“What can I do?” she asked, but Du Montfort must have thought she was talking to him.
“Nothing. The only way it could be reversed is if the Home Secretary intervenes and that won’t happen. No one will embarrass a government department over a handful of refugee women who apparently didn’t understand what they were signing.” He stopped suddenly and his face twisted, as if something had bitten into his liver.
She looked at Adam helplessly.
The door opened and Nurse Ann walked in bearing a supper tray. She took one look at Du Montfort and placed the tray on a table far from him. He was unlikely to eat anything tonight.
“I’m going to give you another injection.” Adam held a needle up as a thin stream of liquid squirted out the top.
“Tell me about the wedding. Are we going to have a magnificent bride?” Lord M’s voice was a scrap of its former strength.
Adam nodded at her to keep talking, then took the old man’s palm and pushed the needle gently into a vein on the back of his hand.
“It will look amazing. Just like Millie herself. It will be a dress to match her love of this island.”
There was a little nagging thought at the back of her head.
“Good, that’s what I want to hear. Will it be ready on time?” The painkiller must have worked because he began to unclench.
“Of course. Millie herself will be back tomorrow in time for a fitting and we should be done a few days before the actual wedding day.”
“Good. Good.” His voice barely a breath as he lay back against his pillow and his eyes fluttered closed.
Adam tipped his head towards the door and Laura left him chatting quietly with Nurse Anne. A moment later, he came out. As soon as the doors were closed, she asked, “What did you give him?”
“Morphine. Nothing else will touch the pain.” Deep worry was etched on his face and clouded his green eyes.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I wish I knew. He’s been in pain on and off for weeks but it’s been constant today.”
“But you have suspicions, don’t you?” She searched his face. “And so does he. That’s why he doesn’t want you to do more tests. Because he’s afraid the bad news will ruin the wedding.”
“You saw it too?” he asked her sharply.
“I think it’s the reason he was so angry when Nicole told him I was making a mess of the gown. It makes sense.”
“All he’s been talking about is seeing his son and Millie get married. I think he’s hoping I’ll keep him pain-free and alive till then.” He gave her a bleak look. “I can’t do that. I would be failing in my duty as a doctor.”
Only last night he’d spoken of his despair at not being the kind of doctor he wanted to be. And here he was again being forced to do the same.
“Can’t you make him go to hospital?”
“How? Knock him on the head and carry him against his will? He’s free to refuse treatment.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry I called him Lord Rottweiler,” she said at last.
His smile broke through. “You didn’t really know him.”
Had it only been yesterday? It felt like they’d lived through a month of upheaval together.
He reached over and brushed something off the top of her head. “Thread.” He showed her.
It must have come off one of the towels she’d used earlier. “I got caught in the rain on the way back. Mrs B helped me dry my hair.”
He rubbed his fingers through her short locks again before stepping back and leaning against the wall. A deep sigh escaped him.
