial mansion.
“What can I do to make this easier for you, my lady?” he asked gently.
Alex would not give in to the urge to cry. “I thought you were my friend.”
He winced at the coldness of her tone. “I am your friend, my lady.”
“Friends do not lie to each other.”
“Nor do they divulge another friend’s secrets,” he reminded her softly.
Alex gave a bitter laugh. “I always thought you far too cultured to belong at sea. I assume you work for Drake?”
He nodded.
She thought of the very capable way Smitty assisted Drake each day. “You are his valet, I presume?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Alex covered her eyes with her hands. “I do not believe that any of this is happening.” Hysteria bubbled up inside her again, refused to be silenced. “What am I going to do?” she whispered, half to herself. “Drake’s father is dying. I cannot go to pieces … not yet.”
Smitty ached for the broken, courageous girl who had been deceived in a most basic way and still placed her own grief second to that of others. She was every bit the unselfish, caring lady he had always known her to be.