“We’re married now,” Amelia said.
Emotion stole his voice. Married? He hadn’t been there to give his sister away.
“When? Why?”
“The night of your surgery. We wanted you to be there. We didn’t know...” She clamped her mouth shut.
“If I would survive.” Sam finished for her. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be forced into a marriage.”
“There is no need for apology. We married because we wanted to,” Amelia said.
“We fell in love,” Blakewood said.
Stunned, Sam ripped his gaze away. His eyes burned. In love? They were in love after years of barely tolerating each other? He should be bloody thrilled, but he couldn’t manage excitement in this drowsy state. Something tore at his insides—confusion, exhaustion. A whip of fire lashed at his organs.
He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry I was not able to see it. What else should I know?”
“Aunt Ruth and Nelson have thoroughly ruined Amelia’s reputation,” Blakewood said. “They’ve revealed to society that I have been living here unchaperoned with Amelia while you were incapacitated.”
“Excellent,” Sam said dryly. His eyelids were already feeling heavy, but he fought it. He didn’t want to succumb to sleep again. He’d already missed so much.
“You should eat something of substance,” Dr. Sloan said. “Petrov, a broth soup with soft potato and bits of chicken will suffice.”
“Yes, doctor.” Petrov said.
Sam looked toward the foot of the bed. Petrov beamed at him and his eyes brightened with unshed tears.
Sam smiled weakly. “Greetings, old friend.” Sam could now remember the moments when he would smell cloves and shoe polish. Petrov had been close to him then. Taking care of him.
“No doubt you need a holiday,” Sam said.
“Not until you are strong enough to toss me from the room yourself,” Petrov said. He exited to fetch the meal.
Sam sighed, his stomach clenching and pain spearing him. But it wasn’t nearly as awful as before. He wiggled his feet and then his knees. His legs were pitifully weak, and even those small movements winded him.
“How long must I stay in bed?”
“As long as necessary,” Amelia said. Her face had gone pale. He could tell she’d been biting her nails with worry.
“You’ll regain your strength in time,” Dr. Sloan advised. “You must go slowly.”
“What do my insides look like?” Sam wondered, trying to lighten the mood for Amelia’s sake. She stared at him like he could disappear at any moment.
Dr. Sloan brightened as he grabbed a book. “Quite splendid. I’ve never had a body so young. Your organs are in supreme shape.” He flipped the book open and held it out to Sam.
Amelia stepped forward. “Don’t—” Amelia huffed angrily as Dr. Sloan set the book on Sam’s lap.
Sam wasn’t sure what he was looking at. An illustration of what appeared to be a corpse covered the page, flayed open like a fish. His skin went cold. “Is that me?”
“Indeed,” Dr. Sloan said.
He turned another page to what Sam presumed to be an organ was drawn in detail, including a spot where it was tied together. Sam looked at his own hand, nearly as pale as the paper his palm rested on. An unnerving color that sent an icy chill down his spine.
“You may not be aware of this,” Dr. Sloan said. “But I rendered my services under the condition that you will be in medical texts and discussed widely among the medical community. You are an advancement in surgical medicine. You will help save many lives to come.”
Sam’s queasiness faded at that. He swallowed and nodded. Dr. Sloan closed the book and set it aside.
“Who’s this?” Sam asked, nodding toward the brown-haired woman.
