The glistening sun that shone through the satin curtains did little to penetrate the sickly feeling that hung over the room. It was terribly hard for him, but the Viscount still held your weak hand in his own. Nothing in Aubrey Hall had been able to distract from the distraught that festered and wedged itself deep within his heart.

The illness had a tendency to come in waves, yet this was the worst it had ever appeared. In the sore bags under your eyes and pasty features, it had left you bedridden for the previous winter months. Now that the sun rose and melted the ice in beautiful Spring strides, your sickness seemed to melt with it. Anthony’s unease did not fade though, for when everything began to turn for the better fate had a tendency to rein tragedy again.

He scratched at the space behind his ear for a moment. “They say you wish to go to the garden?” Anthony spoke softly to you with an undercurrent of burning anxiety and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. The dark eyes gazed at you for a moment before moving to the cold hand that he had cupped between his own.

It had been difficult to see his beloved in such a breakable state, but he attempted to push his fears and fast beating heart to the side in order to give you the gentle care you deserved. The bubbling illness had died down a bit and with a gentle kiss that he pressed against your forehead you finally cracked a smile. It eased his racing heart a bit.

A small roll of your eyes followed. You saw yourself as perfectly capable of visiting the garden though your husband made his worries very known about that. His thumb rubbed against the back of your hand restlessly, “It can’t be good for you to be so active during these times.” He let a breath huff out from his nostrils, dark brows furrowing as he admired your Angel-like face. Even when sickly you looked as graceful and radiant as a Spring flower.

He watched your face turn to watch the birds of the sky flutter and flap over the horizon out of the visible view through the bay window.