“Thank you, gentlemen.” Mr. Peckwood nodded at her handlers. Before they released her, he stepped nearly nose-to-nose with the woman, his gaze burning into hers. Placing his palms on her cheeks, he directed her face to his alone. “Now, now, Caroline, look here. You know me.”
The woman stiffened, her backbone a steel post. The light dimmed as the warden went about blowing out several candles. Quite the eerie effect. Amelia swayed closer to Mr. Lambert.
In the semidarkness, Mr. Peckwood spoke low and even. “What you are about to see is the calming of Miss Safie’s universal fluid. I shall interrupt the flow of madness and introduce the rational current of sanity. For this, I require absolute silence.”
“Pah!” Mr. Lambert huffed.
Amelia cast him a sideways glance, curious about the sudden spirited response, but she shoved down her question as a thick hush blanketed the room. She’d have to query him later.
Slowly, Mr. Peckwood pulled away from Miss Safie, but not far. Never far. At most, he kept his hands an inch from actually touching her. His fingers traced the entire outline of her body, from the curve of her hips, the arc of her thighs, even the swell of her chest. A queer ripple twinged in Amelia’s stomach. This was too intimate, too indecent a scene to be viewing! Especially with a room full of men looking on.
But the more Mr. Peckwood moved about the woman’s body, head to toe, toe to head, always maintaining an eye-to-eye connection with her, the more Miss Safie’s posture softened. Her lips closed placidly. Her breathing evened. Even the cords of muscles standing out on her neck melted away. So did the wildness in her eyes.
On silent feet, the doctor eased behind her and untied the bindings of her jacket. No one in the room moved. No one so much as inhaled as he carefully peeled it off her. He folded the fabric while once again mesmerizing her with his stare. “Should you like your medicine now, Caroline?”
She lifted her chin and calmly tucked back the loosened hair. “Yes, Doctor.”
A sharp gasp filled the room. She’d spoken! Not only that, but with the resonant tone of an angel.
Mr. Peckwood poured a white powder from one of the bottles into a spoon, then exchanged that for the other bottle and pulled out a dropper. Clear liquid fell like raindrops. Two. Three. Four drops. He stopped, returned the dropper, and lifted the spoonful up to the woman’s nose.
“Breathe deeply, Caroline,” he murmured. “Breathe slowly.”
Ever so slightly, she leaned over the spoon, like a flower seeking a sunray. With his free hand, Mr. Peckwood made little sweeping movements, wafting whatever scent the mixture carried directly into her nostrils.
After one inhale, the woman closed her eyes. After two, a smile, so sublime Amelia’s heart ached to witness it. And after three, Mr. Peckwood lowered the spoon and mixed the contents into the glass of liquid.
“Open your eyes, Caroline, and drink,” he commanded.
She obeyed.
Once she drained the cup, he took it from her and offered his hand. Her fingers rested delicately on his. “Now, would you be so kind as to greet the guests who have come here tonight?”
“Of course, Doctor.”
They turned in unison, facing the spectators, and Miss Safie dipped a curtsey elegant enough for court.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” She nodded towards Amelia. “And to you as well, my lady.”
Amelia’s jaw dropped. How could this be the same skittish woman of only minutes ago? The transformation was so complete. So impossible! She turned to say as much to Mr. Lambert.
But he was gone.
Disgust oozed like a raw wound, and no matter how much Graham gritted his teeth or paced the front drive, nothing stopped the festering of it. He’d known all along that Peckwood was not afraid to employ unorthodox procedures. That had been part of the reason he’d sought the man out in the first place. But this?
He kicked up a spray of gravel. Animal magnetism teetered on the very border of acceptability in the medical community. It was more showmanship than substance, leastwise from all he’d read. And because of such a fanciful presentation, the gullible men inside would open their purse strings as wide as their mouths had gaped. What an ill-fated day when he’d pleaded with Mr. Peckwood to take him on as a partner! God must surely be laughing at his stupidity. He glared at the night sky.Why? Why did You allow me to waste my life savings on that man?
“What are you doing out here?”
He wheeled about at the soft voice.
Amelia stood at the bottom of the front stairs, the asylum rising behind her like a black monolith in the night. The innocent tilt of her head cut to the bone. Of course she was curious as to why he wore a rut into the drive like a maniac. Why he’d abandoned her in a room full of men. She deserved an answer, and a comprehensive one at that.
But how was he to tell her that Peckwood had just presented a practically worthless medical procedure without planting a seed of doubt in her mind about the man’s capabilities? The very man who would be opening her brother’s skull in mere days. A few careless words might destroy her hope, obliterate her trust, and crush her dream of a new life for Colin. And possibly not only hers, but the man he’d come to love as a brother. Should he really do such a thing? But Peckwood was not to be trusted! Not after this. He ground his heels into the gravel, taking another lap. No, he couldn’t—he wouldn’t—shatter her hopes, but he could make sure to watch over Colin’s surgery with an eagle eye.
He stopped in front of her, forcing a pleasant tone to his voice—one that sickened his gut. “Forgive me, Miss Balfour, for my abrupt departure, but I believe it is high time we leave. The hour grows late, and your brother will be expecting you home. And so, I have summoned the carriage.”
“Pretty words, sir.” She folded her arms, her pert little nose rising with the movement. “But I am not leaving until you give me an explanation of why you walked out on what I can only describe as a miracle.”
