Finally, on the fifth night, as she waited at her window for his return, he slid off his horse, and for once, his attendants weren’t quick enough to catch him.
She raced from her room, not caring whether the stupid man was in league with the devil, a smuggling ring, or Wellington’s spies. He was clearly engaged in some activity that put his safety at risk, and it must be stopped.
She needn’t have worried about anyone noticing her. The house was in an uproar when she descended to the first floor. She shrank back as Wendover and the gamekeeper helped the duke up the stairs.
“I am capable of walking myself,” he snapped.
He looked dreadful, pale, his cloak hanging at an odd angle from his neck like a broken wing. He leaned heavily against the balustrade, and it seemed that the flock of servants below held their collective breath until he turned his head and shouted, “Go!”
Carstairs ordered two footmen to fetch His Grace’s physician. Wendover and the gamekeeper remained behind the duke in the likely event that he would miss a step and fall.
Ivy was grateful the children had gone to bed.
She knew that she must discover the duke’s secret. And she would do so tonight.
Chapter 22
“I warned Your Grace,” the physician said to James, who lay reluctantly in his bed with every Tom, Dick, and Harry at his side. “If you continue to strain your muscular organs, they will dilate and weaken beyond what your blood supply will be able to repair.”
James grunted. “And that’s why you just removed a bucket of my blood, is it?” He ground his teeth as the dark-coated figure applied another steaming cloth to his arm, blistering his skin.
“The wet heat brings comfort,” the physician said with a sigh. “I encouraged light activity, as I recall.”
“Well, I can’t weave a shawl to save my life. I haven’t the dexterity to play marbles with the children. It takes me a half an hour to bait a fishing rod.”
“Read a book. Soak in a hot tub.”
“Can I challenge a man to a duel to see who finishes his book first before his bathwater turns cold?”
“A duel?” Dr. Buchan peeled off the cooling cloth and applied a thick coating of green ointment to James’s skin.
“Yes. I can punch a hole in a wall. I can lift this bed. But I can’t pull a trigger or hold the gun steadily enough to blast the door behind you.”
“Perhaps you should start practicing with your other side.”
“Brilliant. Do you think I’ll be able to compete with an expert duelist in a fortnight?”
The physician gave a rude snort. “No.”
James swore. “Neither do I. Isn’t there another surgery you can do?”
“Not in a fortnight. Not ever, I’m afraid. You’re a lucky devil to have survived the first without developing gangrene. No doubt you still have bone chips and bullet fragments that are causing you distress. Whoever splintered you did an excellent job. I might chance severing the adhesions with a fine scalpel, but there’s a risk of damaging your muscles and atrophy.”
“What was your field of expertise in Antwerp?”
“Obstetric physician.”
“Great God.”
“I am leaving you with a tincture of morphia for the night.”
“Take everyone with you.”
James closed his eyes. The door opened and shut. “I am not taking that swill,” he said between his teeth. “I was addicted to it for six months.” He sat up as he heard the door of his dressing closet swing open.
“Whatever you have forgotten, sir, take it quickly or I shall growl at you.”
“Growl at me all you like.” He opened his eyes and saw Ivy beside his bed.
“What are you doing here? Gloating?”
She stared down at him, shaking her head in dismay. “No. You can’t believe for a moment that I enjoy your suffering.”
He lay on the bed with his shirt undone. He just realized that if she had been sitting in his dressing room, she had heard his conversation with the physician. “I thought you weren’t going to come near me again.”
“Not unless you are at death’s door,” she said quietly, looking at the bandage, pair of scissors, and bottle of medicine on the table beside his bed. “Are you?”
He sat up, cursing under his breath. “As a matter of fact, I am. I’m fatal. Have you come to give me comfort?”
She didn’t move.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
She sat down beside him. “I heard every word.”
“Good. Then you know that I need you and I’m not willing to let anyone else take you from me.”
“Are you practicing every night in preparation to fight a duel? Over me?”