Starlight (The Christies) by Carrie Lofty

Author:Carrie Lofty [Lofty, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Published: 2012-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Alex paid the cabbie and entered through the front door, mindful of possibly waking Edmund. There, he finally allowed his mask to slip. No longer the mill master, he was simply a man—an exhausted man whose future was only as certain as his next breath.

Stopping in the foyer, he yanked off his ascot and prepared for what was sure to be an impossible discussion with Polly.

Agnes Doward met him there first.

“Mr. Christie, sir, come with me. Please.”

He was about to protest. He reeked of smoke and needed food. But her pinched expression spoke to him on an elemental level.

Edmund.

He followed her down the hall. The panic that clawed up his chest burned like the flames that had consumed Winchester Fabrics. Christie Textiles had been spared. And yet he’d come that close to losing everything. Again.

As they rounded the corner into Edmund’s nursery, his panic intensified and lodged much closer to his heart, where thoughts of his son nestled. He shoved his fingers through his hair, then drilled both fists into his trouser pockets. It was all he could do to rein in his temper and keep from bellowing questions.

Just inside the nursery, he slammed to a halt. Even gripping the door frame wasn’t enough to abate his visceral shock.

Polly sat in the rocking chair, with Edmund in her arms.

“What are you doing?”

She looked from him to Edmund, eyes wide. Maybe he deserved her startled expression because his question had been a full-fledged shout.

But Polly Gowan was rarely powerless for long. Her back pulled straight and tight. “Agnes needed a break. She’s been up with him all night.”

“That’s her job.”

“Would you like to feel his forehead? Then maybe you’ll realize what a trial she’s endured.”

The certainty in her voice said he wouldn’t like what he found. Sure enough, Edmund’s skin burned with fever. The world dropped out from below his feet.

“Jesus. He’s ill?”

“Tell him, Agnes.”

“Since just after you left, sir. He was fussy and wouldn’t take a bottle.”

Alex knelt before the rocking chair. He touched his son’s brow. The staggering pounding in his chest would not be quiet. “I should’ve been here. Why didn’t you send word, woman?”

The color drained from Mrs. Doward’s face.

But it only flushed brighter along Polly’s broad cheekbones. “How would she have managed that, you dunce? Quit acting a bully, blaming her. He was safe and cared for as well as could be. She deserves your thanks, not your temper. Do you want to run her off after such a short time in your employ? I’d like to see you manage without her. Agnes, dear, what have you done for the boy?”

After a pause, the woman straightened her spine. “The same as I would for any fevered wee child. Cool cloths to his forehead. Bathing him with tepid water. I made broth. Sometimes lighter liquids are easier on their upset tummies than milk. He’s kept it down with no trouble.” She met Alex’s eyes with much firmer resolve. “You hired me because of my experience, raising four babes of my own.

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