Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 309: Nowhere To Run

Lydia was about to argue, but Alistair stopped her and pulled her behind him. "Let it go, Lydia."

So the three of them left on foot, with no carriage and no display.

Behind them, the gates slammed shut, heavy and final.

Lydia glared back at them, then turned to Alistair, her voice trembling and pitiful. "Where do we go now?"

He said, "We'll find somewhere to stay for the night first. Then we'll arrange a carriage back to Rivenshire."

Lydia pressed her lips together. "Can we... stay near the guest house?"

He raised a brow. "Why?"

She had her own reason. She wanted to keep watch. If the royal envoy arrived with the decree, she wanted to be there first to receive the title.

But what she said was, "I just thought... after all these years, maybe you won't want to cut ties completely. If Elspeth regrets this, you'll be close enough to know."

Alistair squeezed her hand. "You're too kind, Lydia."

He couldn't very well stay at some common inn. That wouldn't suit a marquess.

There was an expensive tavern nearby, but at least it matched his status.

They took two rooms there, one for Alistair, and one for Lydia and Nina.

Despite the pain spreading through her from the poison, Lydia forced herself to sit by the window. She had chosen this room because from there she could see the gates of the guest house.

If the decree arrived, she would know at once.

She waited and waited, until her vision blurred and her body could no longer hold up.

At last her head dropped, and she collapsed unconscious.

Frightened, Nina ran to find Alistair.

He called for a doctor, who examined Lydia but found nothing.

Alistair pressed him in desperation. "If you can save her, I'll pay whatever you ask."

The doctor looked uneasy. "Marquess, I truly want to help. But I can't even tell what's wrong with her, much less how to treat it."

Still, he offered a suggestion. "I've heard Doctor Dray is in Vanelle. Why not seek him out?"

Alistair paused. "Doctor Dray?"

The doctor nodded. "I hear he's a close friend of the Duke of Duskmoor. Not long ago, the duke asked him out of retirement. Wasn't your wife the duke's aunt? If you ask, I think he might agree."

Alistair felt torn.

He had just divorced Elspeth. Going back to beg her family for help would be humiliating.

But Lydia's life was at stake. She had always loved him, and now she was dying because of him.

Could he really do nothing just to protect his pride?

Nina's crying came through the wall.

At last, his conscience won. At daybreak, he got up and went to Duskmoor Manor.

But instead of being shown to a study or reception room, he was taken somewhere that left him stunned—a narrow, plainly furnished kitchen.

Cassian himself sat in his wheelchair before a chopping board, calmly slicing pork.

The same hands that wielded swords and handled state papers held the knife with practiced ease. Each cut was smooth and exact. The slices fell into neat order.

Alistair stood in the doorway staring, unsure whether to step in or announce himself.

Without looking up, Cassian said flatly, "What do you want?"

Startled out of his daze, Alistair hurried forward and bowed deeply. "Your Grace, Lydia is gravely ill. The doctor says only your friend, Doctor Dray, may be able to save her. Please show mercy. Lydia lost her husband so young, and Nina still needs her mother."

Cassian kept chopping. The knife tapped softly against the board.

He didn't look up. His voice was cold. "Ask my aunt first."

Alistair's nerves began to fray. "But... your friend is only that, a friend. If you speak, Doctor Dray can come at once. There's no need to trouble Elspeth..."

He sighed and pressed on in a pleading voice. "Lydia has already suffered so much. She lost her husband, and now she's ill. Nina is only a child. Please, Your Grace..."

A heavy clang on the chopping board cut him off.

Cassian finally lifted his head.

The duke's eyes were dark and dangerous. "I have no connection to your cousin. Why should I care whether she suffers? The world is full of people with hard lives. Do you expect me to pity every one of them?"

He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "And don't forget, Marquess. Lydia has upset my aunt enough times that I remember every one."