Forever changed by his capture at the hands of the French, Viscount Carlisle is no longer the naive, carefree idiot who left the shores of England. He has spent eight years trying to find the man who betrayed him, but his plans are thwarted by the t...
"I apologize for summoning you at this hour for nothing, doctor. I became worried she was running a fever, and she's just slept so fitfully."
"Everything looks absolutely fine, Miss Heartwood. At most she has just suffered some shock, it's normal for her memory to be a little scattered after a time of such stress. I can administer a small dose of laudanum, just to help her sleep." Sylvia could have collapsed with the way the tension finally fled her limbs. When Jane had woken up, she had refused to talk, only crying and signing 'The bad man will get me.'
When Sylvie had tried to ask her what had happened, Jane said that she could not remember, only that she was hiding from the bad man and that she was scared. She was groggy and dazed the entire time. After hours and hours of her refusing to leave her room, Sylvie had finally managed to coax her to have some dinner, after which she had fallen asleep again. She hadn't even been able to attend the funeral. Raphael had pointed out that she was sleeping for too much, suspecting perhaps that she had been drugged. The physician had thankfully disproven their suspicions upon his examination.
"Thank you, doctor, but the medicine is unnecessary. And you are certain there is nothing else I need to do aside from ensuring she gets rest?"
Who was the bad man? Thomas? Was she afraid of him? Had he tried to hurt her? Or was it someone else entirely, someone who had hurt Thomas and framed it to look like he had taken his life?
How had she gotten into the secret room? It couldn't have been a fluke, could it? Or maybe Jane had seen Thomas use the chamber and had gone to explore for herself?
"No, Miss Heartwood. I expect that there will be no adverse reactions, but feel free to send for me if you need anything."
"My thanks, doctor," she inclined her head in farewell as he gathered his case and left. She crept out of Jane's room, intending on slipping into her room right across the hall, and almost yelled as she bumped into something.
"Rafael," she sighed, her body suddenly going limp with exhaustion.
"Why are you still awake?"
That gently tendered question unraveled her completely. The emotions she had been keeping at bay let loose like water through a breaking damn, sweeping away her self-control entirely.
"Sylvie? Is everything alright with Jane?"
In response, she just twined her arms around his neck, buried her face beneath his chin, and began to cry. He stiffened under her for a split second before he shifted to accommodate her, guiding them smoothly into her room before anyone could see and draw the wrong conclusion.
"This is such a horrible breach of etiquette!" She sobbed harder. "Mrs. Pinehurst will s-sack me!"
"Sylvie, oh darling, it's alright," he crooned at her as his hand rubbed up and down her back. "I have you. I have you, darling. No one is going to sack you."
"I was so scared," she sobbed into his shirt as he pressed a kiss into her head. "I thought of all the bad things that could possibly have happened and I was so scared."
"I would never let anything have let anything happen to you or Jane," he cupped her face and locked his fierce eyes with hers. "But that doesn't matter. Jane is safe. It's over."
She nodded and let him lead her to bed and tuck her in. He gave her a glass of water, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped her nose and tears. Good heavens, she must look a fright.
She opened her mouth to thank him, but what left was: "W-will you please hold me?"
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