Page 22 of A Touch of Charm
“Hot,” Stan grimaced, and his neck cracked when he moved it. His hand came to the opposite shoulder. “Burning,” he added.
Andre’s face darkened. “I need to look at the incision.” He handed Thea the parcel. “Before you woke, I took the liberty of gathering some essentials to ensure your comfort. I realize the highwaymen caught you, and you could pack nothing for a journey to London.”
“That’s why I said we should go to the Langleys and avoid strangers. Anyone could be a traitor and pose a danger,” Stan growled, but Thea ignored him.
“How very considerate,” Thea said, accepting the parcel with open arms. “How did you find all this?”
“The coachman’s wife is a seamstress on Regent Street.” Andre smiled when Thea gasped at the contents of the parcel. There was rose water, a silver comb, ribbons, and a few other things in lovely matching packaging.
“You may go to Wendy’s chambers if you wish. You will also find a stack of towels, and I can run a hot bath for you—”
“No, Andre. My sister mustn’t take a bath here. I’ll bring her with me to Violet’s house so that she can be properly chaperoned,” Stan interjected, still his hand on the shoulder with the injury. “I am certain that the Earl and Countess of Langley will not mind if I bring some guests,” Stan said.
Andre inclined his head, showing his obedience, but Thea could see the disappointment in his eyes. Was it possible that he wished to be with her more, just as she hoped to spend more time with him?
*
After Thea andMary left to freshen up in Wendy’s chamber and the shared bathroom, Andre tended to Stan who’d come downstairs to his treatment room looking even worse than after the battle in the woods. The prince was proud and didn’t admit it, but Andre could see he was in pain.
“I am afraid that you’re showing the four cardinal signs of inflammation,” Andre said upon inspecting the incision. It must have bled a little more at night after he’d placed the sutures, so he prepared a small muslin square and a dilution of calendula and chamomile to rinse the wound.
“No inflammation, Andre, don’t say the word. I don’t have time for that,” Stan said, but he winced when Andre touched the wound with the wet muslin.
Andre touched Stan’s forehead and pursed his lips. “You have a low-grade fever.”
“I’m just a little hot,” Stan shrugged, and he cringed because his shoulder seemed to cause pain. It wasn’t too swollen yet, so proper wound care could still control the infection, Andre thought.
“You speak Latin, don’t you? And Romanian is so close to it, you’ll understand. There are four signs of infection:rubor, tumor, calor,anddolor,” Andre said. “The ancient Romans already described it in this manner.”
“Redness, swelling, heat, and pain,” Stan translated.
“Very good, so you don’t deny that there’s an infection indeed.” Andre continued to clean the wound.
“I acknowledged that I understood the words, not that I agree to the infection,” Stan mumbled.
“Unfortunately, an infection is not something you can agree to; it happens. But you can fight it off and look after yourself.”
“I don’t have time, Andre. I have to take Thea to the Langleys, I trust them. And then I will confront List. You know he sent the men to abduct my sister. He’s dangerous.”
“This is dangerous, Stan. With all due respect for your sense of duty and honor, if this infection spreads and your fever gets worse, you could die. And then you neither resolve the issue with List nor keep your sister safe.”
“Then who will keep her safe? Who can I trust for so long to look after her and this little girl she has brought?”
At first, Andre remained silent. Sometimes the best defense was retreat. “I’m going to Alfie’s apothecary to bring some pine honey and a new wound dressing,” Andre said, but Stan grabbed his arm and squeezed.
“You have to do it! Not just tonight but for a while. At least until I sort the mess with List out.” Stan spoke with such urgency, and his eyes showed how important this was to him. “Do you understand how precious she is to me?” Stan’s brows furrowed deeply.
Andre slumped his shoulders, the weight of the situation pressing heavily down on him. “I do know. I had a sister, too. And I would have given my life to protect her.”
I left my family to keep them safe from the misfortune that is me. But those weren’t words he could speak, lest the prince before him lose respect for Andre, the bastard, instead of trusting him as Andre, the doctor. It had always been his policy to separate his two personas, even though it was tearing him apart on the inside. If only he hadn’t been born at the wrong time.
“Then you know. Can you look after my sister and help me until our brother Alex arrives? Please?” Stan asked, his voice raw. This wasn’t the request of a prince but merely of a big brother.
Andre noticed the sheen of sweat on Stan’s brow, a subtle tremor in his step as he cradled his shoulder, the protective slump betraying the fever burning beneath. Even as Stan’s words charged ahead, Andre’s mind weighed the balance between confrontation and the silent peril beneath Stan’s bandage.
Andre scratched his head. “Under one condition!”
Stan blinked a few times as if he weren’t used to receiving conditions. “What?”
