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Secrets of Sloane House(26)



“I counted them myself.” His voice was firm, allowing no argument. “If you don’t allow the sutures to heal, infection could set in and that could be very dangerous.”

“Listen to him, Rosalind,” Cook warned as the doctor wiped down his instruments, then set them all back in his bag before walking to the sink and washing his hands again.

“But Mrs. Sloane—”

“I doubt she’ll even wonder where you are,” Dora said. “She hardly ever lets her temper get the best of her.”

“I can’t imagine Mrs. Sloane ever losing her temper.”

Dora laughed. “Only Master Douglass and Miss Veronica can make her truly upset. Or someone who threatens them,” she said with a laugh.

Cook stepped closer. “Ignore Dora, Rosalind. Don’t you worry about Mrs. Sloane. All that matters is that the house continues to run smoothly. We’ll all help you as best as we can.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“My advice is to go lie down for a while,” Dr. Nolan said. “Your hand will hurt like the devil, but that’s to be expected. Change the dressing once a day. If you start to develop a fever or it begins to bleed, or if the skin around your stitches seems more tender or red and swollen, have someone fetch me.” With a kind look, he added, “We don’t want anything to happen to you too.”

“No. I mean, of course not. I mean, thank you, Doctor.”

After the doctor took a few sips of his cooling tea, he stood up and Emma led him to Jerome.

When they were sitting alone at the table, Cook stared at Rosalind hard. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I’m thinking that there’s more going on with you besides a hurt hand. Is there anything you’d like to discuss?”

Rosalind met the older woman’s eyes. Noticed how sharp and perceptive she looked. This was a woman who knew more than she let on.

Was there anything more she wanted to discuss? Absolutely.

Could she? Definitely not.

If today’s story about her sister was correct, it was becoming very apparent that not only had some disturbing things happened to Miranda, but also she hadn’t trusted anyone in the household with secrets.

Rosalind figured she should take that as advice. She was completely alone. There wasn’t a single person she could trust with her own secrets.

Not a single solitary one.

“No, Mrs. Russell. There’s nothing at all.”





CHAPTER 9

Reid Armstrong might have been heir to one of the wealthiest fortunes in Chicago, but for the most part, he still felt a bit like a fish out of water along Michigan Avenue.

Perhaps it was because his parents hadn’t come from money. Instead, his father had gotten lucky in the silver market and had been shrewd in his investments right after the War of Southern Aggression.

Those investments tripled, then tripled again, propelling their somewhat comfortable existence into a whole new direction. And because his parents had always dreamed of creating a better life for their only son, they’d pushed Reid forward into a series of prestigious boarding schools, followed by a finishing year at Harvard.

So now he was firmly embedded in high society, yet always most comfortable around folks who were far less pretentious. He liked going to church. He liked spending an evening listening to music or playing cards. There, he felt at ease. At rest.

But those days had become few and far between. His parents wanted him to marry well, to do justice to their plans. So he’d learned to curb his tongue and look a bit bored. He’d learned to dance well and play poker and billiards even better. He’d learned to be quick-witted—or to at least appreciate that gift in others.

And he did well.

But even so, he sometimes found himself at a loss for words in certain situations. Which was what was happening at that moment.

He’d gone to see Douglass to seek his opinion on a certain investment he was considering, when Veronica spied him in the Sloane House entryway and came running to his side.

“Reid, I’m so glad to see you,” she said, her voice wavering and her eyes looking to be on the verge of tears. “Everything here is falling apart. Help me escape!”

He was taken aback. Though they’d certainly spent time together, their relationship had definitely not progressed to him providing her comfort.

In an effort to lighten her mood, he teased, “And where shall we escape to? Would you care to take a stroll down Michigan Avenue? Go to the fair again?”

“Neither of those things. I want to stay away from the crowds. Be alone.” Her voice lowered. “Let’s do something more private, Reid. At the moment, I don’t want to be around anyone but you.”