Blakewood stood and walked toward the door but hesitated. He pivoted to face Sam. “But I want you to promise me that if you do need help, you won’t be too stubborn to ask for it. Needing help doesn’t make you weak. Shall we all dine together tonight?”
Sam nodded. “That would be nice. I can hardly remember what your sister looks like. How old is she?”
Blakewood smirked. “She is nineteen. She hasn’t changed much since you last saw her two years ago. I’ll return shortly.”
Petrov gathered the remaining supplies, watching Sam with a frown. “Their concerns come from their hearts.”
“I know. I don’t fault them for loving me. It’s Amelia’s fear that is ruling her decisions, and Blakewood follows her lead because that is what a good husband does. She can’t think rationally where I’m concerned, but I can’t let that stop me. I know in time my body will heal, but this bloody bargain...” Sam rubbed a hand over his freshly shaven jaw, pinching his bottom lip in aggravation. “This is a wound that will never close. I can’t help but feel betrayed. Like I’ve lost something I held so dear without even knowing how much I wanted it. I don’t even know this woman and yet I resent her already.”
The clatter of books hitting the floor filled the room. Sam and Petrov turned their heads to where Miss Smith kneeled to pick up the books, her face beet red.
“I’m sorry, my lord.” She had two small trunks in front of her.
“What are those books you’re packing?” Sam asked.
“My medical texts,” Dr. Sloan answered from Sam’s desk. “It’s time I left. There’s nothing more I can do for you. I’ll return periodically to note your progress, but I must return to my students.”
Sam blinked at him in surprise. “I’m barely out of this bed and you’re leaving? Amelia won’t have it.”
Dr. Sloan shrugged. “Dr. Bradley will resume his duties. Now that the surgery is healed, he can oversee the remainder of your care. Rib fractures are too banal for my expertise.”
Banal? Sam would have laughed but it would hurt too much. “What about my weakness? The dizziness?”
“Again, not my forte. I cut things open and close them up. I’d greatly appreciate if you would journal your continued recovery for me.” He approached and handed Sam a leather-bound journal.
Sam flipped it open to the first blank white page. “What am I supposed to write?”
“Anything related to your physical body.”
“Such as?”
Dr. Sloan shrugged again, and Sam rolled his eyes.
“Dr. Bradley will be of help.”
Sam sobered and considered Dr. Sloan. Even he had to admit that the physician’s presence was a comfort on some level, but this was good. If Dr. Sloan was comfortable leaving, it meant Sam was one step closer to full health.
“Thank you for saving my life.” He didn’t think he’d miss the odd doctor, but they would always be connected.
Dr. Sloan nodded. “Thank you for providing the opportunity. You’ve changed medicine for the better.”
At least he’d done something beneficial in all this time spent on his back. “I’d like to continue to help.”
“I’m not certain you’d survive a second time.”
Sam smiled. “I mean financially. I’d like to invest in your work, Dr. Sloan.”
Dr. Sloanalmostsmiled. His eyes brightened. “Your patronage would be most welcome, my lord. I look forward to seeing you return to full health.”
Chapter Eight
Lady Amelia linkedelbows with Daisy as they strolled around a lovely duckpond in a small, secluded park by Alston House. Weeping willows dotted the edge, their tendrils tickling the water’s surface. Daisy lifted her face to the sun, enjoying the warmth and fresh air after spending two whole days in bed. She hadn’t enjoyed such idle quiet in so long.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Lady Amelia said. “The more I think about it, I realize we all needed a pleasant distraction.”
Daisy nodded. She certainly knew she needed all the distraction she could get. That morning she’d received a response from Lady Claystone, a remarkably clipped reply that left Daisy with a foreboding sense of doom.
Miss Blakewood,
