Page 24 of A Sight to Behold
“I’m afraid it’s not about me but my master.” The butler led the way into the great hall. Stained glass windows with pointy arched frames adorned the high-walled entrance.
“There you are!” Lady Langley came down the stairs, her sky-blue shawl billowing behind her. “Oh, how good that you are here now.”
“Whatever is the matter, my lady?” Nick gripped the doctor’s bag he’d brought. Tension built in his body for something was amiss indeed. And he couldn’t afford anything but a perfectly smooth recovery for his most influential patient.
The young Lady Langley led the way up the stairs to the earl’s private chamber. Already at the top of the stairs, Nick heard thelow groaning and moans. The door was open, and he stepped into the enormous bedchamber. To his astonishment, the earl was in bed. Last time, after the same surgery, he was sitting in his armchair by the fire reading the newspaper. This, however, was not good.
A woman in a white bonnet and apron removed a compress from the earl’s forehead and wrung it into a small porcelain bowl.
“Thank you, Daisy,” Lady Langley said, dismissing the maid.
Nick swallowed. He couldn’t saygood morningorgood daybecause it wasn’t one. “My lord, I am here.” Nick walked around the bed to the side on which the earl lay, his eyes pinched, and his angular features drowned in wrinkles of reddened skin. Lady Langley sat on the edge of the other bed after the maid had shut the door upon her exit.
Nick snapped the clasp of his bag open and took out some clean muslin and some sage oil. Then he rubbed the oil on his hands and wiped them off before touching the earl’s reddened forehead.
The earl moaned.
When Nick put a hand on his temple, the man winced. This was not good. His forehead felt hot and the skin under his eyebrow looked stretched and shiny.
“I’m afraid that there is a small infection,” Nick said as calmly as he could in spite of the tension he felt pressing against his insides.
“Small?” The earl yelled, pushing the covers off. “I’ve had a small infection before, Doctor, this is not small.”
So much about his streak of a few hundred surgeries and absolutely zero infections.
Nick swallowed. An infection could be benign and pass in a few days. Or it could worsen, and the earl might lose his eye, new lens or not. And if his discomfort became new fodder forgossip among the Ton, he and his friends would soon not have a practice anymore. That was not an option; he had to make this heal.
“What did you do wrong this time?” the earl asked in a vulnerable voice that showed how young he was underneath the worn shell of his body. His voice was boyish, despite his crows’ feet and extensive dental work that showed even when he spoke.
Nick cast Lady Langley a look. She was rubbing her palms on her thighs. Her hair was elegantly braided, and her nails were manicured meticulously. She was a beautiful young lady; she’d been called a diamond of the first water and the pick of the season—at least that was Wendy had told Nick when she readDebrett’s.
“Let’s replace this bandage,” Nick said and got to work. The earl sat up and Nick could feel his exhale sharply when a spot of the round cotton caught on a flake of scab.
“Darling, Violet. Could you call for some brandy, please?” the earl said in a forced voice.
“Oh, but I couldn’t,” Nick protested.
“But I could.”
“With pleasure,” her ladyship said and left the room.
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning, are you certain you should drink?”
“I’m not drinking anymore, Dr. Folsham. Haven’t since our betrothal was announced. Mr. Sutton puts tea in the decanter every morning.”
Nick rinsed the wound and the earl continued to speak. “Mr. Collins gave me a special tea to support… ahem… my virility. There’s much pressure on me to produce an heir as soon as possible. But it’s been nearly half a year with no signs of… you know.”
Nick patted the area dry where he’d placed the stitches. The skin was irritated, but the infection lurked deeper.
“She pays attention, you know? She’s not just pretty. When we… you know, she wants candles lit and she knows how to take her pleasure—”
“My lord.” Nick tried to stop the flow of information. As an eye surgeon, he didn’t need to know all the details of his patient’s bedchamber exploits.
“Hear me out, please. So, you know what’s at stake.”
That chain around his throat grew tighter. He knew what was at stake: the earl’s vision and their practice. Alfie, Felix, Andre, and Wendy’s future at 87 Harley Street. A bad reputation would cost them their livelihoods and the chance to continue to build the practice they had worked on for so long. Was the earl threatening their existence if his eye didn’t heal properly?
“She’s not disinclined, Dr. Folsham. But she’s not in love. Thus, it makes my work all that much harder.”
