The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

Sinjun didn’t care if she looked like a goat. She drank and drank and drank. When she didn’t want any more, she lay back, panting with the effort it had cost her.

“I can’t get up, Serena.”

“No, I can see that you are quite ill.”

“Is there a physician nearby?”

“Oh yes, but he’s old and infirm. He doesn’t visit just anyone.”

“Have him come here at once, Serena.”

“I will speak to Aunt Arleth about it, Joan.” And she left, floating out of the bedchamber in a rich silk gown of deep crimson that was so long it trailed the floor behind her like a train. Sinjun tried to call after her, but her voice came out a whisper.

“We haven’t the money to pay any doctor.”

It was Aunt Arleth. Sinjun felt light-headed now. It was difficult for her to focus on the woman. It was late afternoon, according to the clock that stood near the bed. She was thirsty again, terribly hungry, and she had to relieve herself.

“Fetch Emma or Dulcie for me.”

“Oh no, Dulcie is quite occupied with the children. Goodness, it’s so very warm in here, isn’t it? You must needs have some fresh air.”

Aunt Arleth shoved open the windows and tied back the pale gold brocade draperies. “There, that should cool your fever. Do get better, my dear girl. I will look in on you later.”

She was gone again. Sinjun was alone. The room was getting colder by the minute.

She managed to relieve herself through sheer effort of will, and stumbled back into bed. She burrowed under the covers, her teeth chattering.

The following morning, Philip slipped into the room. He ran to the bed and looked at Sinjun. She was asleep, but she was also shivering. He put his palm on her forehead and jerked it back. She was burning with fever.

He realized then that it was very cold in the room. The windows were open. Aunt Arleth, he thought. He’d known she’d come to see Sinjun, for she’d told the rest of them that she had, and that Sinjun was very nearly well. She was still lying abed because she was English and thus slothful, enjoying ordering everyone about. Aunt Arleth had meant mischief, that was clear. His mind balked at pursuing that thought.

Philip closed the windows and untied the draperies. He fetched more blankets from his own bedchamber and piled them on top of his stepmother.

“Thirsty,” Sinjun whispered.

He held her head in the crook of his elbow and put the edge of the glass to her lips. She was so weak her head lolled against his arm. He felt a shaft of fear.

“You’re not better,” he said, and Sinjun dimly heard the fear in his voice.

“No. I’m glad you’re here, Philip. You’re here . . . I’ve missed you. Help me, Philip.” Her voice trailed off and he knew that she was more unconscious than asleep this time.

Aunt Arleth had told them all to stay away from the laird’s bedchamber. She didn’t want any of them catching their stepmother’s slight cold. She’d assured them that all was well, that their stepmother didn’t want them to come see her.

It was more than a cold. Aunt Arleth had lied. Sinjun was very ill.

He stood there, staring down at her, wondering what to do.

“You disobedient little boy! Come out of here now! Do you hear me, Philip? Come here!”

Philip turned to face Aunt Arleth, who stood ramrod straight in the open doorway.

“Sinjun is very ill. You were wrong about her condition. She must have help.”

“I’ve been giving her help. Has she said anything? If so, she’s only trying to gain your sympathy, to turn you against me. You see? I’m here yet again to help her, you silly child. I don’t want you to be near her, you might sicken as well.”

“You said she was just lying about because she was lazy. How could I get sick from laziness?”

“She still has just a touch of fever, nothing much, but it is my responsibility in your father’s absence to see that you’re well taken care of. That means seeing to it that you don’t become ill.”