Read Online Rogue's Honor by Brenda Hiatt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brenda Hiatt
Tags: Romance, Historical Romance, Regency Romance, Romance - Historical, brenda hiatt, regency rogue
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be in considerable pain."
"Thank you," he said, thinking of other
things she could remedy for him. Later. There would be time for
that later.
Pausing only to slice bread and cheese that
they could eat along the way, Luke led her back out into the
streets, hoping that together they could render aid to poor
Christophe—and that it would not take too long.
When they reached her second story apartment,
Mme. Billaud greeted him with delight, chattering in her native
French, but paused at the sight of the girl behind him. "Surely,
this is no surgeon?" she asked, still in French.
Mme. Billaud, he remembered belatedly, spoke
almost no English. He would have to translate for Purdy—though that
had advantages, as well as drawbacks. "She knows much of healing
arts," he replied in French. Then, to Purdy, "I'm merely reassuring
her that you'll try to help."
Purdy nodded. "May we see the boy?"
He conveyed the request, and Mme. Billaud led
them to a curtain that separated the sleeping area from the rest of
the small room. From his cot, Christophe grinned up at Luke with
his usual impudence, but the white line around his mouth attested
to the pain he was suffering.
As she had at the Planks', Purdy hurried
forward, her focus instantly on her patient. Gently, she probed the
injured leg, while Luke asked the boy to point out where it hurt
most.
After a few moments, she turned to Luke with
a relieved smile. "It appears to be a clean break—I can feel no
displacement. If we can find something to use as a splint and some
bandages, I believe we can do as much for him as a surgeon
could."
A tension Luke had been unaware was
constricting his chest suddenly loosened as he returned her smile.
"Excellent!" Then, again in French, he explained to Mme. Billaud
what they would need. Nodding and chattering, the woman hurried
out, saying that a neighbor had just the thing.
Purdy spent the few minutes while she was
gone soothing the boy with her voice while she made certain his leg
was as straight as possible.
"Can I be of assistance?" Luke asked her as
she struggled to turn Christophe's knee slightly without causing
the boy any more pain than necessary. He hadn't known anyone since
his mother with Purdy's capacity for compassion.
She sent him a quick smile, which again went
straight to his nether regions. "Thank you, but I believe that will
do it. We're ready for the splint now."
Even as she spoke, Mme. Billaud returned with
the required items. Handing them to Purdy, she asked whether she
needed anything else.
"No, this will do the job nicely,
Madame."
"And will he be all right?" asked the anxious
mother.
"Yes, I believe so. The break is not bad."
Purdy was working as she spoke, binding the two wooden splints on
either side of the leg with tightly wrapped bandages.
Watching her deft ministrations, it was
several seconds before Luke realized with a shock that Mme.
Billaud's questions had been in French—as had Purdy's replies. The
girl spoke French with the ease of a native! She seemed unaware of
having done anything unusual, however, still intent on her
work.
When she finished a few minute later, she
turned to Luke. "Tell Mrs. Billaud that her son must not use this
leg at all for the next few days. After that, he should be able to
get around a bit, if she can find or fashion him a crutch to keep
his weight off of the leg."
Hiding his smile, Luke dutifully relayed her
instructions so that she would not realize her earier slip, then
bade Mme. Billaud and her son goodbye. What other abilities or
knowledge might Purdy be hiding, he wondered, as they reached the
street again. He decided to try a small test.
"The Billauds are but lately come to
England," he told her as they walked. "They tired of the tug-of-war
over their homeland between the Treaties of '14 and '15, and came
here to escape it."
She nodded absently, staring at a pair of
ill-clad children arguing over a crust of bread, a touching concern
creasing her pretty brow. "Were they
"Thank you," he said, thinking of other
things she could remedy for him. Later. There would be time for
that later.
Pausing only to slice bread and cheese that
they could eat along the way, Luke led her back out into the
streets, hoping that together they could render aid to poor
Christophe—and that it would not take too long.
When they reached her second story apartment,
Mme. Billaud greeted him with delight, chattering in her native
French, but paused at the sight of the girl behind him. "Surely,
this is no surgeon?" she asked, still in French.
Mme. Billaud, he remembered belatedly, spoke
almost no English. He would have to translate for Purdy—though that
had advantages, as well as drawbacks. "She knows much of healing
arts," he replied in French. Then, to Purdy, "I'm merely reassuring
her that you'll try to help."
Purdy nodded. "May we see the boy?"
He conveyed the request, and Mme. Billaud led
them to a curtain that separated the sleeping area from the rest of
the small room. From his cot, Christophe grinned up at Luke with
his usual impudence, but the white line around his mouth attested
to the pain he was suffering.
As she had at the Planks', Purdy hurried
forward, her focus instantly on her patient. Gently, she probed the
injured leg, while Luke asked the boy to point out where it hurt
most.
After a few moments, she turned to Luke with
a relieved smile. "It appears to be a clean break—I can feel no
displacement. If we can find something to use as a splint and some
bandages, I believe we can do as much for him as a surgeon
could."
A tension Luke had been unaware was
constricting his chest suddenly loosened as he returned her smile.
"Excellent!" Then, again in French, he explained to Mme. Billaud
what they would need. Nodding and chattering, the woman hurried
out, saying that a neighbor had just the thing.
Purdy spent the few minutes while she was
gone soothing the boy with her voice while she made certain his leg
was as straight as possible.
"Can I be of assistance?" Luke asked her as
she struggled to turn Christophe's knee slightly without causing
the boy any more pain than necessary. He hadn't known anyone since
his mother with Purdy's capacity for compassion.
She sent him a quick smile, which again went
straight to his nether regions. "Thank you, but I believe that will
do it. We're ready for the splint now."
Even as she spoke, Mme. Billaud returned with
the required items. Handing them to Purdy, she asked whether she
needed anything else.
"No, this will do the job nicely,
Madame."
"And will he be all right?" asked the anxious
mother.
"Yes, I believe so. The break is not bad."
Purdy was working as she spoke, binding the two wooden splints on
either side of the leg with tightly wrapped bandages.
Watching her deft ministrations, it was
several seconds before Luke realized with a shock that Mme.
Billaud's questions had been in French—as had Purdy's replies. The
girl spoke French with the ease of a native! She seemed unaware of
having done anything unusual, however, still intent on her
work.
When she finished a few minute later, she
turned to Luke. "Tell Mrs. Billaud that her son must not use this
leg at all for the next few days. After that, he should be able to
get around a bit, if she can find or fashion him a crutch to keep
his weight off of the leg."
Hiding his smile, Luke dutifully relayed her
instructions so that she would not realize her earier slip, then
bade Mme. Billaud and her son goodbye. What other abilities or
knowledge might Purdy be hiding, he wondered, as they reached the
street again. He decided to try a small test.
"The Billauds are but lately come to
England," he told her as they walked. "They tired of the tug-of-war
over their homeland between the Treaties of '14 and '15, and came
here to escape it."
She nodded absently, staring at a pair of
ill-clad children arguing over a crust of bread, a touching concern
creasing her pretty brow. "Were they
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