“Therein lies the heart of the matter.” Peckwood shook his head. “I do not now, nor ever, wish to partner with anyone.”
No surprise there. The man’s letter had revealed as much. Graham clenched his jaw. If he could not persuade this visionary of medical thinking, there’d be no way to convince a more traditional surgeon to associate with him, and he’d be on his own. Without funding to furnish a full practice. Left with no choice but to roam about as a traveling healer, offering legitimate services to a distrusting public.
There was nothing for it then but to fire his biggest gun. Would that it might not misfire! He clenched the lapels of his coat. “Taking me on, sir, would free you up from your office commitments, and your work at St. Peter’s would move forward at an exponential rate—a work we both know could change the field of medicine forever.”
The older fellow gaped. “What the devil would you know about that?”
Graham swallowed. Exactly. What did he know other than that he’d spied the man coming and going at odd hours from the warden’s office at the asylum? Still, he’d not learned to bluff a hand of cards in the wardroom for nothing.
“Come now, sir.” He patted Peckwood’s arm. “You think I would so easily invest my life’s savings to associate with a man I did not first research?”
Peckwood harrumphed. “You are canny, Mr. Lambert.”
“I am determined, Mr. Peckwood.”
“That is more than apparent.” The man smiled, then sobered, his gaze locking onto Graham’s. “But you should know I am a greater force with which to be reckoned. While your former captain highly recommends your work and your character, enough so that he was able to save you from the disgrace of a dishonourable discharge, it seems even his good word was not enough to thwart your administrative dismissal from His Majesty’s Navy.”
Air whooshed from Graham’s lungs. Blast! The man had done his due diligence as well. Fighting the urge to tuck tail and retreat into the public house, he planted his feet. “I own my past sins, yet in the future I vow that no matter how righteous, my anger shall never best me again.”
“I commend you for such an indomitable resolution.” Peckwood sniffed, his long nose wrinkling. “Yet intention never negates risk.”
“No man can claim to be risk-free, and if he does, he lies. I am no saint, Mr. Peckwood. I am a surgeon, highly skilled and ambitious, two traits which will serve you and the practice well.”
“Your candor is refreshing.” Peckwood eyed him with a sharp gaze, and Graham got the distinct impression the fellow examined and diagnosed every fault he could find, from the crooked knot in his cravat to the scuff on his left shoe.
“But I am curious, Mr. Lambert. There is a plethora of other surgeons in this wide world of ours. Why such dogged resolve to add your name to the shingle above my door?”
A fair question, one that Graham had given weeks of research to before deciding whose fate to entwine with his own. “It is no secret you are a visionary.” He shrugged. “Your work with Sir Humphry Davy on the anesthetic properties of nitrous oxide is revolutionary. The article you wrote did not receive the recognition it should have, and I daresay if it had, even now the medical community would be pursuing a more humane way of conducting surgeries.”
Peckwood’s jaw dropped. “Are you an avid reader of obscurity, then?”
“I am an avid reader, period.”
A great chuckle rumbled in Peckwood’s throat. “So serious, Mr. Lambert. I wonder if your bedside manner is as grim.”
“I am exemplary with patients, I assure you.”
“Hmm,” Peckwood drawled. “I suppose that will prove out.”
Willprove? His heart faltered a beat. “Sir?”
For a long moment—one that could suck the soul right out of a body—Peckwood stared off into the night sky. As the man’s silence prolonged, hoots and hollers rang from the public house. Tackle clinked and clanked on ships moored for the night. All the while, hope and trepidation rocked Graham’s gut like contrary waves battering either side of a vessel.
“Well, Mr. Lambert,” Peckwood said at length, “being that you come with the highest of praise from your captain and, I suspect, will continue to hound me should I refuse your proposition, I agree to a three-month probationary period, at which point either I shall take you on as a full partner or send you on your way and pocket your deposit. But know this…”
A different man looked out from Peckwood’s eyes. Nay, a demon. One that crawled under Graham’s skin and burned a trail down his spine.
“There is a reason I have never had a partner, for I am a particularly private man. My personal life and my current medical research at St. Peter’s have no part in our agreement and are off-limits to your inquiry. Is that quite understood?”
“Without question.” And without hesitation. If Peckwood were occupied in his own pursuits, there’d be less chance he’d muddle about in Graham’s. “Besides, I imagine I will be more than busy with office calls and home visits.”
“Ha ha! Not to mention manning the surgery on your own each Thursday. I suppose with you about, it will free me up to pursue investors for a certain procedure I am developing.”
Graham shoved out his hand before the fellow could change his mind. “Will you shake on it, then?”
Peckwood gazed at his fingers, mind clearly whirring, before finally clasping his hand. “See you tomorrow morning at eight sharp, Mr. Lambert, at which point we shall iron smooth the financial and other details. Good night.”
Bypassing Graham, the older surgeon hefted himself up into his gig.
