Roe insisted they go search for it.
They hadn’t found it and they’d gotten horribly ill on the ship returning to England, and Roe’s father found them at a hospital in Hastings.
The cramps surged through him again and Roe doubled over in pain. Even that small movement caused pain to ricochet through his weakened body. He looked over at the cot next to his. Christopher wasn’t doing well. His complexion had taken on a deathly pallor and he barely moved.
“Christopher,” Roe whispered.
His friend winced as he rolled his head on the bed sheets to face Roe. His eyes were sunken and dull. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Where the devil is my son?” a man’s voice bellowed from the corridor outside of their wing.
Roe knew that voice. He’d never before been so excited to hear his own father’s voice. “Don’t worry, Christopher, my father is here now. He will see that we get the best care. We will heal. I promise.” Roe tried to sit up so that his father could see him when he entered the room.
“Take care of Caroline,” Christopher whispered.
Roe turned to face his friend. “That won’t be necessary. My father has found us. You shall see your sister again.”
Christopher opened his mouth to speak, but Roe’s father took that moment to storm into the room.
“There you are,” he said, taking in Roe’s appearance. The duke shook his head in disapproval. He sneered as he looked around the sparse and dingy hospital room, as though even illness was beneath him. “I suppose this is what you get for going to that god-forsaken country. Well, I’m here now and I’ve made arrangements for a private train car to take you back to London. You’ll have a doctor to care for you every moment until you recover.”
“Father, you have made arrangements for both of us, have you not?” Roe motioned to Christopher’s cot. His friend had closed his eyes again and Roe couldn’t tell if he slept or not.
The Duke’s gaze skimmed over Christopher for the briefest of seconds. “Both of you?” he sneered. “Why on earth would I arrange for the care of this… Boy, who are you?”
Christopher seemed too weak to even answer, so Roe answered for him. “He is my friend. My classmate from Cambridge.”
“And what of his family? His connections? Would I know them?”
Again, Christopher could not answer and in truth Roe didn’t want to, for he knew how his father would react. “I doubt it,” he admitted.
“I am not responsible for that boy, for that merchant’s son.”
“He’s not a merchant’s son. His father is a Baron.”
The Duke gave a snort of derision. “Worse still. At least a merchant’s son would have money. Let his family care for him. Now then, can you stand or do you need assistance for that as well?” he asked.
“He has no family, we must care for him. This is all my fault,” Roe said.
“You should have thought of all of that before you went on this little holiday. I owe that boy nothing.”
“Father, please, he is my friend,” Roe begged. He was too dehydrated for tears to form, but his eyes burned nonetheless.
“He is nothing to me. Now enough.” He held up his hand and Roe knew any further arguments would be futile. If he had the strength he’d refuse to go himself, but he knew that would not work, either. “I shall go and find a nurse and get you a wheeled chair.”
Roe rolled toward Christopher. “I’ll convince him. We’ll come back for you.”
For a moment, Christopher’s eyes seem to clear and something like a smile twisted his cracked lips. “Only you, Roe, are misguided enough to believe a duke could ever give one whit for the son of a baron.”
Roe couldn’t even argue with his friend. The Duke was an ass. He cared more for propriety than for human life, more for preserving the classes than for the worth of a man. But Roe was not his father’s son and he would rise above his class. “Then I will come back for you. As soon as I’m able,
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