Page 64 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
His brow furrowed. “The least odd? You’re not odd at all.”
Her smile was self-deprecating. “My face is plain. It does not hold a man’s interest, but my rather large bosom does. I learned early on how to use it to my advantage. It’s the first thing men notice about me. It’s where their gazes linger. They don’t pay attention to my eyes so they miss the shrewd calculations going on in my mind as I measure their worth and gullibility. I miscalculated yours. It stung my pride.”
He squeezed her hand just before he began stroking his thumb over her knuckles. She wanted to weep at the kind gesture.
“I didn’t notice your bosom first,” he said quietly. “What caught my attention was the way you walked into the room as though you owned it.”
Her gaze captured his, and within his eyes, she saw the absolute truth. All along she’d assumed he was like all the others, fascinated by an aspect of her body over which she had no control. But as she thought about it, truly thought about it, she realized he never lingered overly long there. He spread his attentions over her entire person. Even her toes did not go unnoticed.
“I didn’t think you were nobility,” he continued, “yet you had such a regal bearing. I was quite entranced and I hadn’t been in a good long while. It felt good to be curious, to be intrigued. Like me, you seemed to be hiding something. That intrigued me all the more.”
“What are you hiding?” she asked.
He merely shook his head. “Does your brother never leave here, then?”
She realized he wasn’t going to share, at least not now. It was probably for the best. Her focus should be on Harry, had always been on Harry. “No. He doesn’t even go out into the garden during the day because our neighbors might catch a glimpse of him from their upstairs windows. We don’t want to attract the curious. He travels in books. Reads voraciously when he’s not writing. He likes to write as well, but won’t share his endeavors with me. Ever so private.”
Hearing footsteps, she rose as Sir William walked into the room. Avendale moved in to stand beside her, placing his hand on her lower back as though she needed to be steadied for what was to come. She wondered briefly if he was even aware how often he touched her.
“Let’s sit, shall we?” Sir William said.
That start didn’t portend well. Still, Rose returned to her place on the sofa, with Avendale at her side. Sir William took a plush chair opposite them. For the briefest of moments, it seemed he was studying Avendale intently, as though the duke were suddenly unfamiliar to him, which seemed odd considering he was his physician. Clearing his throat, he shifted his attention to Rose. “The injuries your brother sustained during the brawl are quite minor. A few cuts, scrapes, bruises. Nothing that won’t heal on its own with time.”
Relief swelled within Rose. “Good. I was quite worried. He seemed to be finding it more difficult to breathe than usual.”
Sir William nodded slowly. “He mentioned that he was finding a few things more difficult.”
Rose smiled. “You understood him? Most people can’t because of the way the shape of his mouth causes him to mumble and slur.”
“There are also growths within his mouth, within his body. He may have as many inside as he does out.”
“But you could remove them,” Avendale said.
Within Sir William’s blue eyes, Rose saw a well of sadness. “There are so many. The risks involved... I would hardly know where to begin. To be quite honest, I doubt he would survive any surgery—even at the hands of the most skilled physician.”
“What caused his condition?” Avendale asked.
Sir William shook his head. “I’ve no clue. I’ve never seen the like. I would like to examine him more thoroughly at the hospital, consult with a few of my colleagues.”
“Because he’s a curiosity?” Rose asked. “Because you can’t cure him, can you?”
“I can’t cure him, no.” He leaned forward. “There might be something we could learn.”
Tears burned her eyes. “No. He’s been stared at, poked and prodded enough. I won’t put him through that again. Even for medicine.”
“I can hardly blame you, I suppose.” He released a long, slow sigh. “You should probably begin preparing yourself, however, as I don’t think he’s long for this world.”
The words were like a solid blow to the center of Rose’s chest. She was astounded her lungs could still draw in breath and that her heart still pounded. The tears she’d been holding at bay broke free and rolled along her cheeks. “I could tell he was worsening. They keep growing, don’t they? Those things.”
“I believe so, yes, based upon what he told me. I could feel some inside him, but to know the full extent I would have to cut into him. I don’t think we’d gain anything by that, based upon what I can see on the surface.”
“Do you know how long before ...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. He might be a monster to everyone else, but to her, he was her brother.
“I’m sorry,” Sir William said, “but that is not in my hands. I can leave some laudanum to help ease his discomforts. I can come to check on him every few days. The more I observe, the more light I might be able to shed on the matter. I want to discuss his condition with other physicians I know.”
She started to protest.
“I won’t be obtrusive,” he assured her quickly. “I will be circumspect and not mention that I am seeing him. I’ll make discreet inquiries, and perhaps I’ll learn something to ease his suffering.”
