At length, she perched her bare foot on the stool.“You may proceed, Mr. Lambert.” Then, apparently done with him, she peered up at Peckwood. “It was my father’s last wish and is of the utmost importance that my brother undergo your procedure as soon as possible. Does tomorrow suit?”
Plucky indeed. He hid a smile.
“Amelia!”
Graham carefully inspected her bruised toes. Breath hissed through her teeth. From his touch or the reprimand in her brother’s tone?
“Mr. Peckwood is not one of your baggage handlers to be ordered about,” the big man grumbled. “Once again, Doctor, you must pardon my sister.”
“No need.” Peckwood chuckled. “She merely asked a question. An inquisitive mind is never to be condemned.”
Graham peeked at Miss Balfour’s face, but no hint of embarrassment pinked her cheeks. Her big brown eyes merely held steady upon the men in front of her, though there was no denying the glassy sheen to her gaze. Nor did he miss the perspiration glistening on her fair skin or the white knuckles gripping the chair arms. His methodical prodding clearly hurt, yet not a whimper escaped her lips. He’d seen yeomen squeal for lesser grievances.
Satisfied with his prognosis, he gently eased her injured toes to the stool. “You are lucky, Miss Balfour, that your entire foot didn’t break, or worse, considering the weight of that carriage. You could have been permanently maimed. I did not detect any broken bones, but that does not necessarily rule out some small fractures, especially judging by the amount of bruising and swelling. You’ll lose several toenails, I’m afraid, but after a week or two of immobility by elevation and padded wraps, you should see vast improvement.”
“But that is impossible.” Her doe eyes blinked, completely dumbfounded. “I cannot remain stationary for such a length of time.”
“Oh? Have you some pressing matters to attend?”
“Yes, I—I mean, Colin will need me.” Her lips flattened, and then she did blush in full, perfectly pink and stunningly becoming against her previous pallor. Bending, she hastily worked on her stocking, jaw clenched tight.
Interesting. Graham narrowed his eyes, studying her movements. Was she concealing something more than a throbbing foot?
“Mr. Peckwood.” Colin Balfour’s deep voice drew Graham’s attention from sister to brother. The man massaged the back of his neck with a meat hook of a hand, clearly agitated. “I have a few questions before agreeing to the surgery.”
Miss Balfour sat ramrod straight. “But, Colin, you know Father wished—”
Her brother held up his hand, staving her off, and faced Peckwood. “What is it that you intend to do?”
Graham looked from sister to brother. Were they not in agreement on the matter?
“In layman’s terms, Mr. Balfour, I shall set up Mr. Lambert here”—he tipped his head at Graham—“with equipment to administer a series of treatments to prepare your mind and body for what will be an innovative and, I daresay, historic operation. Afterwards, I fully expect your deviant growth not only to stop but to be reversed. You and generations following will own the hope of a perfectly normal life.”
Mr. Balfour frowned, the crevices on his face folding into deep crags. Quite the ghoulish effect.
“Pardon, but how exactly is that to be accomplished?” Concern sharpened Miss Balfour’s tone.
Graham rose from his crouch, eyeing the man. Naturally, excess skin could be removed. Some straightening of bones accomplished. Perhaps there could even be minimal success with the right ointments and salves to relax the rippling on half of his face. But Peckwood expected this man to live a normal life by shrinking him to a standard size? How could he possibly achieve that?
“If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat, Mr. Balfour.”Peckwood strolled to a table behind the sofa and indicated that Colin Balfour should sit directly in front of him—which he did.
“My associate, Mr. Lambert, will visit daily to administer pinpointed electrical shocks here and here.”The doctor’s fingers skimmed the thick eyebrow of the man’s left eye, then slid his touch over to the puckered skin near his temple. “Hmm. This scarring could prove a challenge. How long ago did this injury occur?”
“I was a child at the time,” said Mr. Balfour. “Three, I believe.”
“Four,” his sister corrected.
“Of course. You should know better.” A slight smile wavered on the man’s wide lips before disappearing. “I’d wandered into the kitchen and pulled down a pot of boiling water off the range.”
“Which frightened the life from us all and nearly cost my brother his.” Miss Balfour pinned Mr. Peckwood with a direct stare. “Will the scarring be a problem, Mr. Peckwood?”
“Yes, but not one I cannot overcome. My method, combined with an elixir that thickens the blood and loosens the skin, will lay the groundwork for the day I will remove a portion of Mr. Balfour’s skull and disconnect the faulty gland that is responsible for such a deformity. At which point, I will replace the bone, sew you up”—he patted Balfour on the shoulder—“and in a month or possibly two, your body should return to the size and shape of a regular man.”
Graham rubbed his jaw. He’d known Peckwood to be a vanguard in the medical field, butthis? “Have you performed such a procedure before, Doctor?”
The instant the question flew from his tongue he knew it was a mistake. Possibly a fatal one, considering Peckwood’s black glower.
“Of course, Mr. Lambert. I have found it to be highly effective in reducing abnormalities in rats.”
