Gripping the chair arms, she eased her wounded foot off the foot-stool, intending to meet head-on the men who held Colin’s fate, but her brother shook his head at her.
“You will forgive my sister for not rising, sirs. She is momentarily incapacitated. Please, sit down.” He skimmed his fingers towards the adjacent settee.
Though it pained her, Amelia refused to prop up her foot in the presence of these strangers. To remain sitting was breach of etiquette enough.
Yet she needn’t have given that a second thought. The white-haired man who strolled into her circle of vision took no note of her whatsoever.
“Oh, my…”he murmured as he orbited Colin.“Simply magnificent!”
Magnificent?Amelia’s brows shot skyward. How unusual. Then again, the fellow dissecting Colin was decidedly unusual himself. The doctor was of compact build, soft in the face and white of hair, like a great pile of cotton batting heaped upon a warehouse floor. A peculiar scent wafted from him, a mix of peppermint and ammonia. Sapphire eyes sat wide atop a nose with an alpine slope, and he wore his cravat tied tight to his chin, as if any sort of loosening might cause his head to tumble off.
He circled again, analyzing Colin with continued mumblings, not once glancing in her direction. No surprise though, really. Her brother was far more remarkable. She was as common as a door latch, or so she’d been told many times by her father. He’d never thought her marriageable material—a blessing to her career, but her self-regard? Hardly.
Colin endured the doctor’s perusal with his usual grace, allowing the fellow to get his fill, which apparently he gained upon completion of his third round. “I am pleased to meet you at long last, Mr. Balfour. I must say you are even more marvelous than your father described in his correspondence. Oh! Dear me. What a boor.”
He pivoted her way so fast, his shoulder-length hair flew about his ears like a cloud of dandelion fluff. “I am afraid it is I who must beg your pardon, Miss Balfour, so rudely have I ignored you, especially after your brother clearly stated you suffer from some sort of malady. Tell me, dear lady, is there anything I can do for you that may correct your incapacitation?”
No. Absolutely not. The more time spent fussing about with her, the further put off was Colin’s procedure—and the less chance she’d have of making that ship to Cairo. She smiled up at the doctor as if the blazing fire in her foot didn’t exist.“No need, Mr. Peckwood. I suffer nothing but a trifle. Let us speak only of my brother’s upcoming surgery.”
“As you wish.” He dipped a small bow. “Then allow me to introduce my newly acquired partner, Mr. Lambert, recently of His Majesty’s Naval Service.”
A tall man—though still thoroughly dwarfed by Colin—strode forward. “Mr. Balfour. Miss…” His eyes widened as he locked gazes with her. “You!”
Him?
Amelia bit her lip to keep her jaw from dropping. The man from the dock last night—the one who’d not been so easily put off.
Casting aside any modicum of propriety, he immediately crouched at her side. “I knew you were injured, and this time I will not take no for an answer. If I do not miss my mark, your foot grieves you. Am I correct, Miss Balfour?”
Hazel eyes stared into her own, more brown than green at the moment, yet she got the distinct impression they could change at will, for such was the determination in his commanding tone. He was not handsome per se, not in a worldly sense. Nothing about him smacked of style or refinement. Yet he was not altogether unpleasing to the eye and, in truth, was attractive in an earthy sort of way. Decidedly masculine, with his defined brow, thick, wide lips, a slightly crooked nose, and a trimmed beard. Obviously, the doctor cared nothing for convention, for most Englishmen would wear only long side-whiskers, not a full face of dark bristles. He could do with a good haircut as well, for untamed locks hung loose against his neck.
Botheration! What a rabbit trail. Why and how Mr. Lambert chose to present himself to the world was none of her business. She straightened her spine, taking care not to jostle her leg. “My toes are bruised, sir. Nothing more. And since I will not consent to a leeching, there is no need to speak further on the matter. Besides, we are gathered here to discuss my brother.”
Colin frowned down at her. “Even so, Amelia, it would put my mind at ease if you would let the doctor render his opinion. It is all I ask.”
“And you may putyourmind at ease, Miss Balfour, for I don’t happen to have any leeches with me at the moment.” Mr. Lambert winked at her.
Winked!
She sucked in a breath. How astoundingly brazen of the fellow. What sort of shameless man was this Mr. Lambert? Were all of them? Surely they didn’t expect her to take off her stocking here in front of God and man.
She shook her head. “I hardly think this is the place to—”
“We are medical men, Miss Balfour, and he is family.” Mr. Lambert tipped his head at Colin. “There is no indiscretion, only concern for your well-being.”
Her gaze drifted from one man to another, all three unwavering in their resolve. She slid her hand to the feather in her pocket, expecting the thing to have vanished. But no. What kind of luck was this? Her familiar talisman was still there yet, surprisingly, no help whatsoever.
“Very well,” she huffed. “Examine me if you will, but please do not allow this to detract from the scheduling of my brother’s procedure. That is, after all, why we are here.”
Mr. Lambert’s dark eyebrows lifted skyward, and though the expression ought not rankle her, it did. She knew that look. She’d seen it too many times. The man thought her too forward. Too independent and outspoken. The very reason no man would take her as a bride. But so be it.
Her duty was to Colin alone.
Of all the pluck! Miss Balfour’s resolve was as extraordinary as her brother’s abnormal physiognomy.
Graham stared unabashed at the sprite in the chair as she gingerly rolled off her stocking, taking great care to keep her leg hidden. What an odd mix of propriety and bullheaded determination, one he wasn’t quite sure he ought to admire. For certain, she was no sheepish miss. In fact, the raven-haired Miss Balfour was as disconcerting in daylight as she had been the previous night.
But this time he would help her whether she liked it or not, which clearly she didn’t, if the pucker of her lips were any indication.
