“This isn’t your fault,” Gory assured him, and then rushed out to climb into the carriage with Julius.
Ambrose insisted on joining them while Octavian agreed to return to the others. “Take care of him, Ambrose. You can count on Leo and me to deal with everything else.” He cast Gory a feeble smile. “I would send Syd with you, but I think you are as adept as she is in treating wounds. Keep the little squirt alive, will you?”
She nodded.
“Little squirt? I’m going to punch you, Octavian. I swear, I will,” Julius said with a pained laugh.
Octavian nodded. “I look forward to the day you have the strength to manage it.”
No more was said as their carriage rolled away at a breakneck clip. Gory insisted on removing his jacket, and then Ambrose helped her slice open his shirt sleeve because Julius refused to walk out onto the street shirtless, even if it was merely to walk into Dr. Farthingale’s surgery. “Others might be in his waiting room.”
She did not argue the point since removing the sleeve was all she needed to do in order to examine the damage. Unlike the first time, this shot had lodged in his arm, just as she feared. She had worn a silk shawl that matched the lovely tea rose gown she was wearing and now slipped it off her shoulders to use as a tourniquet of a sort because she had to stem his bleeding. “This is all my fault,” she started to say, but was immediately silenced by both Thornes.
“You cannot be blamed for the cruelty of your aunt,” Julius insisted. “She’s the one with the wicked plots. She’s the one who tried to have you and your uncle murdered, and when that failed, tried to have the blame for his murder put on you.”
“Is it over yet, do you think?” Gory let out a shaky breath, for the red stain was spreading quickly on the shawl and she did not like this at all.
Bleeding out was the greatest danger at the moment.
Nor did it help that they were bouncing around the carriage while it careened toward the doctor’s surgery. She dared not slow the driver because getting Julius promptly treated was of the greatest urgency.
Julius gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me, love. I’ll be fine. I promise you.”
Ah, yes.
There was that word again. Fine. I’ll be fine.
She prayed it would be so.
Dr. Farthingale had just finished with a patient when they hurried in. There were others seated in the waiting room, but he took Julius first. “Gory, come in with him. I’ll need you to assist me. Your Grace, might I suggest you wait in my office. You’ll find it more comfortable.”
Ambrose nodded. “Do not worry about me. See to my brother.”
“Scrub your hands thoroughly, Gory,” the doctor told her once he and Ambrose had assisted Julius into the examination room and onto the table.
He ordered Julius to lie quietly, and then left his side to wash up, as well. “I boil my instruments after each use,” he began to explain. “I also insist on keeping this surgery spotless. Dirtiness is what leads to infection. The ancient civilizations seemed to understand this, but so much of their knowledge has been lost over the centuries.”
He continued to speak as he now moved on to swab the area of Julius’s arm and clean away the blood. “You were not as lucky this time, my lord. The bullet is lodged in the muscle. I’ll give you a sedative, but it is not going to be strong enough to have you feel no pain.”
Julius nodded. “Gory, if this scares you, I–”
“I’m staying. Do not feel the need to be stoic for me. Cry like a baby, if you must. I know you are the bravest, most wonderful man alive, and nothing you say or do in here will ever change my opinion of you. So, all you have to do is stay alive. That is all I need you to do for me.”
She held his hand while the doctor dug into his arm and dislodged the hot ball of lead. The pain had to be unbearable, but Julius seemed to handle it, for he hardly cried out. However, he did squeeze her hand awfully hard more than a time or two.
She did not mind, for it was more important to provide any comfort she could.
Seeing him suffer was so much worse than having to suffer a wound herself. Since he did not need her falling apart over him, she held herself together and followed Dr. Farthingale’s instructions as he stitched Julius’s arm.
“There,” Dr. Farthingale said upon finishing his handiwork. He studied this new row of stitches that matched the smaller row Julius sported on his other arm.
Gory let out the breath she had been holding.
“This is awful,” she said when the doctor left the room for a moment to report to Ambrose.
“What?” Julius asked groggily, too weak to sit up yet. “My arm?”
“No, Dr. Farthingale did a perfect job on that. I was referring to the situation, this ongoing danger to you now that you are shackled to me. Julius, you mustn’t keep trying to save me.”
