“It’s no good,” Sudhakar moaned. “She cannot swallow. No, I am doomed to watch both of my children die. My Johore died in pain. At least little Gabrielle will go in peace.”

Quill ignored him. He was trying to think. Finally he rang the bell and demanded a spoon from Codswallop. When he had the spoon, he held Gabby’s head up and spooned water into her mouth. It ran out the side. He tried again, and again, and again, until her night rail was drenched.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tired eyes met his. “It’s no use,” Sudhakar said gently. “She cannot swallow.”

“No!” Quill bellowed.

“I felt the same way when Johore worsened, just before he died,” Sudhakar said. “We were isolated—no one in the village would even come to the door because of the cholera. But Gabrielle came. She came down from the big house, and she brought me English medicine. She cared more for Johore than for her own safety.”

Quill looked at his drenched wife. He put a hand on her cheek. “She would do that,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” Sudhakar agreed. “She will do anything for the people she loves. And she loves you, Viscount Dewland. You are a lucky man. She loved you too much to see you in pain. And I believe that she would not begrudge what has happened.”

“You don’t know,” Quill said hoarsely. “The things I said—”

The hand on his shoulder tightened. “I imagine you quarreled and Gabrielle took the medicine when she was in a temper. She always had a temper to match her heart, that one. But she loved you, and she would be happy to know that your headaches are cured. For you are cured, aren’t you?”

Quill couldn’t even look up; his vision was blurred by tears. “What does it matter?” he said hoarsely. “Without Gabby …”

The hand on his shoulder disappeared. “I will not stay to see her die. I have served my time by the bedside of a dying child. I am afraid that it is your karma this time, my lord.”

Quill stood up. His throat was tight, but he forced the words. “Are you certain, absolutely certain, that there is nothing you can do?”

“I am certain. My only suggestion would be that you continue to try to give her water,” Sudhakar said. “Perhaps a drop will enter her throat. Perhaps that drop will save her. But it is more likely that nothing can save her.”

Quill gritted his teeth. There was nothing to be earned by slaying an elderly Indian gentleman, after all.

He bowed. “I will write to you when Gabby wakes up,” Quill said.

Sudhakar bowed as well, and his voice was kind. “I will await your missive.”