“Well, here is your chance, then. Perhaps you ought to set her up somewhere, support her yourself.”
“I am a married man, as well you know.”
“As am I, but you would have me do the same.”
“Iam not the child’s father.”
Three older men came out, putting on their coats and eyeing the two of them curiously. Harris glanced at the men, then back at Daniel, saying a bit too loudly, “Well, who can say with women today. One never knows.”
Daniel swung at the man’s face, but Harris was quicker and stronger and caught Daniel’s hand in a grip strengthened with constant horsemanship, no doubt, and rough compared to Daniel’s sensitive, skilled hands. Harris squeezed Daniel’s hand painfully tight.
“A pity to break a surgeon’s hand—do you not think?”
“Physician,” Daniel said through gritted teeth and stomped on the man’s foot.
Harris howled and reared back. He released Daniel’s hand and pulled back his arm, thick hand clenched in a fist.
“Mr. Harris!” A young manservant ran up the salon steps, clearly panicked.
Mr. Harris faltered and swung around to face the newcomer. “What is it, Jones?”
“It’s her ladyship, sir. The babe’s come early, and she’s having a hard time of it. That man-midwife says something isn’t right.”
Fight forgotten, Harris winced. “I told her to have a physician. But she insisted on Hugh Palmer, someaccoucheurpopular with her friends.”
“Please, sir,” the servant Jones begged. “He says come at once.”
Harris paled. Clasping Daniel’s arm he urged, “Taylor, I know you despise me, but please, for my wife’s sake ...”
“Of course.”
They arrived to screaming. Charles Harris cringed and his expression faded to an ashen mask of panic. “Good heavens.” He swiveled to face Daniel. “Please help her.”
Daniel took the stairs by threes, his medical bag swinging with each upward lunge. Harris followed close behind.
Hugh Palmer, an elfin-faced beauty of a man, met them at the door, his expression grim. “You are too late.”
“Too late!” Harris exploded.
“The child has come,” the accoucheur announced, “after much struggle.”
Daniel noticed the blood on the man’s hands and the fatalism in his voice.
Harris cringed again. “Then, why is she still screaming?”
“The child is ... I did my best to revive him, but I fear he is not long for this world.”
“No.” Harris bolted past the accoucheur, through the sitting room and into the lying-in room. Daniel followed. A monthly nurse was trying to keep a wild-faced Lady Katherine from leaping from her delivery cot.
“Where is my baby? Give me my baby! Charles! Oh, thank God you are here. They have taken our baby, Charles. They have taken our baby!”
Harris rushed to his wife’s side, and Daniel looked around the room. The nurse nodded toward a table near the door. Daniel jogged over and laid his ear on the chest of the swaddled babe. The skin was warm but he could hear no heartbeat. He struck the soles of the infant’s feet to stimulate crying, to no avail. He began blowing small puffs of air into the tiny mouth and lungs. Laying his long hand on the child’s abdomen, he applied gentle pressure at regular intervals to mimic exhalation.
“What is he doing? Is that my baby? What is he doing to him?”
“Hush, Katherine. Lie back. That is Dr. Taylor. He’s an excellent physician. Everything is going to be fine.”
Daniel doubted the words.
