Charlie was exhausted.

And yet, no matter how much she was needled to rest by Greyson's mother and sister- Charlie rolled her eyes at that, her own ignorance and jealousy of Lady Georgianna bringing an unwelcome heat to her cheeks - Charlie found that she could not.

The past two days had left her shaken, and Charlie was sure that if she left Greysons's side for but a moment, the fever would sink its claws deeper into the earl's flesh and never release him.

It would take him away from her.

The days had passed in a jumble, but one seemed ingrained on her mind. That evening in the stables seemed just like yesterday.

It haunted her.

That night, as Greyson had bled profusely, his skin ashen, Charlie had lifted her head from his chest only to find Thorne, Greyson's friend, by her side. She didn't object when Thorne gently pushed her off Greyson's chest, his own hand covering Greyson's side, trying his best to staunch the flow of blood.

Charlie had watched, numb, her body weak from her tears, her throat scratchy and hoarse as it dragged air slowly back into her lungs.

"Are you alright, Charlie?"

Thorne's voice was deep and abrupt, the force of it bringing Charlie's eyes to his. She must have nodded for Thorne's attention returned to Greyson, his eyes grim.

Thorne had issued orders like a sergeant as his hazel eyes took in Charlie's undressed state. Calling to Williams, Thorne urged him to grab a blanket. The stable master had done the lord's bidding, covering her with the scratchy wool while saying prayers beneath his breath.

Charlie had barely noticed the warmth of the cloth about her shoulders, her eyes trained to Greyson's still form as tears blurred her vision. She cursed herself for putting Greyson in a position where he had been hurt. It had been her stubbornness at fault.

Thorne had half-lifted, half-carried Greyson inside commanding the awaiting servants to ring for the doctor.

Charlie vaguely noticed Greyson's mother and Lady Georgianna standing sentinel in the doorway to the manor, both wrapped in their thin nightgowns as they turned, shuffling behind Thorne and Charlie. Their questions peppered Charlie's back, but she left them unanswered, guilt and shock warring equally within her.

She felt numb, wondering if she had imagined the whole thing, for surely nothing like this could happen to the earl. He was untouchable.

Charlie had finally snapped from her panic as Thorne settled Greyson onto his bed, the massive bedchamber decorated in dark blues and accents of light grey.

Charlie shook off the memories, squeezing Greyson's hand in her left while her right touched the cool skin of his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come on, Greyson," she whispered, bringing their interlocked hands to her cheek. "Wake up."

When he didn't stir, Charlie breathed out a sigh, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand absently. At least the doctor had been correct in this, that the fever wouldn't last long. Charlie snorted, rolling her eyes as she thought about the quack of a doctor.

Roberts had shuffled in almost a full hour after the attack that evening, his black bag clutched in his one hand as he clucked, coming to a stop next to Greyson's unconscious form. He had looked about the room, his gaze falling on Lady Marianne by the head of the bed. His light eyes flickered over Lady Georgianna, briefly stopping on her left, ruined cheek, before clearing his throat and glancing at Thorne. Greyson's friend took a position catty corner from the ladies, hovering beside the doctor as his hazel eyes scanned the doctor's bag and its assortment of tools and instruments.

Roberts' eyes then touched on Charlie.

She had only the blanket wrapped beneath her arms and around her front, clutching it protectively against her chest. Charlie paid the doctor little mind, her throat working as she watched the rise and fall of Greyson's chest.

Roberts had sniffed at her, the sound a huff of disdain. He didn't think well of Charlie's presence in the earl's chambers. 

Charlie didn't much care. Her eyes didn't leave Greyson as she asked, "Are you going to help him or stare uselessly at us like bugs under your microscope?"

Thorne had snorted a chuckle, before it choked off. Charlie turned towards Lady Georgianna, noticing the quelling glance she shifted in Thorne's direction that had him blushing. Then his own chin came up, one brow raised imperiously.

Odd, she had thought. It was cast to the back of her mind as Doctor Roberts settled next to Greyson, inspecting the knife wound.

He hummed beneath his breath at intervals as he probed Greyson's side with his blunt fingertips. Gold-rimmed spectacles tottered on the end of his nose as his beady, blue eyes squinted.

"You might need to hold him down," Roberts said then, his gaze falling to Thorne at his left shoulder. He grasped the neck of a brown liquor bottle, holding it over Greyson's side. "This will sting a bit, and I don't want to tear open the gash further if he moves about."

Thorne complied and when Greyson came awake suddenly, a howl of pain on his lips, Charlie almost pushed the man's hands from him. Thorne must have seen how close she was to losing her patience, for his eyes met hers across the room. Something in them pleaded with her to stay put. More willing to trust Thorne, she gave an imperceptible nod.

But she knew her promise would be null and void if the man didn't hurry on and get to it. At this rate, Greyson would bleed out entirely.

Bloody incompetent, ingrate, Charlie cursed.

"Now," Roberts said, sitting back and turning to his bag to pull out a needle and thread, "I need to stitch the wound."

His eyes flitted past Charlie, his lip curled, as he looked to Greyson's mother who had her hand on Greyson's forehead, pushing locks of his hair back. He bypassed Lady Georgianna as he had Charlie moments before. "If you ladies have weak stomachs, I suggest leaving the room. I can only handle one crisis at a time, and a fainting spell would only distract me from my work."

Charlie's temper, fueled by her worry for Greyson, sparked. She hadn't survived an attack that evening or watched a good man stabbed in the bloody stomach only for her to be chastised by this heavy handed fool.

Unfortunately, Thorne stepped in once more, clearing his throat, and Charlie glared mutinously back at him. One more pass was all she could handle.

Roberts must have noticed her anger, however, for he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes before turning to Lady Marianne. "I beg you to consider removing...certain personages from the sick room. I must insist on only the most hardy of constitutions."

Charlie bristled, ready to launch herself at the man. Let's see him fight off an attacker with a pitchfork and nearly strangled!

Lady Marianne, however, beat her to the punch. She moved from her position by her son to face Roberts, her hands on her hips and looking as regal as a queen despite the thin robe tied at her waist. "This lady is a good friend of the earl's and as such deserves the upmost respect. Now, are you going to heal my son or do I need to find the services of another more competent and who knows his place?"

The man had the good grace to blush even though he cast one last disparaging glance at Charlie's hair and her current undressed state before he set to work. It could have been minutes or hours but eventually the man sat back, his forefinger sliding his spectacles up the bridge of his nose one last time as he clipped the final thread.

A series of fine stitches marred Greyson's skin. A cloth was wrapped about his torso and Roberts sat back, glancing at his surrounding party.

"The earl is quite lucky it was a simple knife wound instead of a pistol shot." Lady Marianne's gasp went unheard at the succinct way Roberts mentioned a worse outcome to the already nerve-wracking wound. Charlie stared at him open-mouthed. Perhaps it wouldn't have reached the pinnacle it had if Roberts had stopped his unsympathetic speech.

But he didn't.

"He has a much better chance of healing without the significant risk of infection. And the fever - if there is one - should pass relatively quickly as well. Quite lucky, indeed."

Wiping his brow with his sleeve, Roberts failed to notice the quietness that had overtaken the bedchamber, busy gathering his bits of odds and ends as he lumbered to his feet.

Quite lucky? Charlie thought, aghast. Had the man just said Greyson had been quite lucky to be stabbed rather than shot?

Charlie was the first to recover. She kept her tone deceptively light as she imagined walking up to the doctor and causing him physical harm. "What exactly are your qualifications for practicing medicine?"

Roberts glanced to Charlie briefly, managing hardly better at masking his disgust of her appearance.

"I have decades of experience, in fact," he said with a sniff. "My father was a doctor before me and my grandfather a doctor before him. We have all served most faithfully the family of the earl of Claymore. Why do you ask?"

Charlie stalked to the bed, her cheeks hot as she sputtered, "I simply assumed you studied at the school of quackery with a specialization in a most unpleasant bedside manner, for it was quite good of you to call the earl lucky to be stabbed!" Her voice rose to a shriek at the end, the day's events wearing her down.

She wanted to go back to earlier in the evening when she was in Greyson's arms - when his eyes were alive and snapping, his voice whispering in her ear. Or, better yet, Charlie simply wanted to hold him, here and now, without having an audience as she crumbled.

Roberts straightened, his face aflame as he turned to Lady Marianne. "I simply cannot work under these conditions. To let someone of...indeterminate gender and lineage -"

Charlie gasped, her knuckles tight on her blanket.

" - to cast aspersions on my family name and my study of medical practice is absurd! Furthermore -"

"Out." The quiet voice startled them all into silence. Charlie had turned her head to find Lady Georgianna, her chin lifted high with an elegance and grace that bowled Charlie over. How the devil did she manage to keep her coiffure perfect and her bearing militant when she was no more properly attired than Charlie?

And yet, Georgianna did just that. Her manner soft-spoken though no less abrupt or commanding for it - or perhaps because of it.

"You are dismissed, Roberts. Good luck finding another family willing to take on your services after I have thoroughly disclosed your most unprofessional manner."

Charlie liked her immensely.

Roberts sputtered, outraged at the women who had turned against him. His eyes beseeched Lady Marianne. "Madame, are you going to allow this woman..." He stared directly at the burned skin of Georgianna's skin, making Charlie gasp. Her hands tightened into fists.

This time it was Thorne who stepped in. His hand thunked upon the doctor's shoulder, and Charlie watched as the man stumbled backward from the sudden pressure. The good-natured Thorne had lost all traces of his easy smile, his eyes now gleaming hard chips of blue and green and brown. His jaw was clenched and he was rigid in his stance, his bearing fitting the most aristocratic of gentleman. It was as if another man entirely had taken over Thorne's body.

This was a man who went unnoticed and unchecked in the background, underestimated, until he showed himself as the true predator he was.

"You heard the lady." Thorne forcefully led Roberts to the door, the doctor complaining along the way about being treated so abominably followed by a low whine that he hadn't collected his things.

Georgianna, with slow, measured strides, walked to the other side of Greyson's bed, gathered the scattered remnants of the doctor's tools before she made her way briskly to the bedchamber door and unceremoniously tossed the entire bundle into the hallway.

"Pompous windbag," Georgianna had murmured.

She had turned to Charlie then. "I can see why my brother is in knots over you. Do you go by Charlie, was it?"

Charlie stood in shock. The first being that Greyson had even mentioned Charlie, let alone would be "in knots" over her. And the second? The earl was her brother?

She didn't have time to feel foolish as she nodded, "Charlotte."

Lady Marianne had come to her other side then, her hand gentle on Charlie's bare shoulder. "Charlotte it is, then. Let's get you dressed."

Charlie was reluctant to leave Greyson's, but the earl's mother and sister were not ones to be waylaid. Especially as Charlie realized she was attired in nothing more than the binding about her breasts, a pair of trousers now dotted in Greyson's blood and a scratchy cloth clutched in her grip.

Lady Georgianna had lent her a gown. The lady was much taller than Charlie, however, and she had to bunch the delicate green fabric in her fists when she walked for fear she would fall flat on her face.

They had accepted the revealing of her gender with nary a touch of surprise, and Charlie wondered if everyone had, in fact, seen her through her ruse to begin with. It was with ease that Charlie found herself working alongside the two women throughout the night. No one questioned why Charlie hovered over Greyson, whispering words of encouragement, or protested at changing his sheets as his bare torso was revealed, his body being moved this way and that. Nor seen hesitant when Charlie was the one to cradle Greyson's head in her lap as she desperately tried to force feed the stubborn man a few drops of laudanum for the pain.

They had all accepted her into their circle - Marianne, Georgianna and Thorne - and it left her feeling slightly off-balance. At any moment, Charlie wouldn't be surprised if she came unhinged.

So this was what it was like to have a family? The thought brought pricks to Charlie's eyes and she cursed how easily and how often it seemed she had turned into a watering pot this week.

The fever had finally broken last evening after two days, however, and Charlie was grateful for it.

Now, if only he would wake up.

Charlie tightened her grip on Greyson's hand and he shifted, mumbling incoherently. Charlie straightened from her spot, hoping Greyson would open his eyes. He merely turned his head the other direction before he went silent once more. Charlie sighed, pressing her forehead to their clasped hands.

"Do you care for him?"

The soft voice startled Charlie and she dropped Greyson's hand as if it were a hot poker. Lady Georgianna stood in the doorway to the bedchamber, her arms clasped in front of her. She had changed into a yellow morning gown and she looked like a buttercup. Her hair was in loose curls today, left tumbling down her back while the low collared gown had ruffles around its scoop neck and along the bottom of her sleeves.

She looked as if she had gotten a good evening's rest when Charlie knew that wasn't the case. Lady Georgianna had left Greyson's side as little as she had herself.

Charlie looked back to Greyson and she couldn't stop her hand from going to his forehead, making sure the fever had not come back.

Lud, was this what it was like to care for him? To wish to protect him?

The words spilled from her like a whispered confession. "I care for him. And it was my fault he lies where he is now."

Tears burned her eyes and she blinked rapidly, drawing her hand back and settling them in her lap.

"Did you make my brother come to your defense? Did you ask to be attacked?" Georgianna swept into Charlie's line of sight and she turned, facing Charlie. "Were you the one who slid the knife into his stomach?"

Charlie swallowed through the tightness of her throat. "He was protecting me. He's always protecting me. He seems to have this misguided notion that I need saving..."

Her head shook, a lock of her shorn hair whipping her cheeks.

"Greyson had known the truth of me all this time. My disguise was in smithereens, and he had urged me to use a guest room. After all, there was no need to continue sleeping in the stables. To act the lad. But then your brother had to open his big mouth, and I got angry and told him like hell I would rely on his goodwill. I went off, half-cocked, cursing his overbearing arse to perdition..."

A chuckle filled the room and Charlie looked to Georgianna, eyes wide.

"I hardly think the situation is amusing, Georgianna."

She smiled, the burns around her mouth tightening. "You are good for my brother, I think."

"How do you reckon?" Charlie asked, wondering if Georgianna was a bit touched in the head.

"He smiles now."

Georgianna said it simply as if Charlie should understand the meaning behind the words. When Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion, Georgianna swallowed, her eyes falling onto her brother. "Ever since the fire..." She cleared her throat, meeting Charlie's eyes. "He blames himself for it. He had a hard time after father passed. Spent his nights drinking and gambling. It wasn't like him."

Her eyes dropped to her hands and they twisted together before her.

"Greyson was out that night when this happened," she gestured to the left side of her face where the mottled skin was varying shades of red. "He was with Vincent...er, Thorne. His friend."

Charlie nodded, and Georgianna took a deep breath, her knuckles white.

"The fire started in the room next to mine, and by the time I awoke, smoke was everywhere and the fire had spread so fast..." Her eyes came to Charlie, but they were glazed over, as if she were reliving the horrors of that night. "A beam broke on the other side of the door, locking me in. The flames...were everywhere. And then they were on my clothes and on my hair..."

She broke off, her hand swiping at a stray tear. Georgianna cleared her throat, meeting Charlie's eyes.

"I don't blame him, of course. No one could have predicted the fire. And everyone's entitled to dealing with death or destruction or...pain in any way they wish." She laughed bitterly. "I hid myself away for years, hiding the left side of my face like it was some sort of disease."

Charlie swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened as she looked from Georgianna, back to Greyson. No wonder he was so protective. That he had allowed her disguise while he watched over her every step of the way.

She snorted a laugh, thinking of how Greyson had handled her tale of the robbery. She smiled, knowing it must have been quite hard, indeed, for him to hide his attraction with Charlie's disguise in full play.

The smile slid from her face, however, wondering if she had brought all these trials upon Greyson. Was someone after him because of her? Was it her uncle behind everything that had happened?

Who had attacked her?

The questions piled up and Charlie made a mental note to head out to the stables, to try to remember everything that was said and had happened. She had to find out who was causing Greyson harm, and how she fit into it. Because the man had been after her.

Now that she thought about it, her attacker's words came thundering back.

Be a good girl and no harm will come to you.

He, whoever he was, had seen through her disguise, had somehow known who she was.

Would Uncle Henry be that clever?