Read Online Carla Kelly by Libby's London Merchant - Free Book Online

murmured. “She will introduce herself later, sir.” He pulled down the skin below the man’s eyelids and then passed his hand slowly across the merchant’s face. “Ah, excellent, sir. Pupils in equal alignment and movement.”
    The doctor took a deep breath and gently manipulated the merchant’s shoulder. Nesbitt Duke sucked in his breath and held it so long that Libby began to fidget. When she was about to cry, he let his breath out slowly and drew a shuddering breath, and another. He shifted his weight and groaned. “My leg . . .”
    “. . . will wait,” finished Anthony Cook. “We will worry about it after your arm has rejoined your body.”
    In spite of her growing agitation, Libby stole an admiring glance at Dr. Cook. Something had happened to the awkward, formal man in the bookroom. Dr. Cook knew precisely what he was doing. Libby held the candy merchant closer and forgave Anthony Cook the entire mess in the book room.
    “Joseph, you are just the man I need,” the doctor was saying. “Take Mr. Duke, is it? Take him by that arm. Gently, gently. When I tell you, start pulling on it slowly and evenly. Can you do that?”
    Joseph turned white and started to back away, but Anthony Cook fixed him with a stare that stopped him where he was. Without a word, Joseph took the merchant by the arm. Libby made an inarticulate sound in her throat.
    “Just hang on to him,” the doctor said as he rose up on his knees.
    “Yes, by all means,” the injured man murmured. He smiled at her. “Libby, is it? I am in the right place, then,” he added, more to himself than to her. He closed his eyes resolutely and set his jaw.
    “All right, Joseph, begin,” said the doctor quietly.
    Libby braced herself as the injured man cried out. Joseph pulled steadily, even as tears streamed down his cheeks, and Dr. Cook guided the arm back into the shoulder socket. There was an audible click, and the man fainted.
    Libby felt remarkably light-headed. She swallowed, shook her head, and made no complaint when Dr. Cook pulled her away from the injured man and without any ceremony pushed her head down between her knees. She stayed that way until her head cleared and the humming went away, and then she raised her head, embarrassed.
    Dr. Cook paid her no attention. He had cut away Mr. Duke’s pant leg below the knee and was surveying the ruin. Joseph took one long look and directed his attention to Nesbitt Duke’s horse again.
    The man was still unconscious. Libby cleared her throat. “That was foolish of me,” she apologized.
    Dr. Cook rubbed his hand across her hair, the gesture careless and comforting at the same time. “Don’t give it a thought. You should have seen me the first time I watched that piece of work. I thought you came through very well.” He smiled. “Although I don’t doubt you wish you had gone to Brighton after all.”
    She could only agree silently to herself. Libby forced herself to look at the man’s injured leg. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
    “Carry him to Holyoke Green, if you think that will do,” he said.
    “Of course, of course,” Libby said at once. “Your place is a bit closer, but I doubt . . .” She paused, her face red.
    “You doubt that my father would be sufficiently interested to nurse a gentleman of the merchant class?” the doctor finished. He laughed at her evident chagrin. “You are entirely right. Mr. Duke of Copley’s will fare better at your place. Let us leave Joseph to see to the horse.”
    With scarcely any effort, Dr. Cook lifted the injured man in his arms and started down the road with his burden, cradling him close. Libby snatched up the worn bag that had burst open in the road and stuffed the clothes back inside. She hurried to catch up with the doctor. Libby tugged at the doctor’s sleeve. “You’re not . . . you’re not going to have to amputate, are you?” she whispered.
    Anthony Cook looked down at her and smiled as though he were out for a