Mr. Chase chuckled. “It’s damn pointless, no doubt.”
“I don’t care what the odds are. I will not stand by and watch him die. I must do something. Anything.”
He sighed. “Very well. Send word if . . .”
She nodded. “He won’t. We’ll be waiting.”
“Does Death do your bidding?”
“He has so far.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Hours passed. Amelialanguished beside her brother, counting every breath, her hand over his heart, feeling every tenuous beat. Graham was right there with her, and servants loitered in the hallway. A heaviness settled over the house, like a held breath. When word came that Mr. Chase had returned—with the doctor, the Widow of Whitehall, and a third man—Amelia thought she was dreaming.
She slipped from Sam’s side, Graham watching her quietly as she went into the hall.
The doctor was young—too young. Dr. Bradley had gone but said he’d return if anything should change or he was requested. Amelia didn’t know if his presence would help or not.
Behind the doctor stood Mrs. Dove-Lyon, veiled in black, like the specter of Death itself. Beside her was an unknown man of middling years.
“I wish to see your brother,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “Our deal hinges on his survival, and you will sign as his proxy. This is my barrister, Mr. Chambers.”
Amelia nodded. They entered Sam’s room, which seemed to shrink with so many bodies inside it.
“Should I summon Dr. Bradley?” Amelia asked the young doctor. He hadn’t yet introduced himself. He was oddly quiet, and Mr. Chase was ominously serious beside him.
Mr. Chase introduced the doctor. “Lady Amelia, this is Dr. Roland Sloan. He has agreed to help.”
“I will need help with such an arduous condition,” Dr. Sloan said. “But I’ve sent word to an acquaintance for assistance. I will attempt to save your brother under the explicit terms that you understand this is highly dangerous. I will not be held responsible for any outcome, including Lord Alston’s death, which I feel obligated to tell you, is the likely conclusion. However, this is an opportunity to advance our understanding of surgical methods and I shall take it.”
Amelia’s heart dropped as she nodded. “I understand. Please, just try.”
“Everything must be cleared around him.” The doctor touched Sam’s wrist. “His pulse is weak.”
Petrov nodded and gathered footmen to help clear the nightstand and other clutter around Sam. But Graham didn’t move.
“Sir?” The doctor raised a brow at him.
“Dr. Bradley suspects this is the location of the bleeding. I... I don’t know why I thought I should put pressure here. Only it seemed natural to plug a hole by putting something over it.” Graham shrugged helplessly.
“Your instincts are not unfounded, Mr. . . .?”
“Blakewood.”
“Remain as you are for now. I will inspect the area once I have everything prepared. If he is bleeding readily I will have to move quickly. What else can you tell me?”
Graham recounted everything that had happened the last several days, starting with the accident.
Amelia stepped back. The Widow sat at Sam’s table, Mr. Chambers at her side, and beckoned Amelia over.
“Let’s get this out of the way, shall we? First, I am sorry about your brother.”
Amelia nodded. “Thank you.”
“He is one of my favorite players, after all. So much potential in a young man should not be lost. I commend you for not giving up on him.”
“I’m very grateful you could help us.”
