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Authors: To Wed a Stranger
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eh?” Harry then patted Miles’s shoulder. “Never mind. Yarrow and elderflower are specifics for some infections. If that’s what it is there’d be no harm in it and possibly much good.”
Mrs. Farrow looked up when they entered the bedroom. “She’s still sleeping,” she told Miles, “but her breathing seems easier. That could be only my wishful thinking, though. What do you think, Harry? And how have you been?”
“By all that’s holy,” the surgeon said with a smile. “Gloriana! You found yourself a worthy ministering angel,” he told Miles. “We’re old friends, Mrs. Farrow and I. Her essays are well regarded at the Academy and her research has been of great interest to us. How have you and your good husband been keeping, Gloriana?”
“Well enough. Had His Lordship told me you were the surgeon he sent for I’d have been easier in my mind. The lady is not in good case, Harry. Not at all.”
“Well, let’s have a look,” Harry said, approaching the bed. He stared at his new patient, felt her forehead, and bent his head to her heart to listen close. Then he gently lifted one of Annabelle’s arms and winced at what he saw. “Cupping?” he asked sadly, pushing back the sleeve of her dressing gown to look at the array of dark red circles that disfigured her slender arm. “Of course, unless she was attacked by an octopus,” he answered himself bitterly. “On the breast as well, I suppose?”
Mrs. Farrow parted Annabelle’s dressing gown, and the surgeon winced. “Oh Lord. The devil was thorough with his remedies, wasn’t he? And these horrors here, along her ribs? Blisters, I suppose? Raise a blister, lower a fever, but that was in the last century. It won’t go out of style until the next, I’m afraid.”
He continued his inventory. “This gash here at the wrist, of course, was for the bleeding. Certainly efficacious for fevers due to infection caused by shot. But for this?”
He turned to Miles. “He was lucky you only threw him out, I would have killed him. Now,” he said, looking at his patient again, “let me see what I can do.”
Chapter 6
M iles felt a touch on his arm and he woke instantly, looking up in confusion. He’d only meant to rest, but when he’d closed his eyes it wasn’t yet dawn, and now the room was filled with light.
“How long have I been sleeping?” he asked, starting from his chair, his eyes wild. “How is she?”
“Shh, she’s doing well. At least her condition hasn’t changed, and that is well,” Mrs. Farrow said. “Harry went to bed. I had the night watch, remember? But I must get warm water and need someone to sit with her while I do. I hesitated to leave if you were asleep. I know it’s foolish of me because she doesn’t know the difference, but I hate to leave her alone for a moment.”
“Not foolish, kind and considerate,” Miles said,his heart slowing to a normal pace again. “Go and get some rest yourself. I’m refreshed.”
She gave him a quizzical look.
He looked down at himself, and added, “‘Refreshed’ admittedly, is perhaps not the right word. I look like I’ve slept in my clothes, because I have. But I do feel better for it.”
“My lord, closing your eyes for five minutes is not refreshing. Nor is not eating or exercising. You’ve been glued to this room since she fell ill. I wouldn’t have woken you unless I had to. I suppose I didn’t have to, but…”
“I know,” he said gently. “She’s very alone and her condition unpredictable. Go now. I’ll watch.”
But watch for what? he wondered as he sat by his bride’s bedside again. Could she slip away in her sleep? And if so, what difference did it make if he stayed? For that matter, what difference would it make to her if she woke to find him there? How could he give her any comfort? He hardly knew her. He sat sprawled in a chair, watching her and bedeviling himself.
She dreamed on. He kept watching to make sure she was still breathing. Her face was so
Mrs. Farrow looked up when they entered the bedroom. “She’s still sleeping,” she told Miles, “but her breathing seems easier. That could be only my wishful thinking, though. What do you think, Harry? And how have you been?”
“By all that’s holy,” the surgeon said with a smile. “Gloriana! You found yourself a worthy ministering angel,” he told Miles. “We’re old friends, Mrs. Farrow and I. Her essays are well regarded at the Academy and her research has been of great interest to us. How have you and your good husband been keeping, Gloriana?”
“Well enough. Had His Lordship told me you were the surgeon he sent for I’d have been easier in my mind. The lady is not in good case, Harry. Not at all.”
“Well, let’s have a look,” Harry said, approaching the bed. He stared at his new patient, felt her forehead, and bent his head to her heart to listen close. Then he gently lifted one of Annabelle’s arms and winced at what he saw. “Cupping?” he asked sadly, pushing back the sleeve of her dressing gown to look at the array of dark red circles that disfigured her slender arm. “Of course, unless she was attacked by an octopus,” he answered himself bitterly. “On the breast as well, I suppose?”
Mrs. Farrow parted Annabelle’s dressing gown, and the surgeon winced. “Oh Lord. The devil was thorough with his remedies, wasn’t he? And these horrors here, along her ribs? Blisters, I suppose? Raise a blister, lower a fever, but that was in the last century. It won’t go out of style until the next, I’m afraid.”
He continued his inventory. “This gash here at the wrist, of course, was for the bleeding. Certainly efficacious for fevers due to infection caused by shot. But for this?”
He turned to Miles. “He was lucky you only threw him out, I would have killed him. Now,” he said, looking at his patient again, “let me see what I can do.”
Chapter 6
M iles felt a touch on his arm and he woke instantly, looking up in confusion. He’d only meant to rest, but when he’d closed his eyes it wasn’t yet dawn, and now the room was filled with light.
“How long have I been sleeping?” he asked, starting from his chair, his eyes wild. “How is she?”
“Shh, she’s doing well. At least her condition hasn’t changed, and that is well,” Mrs. Farrow said. “Harry went to bed. I had the night watch, remember? But I must get warm water and need someone to sit with her while I do. I hesitated to leave if you were asleep. I know it’s foolish of me because she doesn’t know the difference, but I hate to leave her alone for a moment.”
“Not foolish, kind and considerate,” Miles said,his heart slowing to a normal pace again. “Go and get some rest yourself. I’m refreshed.”
She gave him a quizzical look.
He looked down at himself, and added, “‘Refreshed’ admittedly, is perhaps not the right word. I look like I’ve slept in my clothes, because I have. But I do feel better for it.”
“My lord, closing your eyes for five minutes is not refreshing. Nor is not eating or exercising. You’ve been glued to this room since she fell ill. I wouldn’t have woken you unless I had to. I suppose I didn’t have to, but…”
“I know,” he said gently. “She’s very alone and her condition unpredictable. Go now. I’ll watch.”
But watch for what? he wondered as he sat by his bride’s bedside again. Could she slip away in her sleep? And if so, what difference did it make if he stayed? For that matter, what difference would it make to her if she woke to find him there? How could he give her any comfort? He hardly knew her. He sat sprawled in a chair, watching her and bedeviling himself.
She dreamed on. He kept watching to make sure she was still breathing. Her face was so
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