Chapter 23 No Hope
Vincent froze at those words. “Lord Daniel…”
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“Do you hear what the maid is saying?” Daniel’s tone remained even, neither warm nor cold, yet it carried a palpable weight.
Vincent was confused but replied, “Your lady?”
A faint, knowing smile touched Daniel’s lips-a rare sight. “So Mr. Whitmore’s hearing is quite intact after all.”
A cold dread crept down Vincent’s spine. Unbidden, goosebumps rose across his skin…
Was Daniel rebuking him for disciplining Brielle on his own authority? Now that she was under Daniel’s name, the Whitmore family no longer held the right to punish her, did they?
Donna sensed the shift in the air as well. She stepped forward quickly, saying, “Lord Daniel, my father meant no disrespect. He merely acted in a moment of anger.”
She then glanced at the unconscious Brielle and adopted a concerned expression. “Father, my sister has suffered enough. Please show her mercy.”
Vincent nodded stiffly. “Lord Daniel, I acted rashly indeed. I hope you will overlook it.”
Daniel’s manner softened slightly. “What’s done is done. Should a life be lost, it would reflect poorly on both our houses. I shall deal with Brielle myself-there is no need for you to trouble yourself further.”
“Well said. Someone, take Brielle to her chamber,” Vincent ordered the servants at once.
Three guards moved forward to lift her.
Brielle stirred briefly, her consciousness hazy. Instinctively, she clutched at the sleeve of the man beside her and tried to rise. “Return my mother’s keepsakes… I will leave the Whitmore family… sever all ties…”
Daniel stilled, surprised to feel her grip on his attire.
Her voice was barely a whisper, yet he could sense the stubborn will behind it-a resilience that refused to break.
He frowned. A keepsake? What token could drive her to such desperation?
Donna moved to pry Brielle’s fingers loose, but even half-conscious, Brielle held fast to Daniel’s sleeve as though it were her last anchor. She kept murmuring, “Give back my mother’s keepsake… Return it!”
“Brielle, wake up! You are staining Daniel’s garments!” Donna urged anxiously.
But Brielle would not release her hold. She clung on with what little strength remained.
A shadow crossed Daniel’s eyes. He regarded her with distaste, but finally relented. “Very well. I will see her to her room.”
He bent and lifted Brielle into his arms. Yet even Daniel who trained regularly in swordsmanship, nearly staggered under her weight-not from heaviness, but from the dead limpness of her form.
Struggling to adjust his hold, he followed a maid to the Luminary Chamber.
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He laid Brielle upon the bed. Her face was pale as parchment, bloodless and frail. The fingers still twisted in his sleeve were white at the knuckles.
“Return my mother’s keepsake…” Brielle murmured, los in feverish dreams.
A contemplative gleam entered Daniel’s gaze. He leaned slightly closer. “What keepsake of your mother’s?”
“Give it back…” But Brielle could only repeat the plea, her mind elsewhere.
He reached out and touched her forehead. It burned with fever. Her injuries were grave.
“Owen, fetch Dr. Gordon from the manor,” Daniel commanded.
“At once.”
Looking down at Brielle upon the bed, Daniel’s brow remained furrowed. A keepsake? What trinket could be worth cutting all family ties for?
He did not leave until Bruce arrived.
Vincent had ordered a lavish meal prepared in Daniel’s honor.
In the great hall, Vincent served Daniel spiced wine and once more explained his reasons for having Brielle beaten.
Daniel did not press the matter. Instead, he inquired with measured curiosity, “I noticed Brielle spoke repeatedly of her mother’s keepsake. What is the meaning of it? If it truly belongs to her, it should be returned.”
At this, Vincent’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He offered a strained smile. “You must find this all rather strange, Lord Daniel. Her mother passed when she was young. All her mother’s belongings were laid to rest with her. I cannot fathom what has come over the girl, suddenly demanding some keepsake. Where would I procure such a thing? I can hardly have her mother’s tomb unearthed.”
Daniel nodded slowly, though he sensed there was more left unspoken.
“Pay her no mind, Lord Daniel. Ever since that illness let her scarred, she has not been herself. And now, taking her sister’s place in the marriage has altered her emper entirely. She even speaks back to me,” Vincent sighed heavily. “I fear I have failed in raising he…”
No sooner had he finished than hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Owen rushed in, face pale. “Lord Daniel-ill news! Lady Brielle will not stop coughing blood. Dr. Gordon has already told the household to prepare for her passing!”
Daniel’s expression tightened. He strode swiftly back to the Luminary Chamber.
Upon the bed, Brielle was choking on blood, the linens ained a spreading crimson. Violet knelt beside her, weeping openly.
“Daniel…” Brielle’s eyes swam with tears. She struggled push herself up, trying to crawl from the bed.
Daniel frowned and moved closer.
Brielle grasped his sleeve once more. Then another cough wracked her frame, bringing forth a fresh flow of
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blood. Tears traced lines through the pallor of her cheeks as she looked up at him, her voice thick with pain and bitterness. “Daniel… did I slaughter your kin? Why do you despise me so?”
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