“You can breathe, Alex. The break appears clean,” Dr. Smithson said, a smile in his voice. “I’m not feeling any other fragments. It merely needs to be set.”
Dr. Whitaker’s chest heaved, as if he had run up a steep hill. “Thank heaven,” he rasped.
Relief washed over Lottie, a pure and buoyant wave.
“Could you fetch some warm water?” Dr. Smithson flicked a hand in Lottie’s direction without looking up. “I’m also going to need yards of strong muslin and several straight boards to wrap the leg once I set it.”
Lottie nodded, walking to the bell-pull near the fireplace.
Dr. Smithson finally turned toward her.
“Lady Charlotte!” His eyes flew wide, voice rising a solid octave. “I didn’t realize it was you here.”
Dr. Whitaker raised his head, staring at her. His torn shirt slipped, revealing even more of his chest, drawing Lottie’s eye downward.
She froze like a simpleton before the fireplace, one hand outstretched toward the servants’ bell-pull.
“Ye shouldnae be here, lass,” he gasped.
Her eyes flew to his. They were stormy and glazed, as if he were being held together by sheer grit.
“Please, this is no place for a gently-bred woman, Lady Charlotte.” Dr. Smithson pointed toward the door. “Go fetch the housekeeper and a strong footman to assist me.”
Lottie froze in place, unable to look away from Dr. Whitaker’s tormented gaze.
“Go. Please.” Dr. Whitaker slumped back, pressing his hands again to his eyes. “I didnae want ye here when Michael sets this leg.”
Lottie flinched and lurched into action, leaving the room in a rustle of skirts.
She was halfway down the stairs when Dr. Whitaker’s choked cry of agony reached her.
“You need totake some laudanum, Alex.” Michael Smithson hunched over Alex’s left leg, tying off the splint. “Your head injury is minor, thank goodness. The rest of your scrapes are superficial. You’ve the beginnings of a mild fever, which is to be expected when the body endures such a shock. But neither of us wants to see that fever strengthen and infection to set in. This means lying impossibly still, so as to not disturb your leg. But in order to do that, we must alleviate your pain.”
Alex drew in a slow breath, tamping down the panic he could feel inching in.
His leg might not need to be amputated.
The bone was set. A splint had been applied. A footman had brought in a fracture box for the leg to rest in as it healed. The pain had gone from sharp and excruciating to dull and throbbing.
The worst was over.
Perhaps.
He was terrified to tempt Fate at this point.
Every time he thought his visit to Frome Abbey could not get any worse, reality managed to surprise him.
So . . . maybe he should just be grateful to be alive.
But at the moment, it was hard to see any silver linings.
No, he took that back.
There wasoneenormous blessing in all this.
He looked at his friend.
“Thank you,” Alex murmured, ignoring the advice about laudanum. “Thank the Lord on High it wasyouwho arrived today.”
