PBPGD

CHAPTER 115

"My lord," Edith stammered, standing up hastily to curtsy. She didn't think he'd come back so soon.

She racked her brain in panic, going over everything she said and hoping she didn't let anything slip.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

"There are illnesses that a doctor can't cure, my lord. I'm sure she'll be back to her normal self within three weeks."

"How would you know that? You're no doctor."

"I'm not," she allowed. "I'm merely a woman who has lived a longer life. Most women learn from their mothers, but Lady Camellia didn't have a mother figure to learn from. Lady Ihar is taking care of her, so there is no need to worry."

Claude glowered at Edith as she advised him, then pointed toward the door without another word. She curtsied and exited the room.

That day, he stayed glued to Lia's side. Lia woke up from her nap and strolled around the garden in a daze before going back to sleep at the usual hour.

She barely touched her dinner, save for a few spoonfuls of soup.

What could it be?

Claude was losing his mind over this strange illness. Everyone told him it was nothing, that it would pass by, but he couldn't just watch Lia suffer like this.

If she was vomiting for no particular reason and spending half the day sleeping, it meant there was definitely something wrong with her body. That night, he lay next to her in bed, caressing her sunken cheeks over and over again.

He wished her illness was something he could see, a wound or a gash that he could dress. Then he could visibly witness her getting better. But an illness like this, where he couldn't tell where it began and ended, made him feel absolutely powerless.

Camellia's the one feeling most insecure and anxious, I'm sure. I can't imagine what she's going through. I need to get the house doctor here tomorrow.

He turned toward Lia, closing his eyes as he thought of Edith and her curious actions over the past few days. She was worried as much as anyone else for Camellia, but her worry was laced with overwhelming joy.

This was what confused him. He'd briefly entertained the thought of an ulterior motive, but Edith was Jasmine's trusted maid. To doubt her meant he was doubting his own mother.

Why? Why is she so happy that Camellia is sick?

Claude asked himself over and over without arriving at a clear answer. Instead, a graver thought struck him.

What if we can't carry out the ceremony as planned?

He bit his lip, staring at his lover fast asleep. He leaned forward, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. He would call the doctor first thing in the morning, even if Jasmine and Edith tried to stop him.

He couldn't stand by any longer and watch this odd situation unfurl. Nodding to himself, Claude slipped under the covers and pulled Lia toward him.

She always loved his soapy scent so much that even when she was asleep, she would bury her nose into his chest and take a deep breath.

I should get the lavender replanted near her window so that she can think of me even when I'm not here.

****

Del Casa was overflowing with carriages, cars, and visitors. The Ihar Manor's attendants threw themselves into the final preparations for the wedding, decorating the chapel and setting up canopies all around the garden.