He strode from the room.
The nerve of the man. Does he think I’m going to take orders like a dashed spaniel?
Pippa waited a heartbeat before following.
Cull and Molly moved at a purposeful pace through the twisting corridors. They disappeared into a room that Pippa recognized as the infirmary. She followed the voices past empty cots to a private room. Cull stood at the foot of a bed, arguing with a silver-haired man in a dark suit while Mrs. Needles and Fair Molly watched on. Behind them on the bed…
Pippa’s heart lurched as she recognized the young mudlark who’d surveilled her house…Ollie, his name was. He was scarcely recognizable as the adorable tow-headed boy who’d offered her a pork pie. His face was as white as the sheets tucked around him. A bandage was wound around his head, blood staining his tufts of fair hair. His chest moved in shallow waves, and one of his bare arms lay exposed atop the sheets. On the bed next to his frail limb lay an array of deadly-sharp blades.
“I am a respected physician with patrons in the highest circles.” The silver-haired man looked down his long nose at Cull, his manner patronizing. “You persuaded me to look at this patient, and I am telling you that he needs to be bled.”
“He’s lost enough blood as it is,” Mrs. Needles protested.
“Who are you going to listen to, this unqualified female”—the doctor gave the matron a contemptuous look—“or me?”
Cull raked a hand through his hair. “It took Mrs. Needles all night to stop the bleeding. And you want to start it up again? How will that help?”
“The theory is too complicated to explain to uneducated persons.” The doctor sniffed. “Suffice it to say, bloodletting will purge the boy’s fever. And whatever toxic miasma he is harboring from living in these filthy streets. If I am not allowed to do my job as I see fit, I will take my leave. This patient’s death will be on your hands.”
Cull’s frame vibrated with tension. His shoulders were taut, his hands fisted at his sides. He looked large and dangerous…and utterly at sea.
The Prince of Larks knew everything except, evidently, how to deal with a snob.
Pippa crossed the threshold. “You are not going to bleed this boy.”
The physician turned to her. He took obvious note of her expensive mourning gown and well-bred manner, and she could almost see the calculations running through his arrogant brain. Obsequiousness smoothed the sneer from his face; she couldn’t say it was an improvement.
“Were you addressing me, madam?” he asked with a fawning smile.
“Yes, and I think you had better go. Now,” Pippa clarified.
The physician turned florid. He shot an outraged look at her and then at Cull. “Sir?”
“Get out,” Cull said flatly.
The physician collected his instruments of torture. As Molly led him out, he issued a parting shot. “Good luck finding another learned man of medicine who will treat this street rat.”
“What a vile fellow,” Mrs. Needles declared when the door closed. “Thank goodness for your intervention, Mrs. Lumley.”
Pippa nodded but saw the strain that bracketed Cull’s mouth.
“He was the most qualified quack who would come to Devil’s Acre,” Cull muttered. “No one else wanted to dirty their hands with a mudlark.”
Mrs. Needles clutched her apron. “There must be someone better—"
“Send for Dr. Abernathy at 18 Harley Street,” Pippa said.
“Abernathy?” Mrs. Needles’s forehead pleated. “I have heard of him. He caters to the aristocracy—”
“He knows my family,” Pippa assured her. “As he provides care for the foundlings at my parents’ school, I can vouch that he is excellent with children. Tell him that Pippa, the Countess of Longmere, is requesting his presence on an urgent case; he will come.”
“Yes, Mrs.—I mean, my lady,” Mrs. Needles said hastily. “I’ll see to it straight away.”
The matron hurried off. Pippa went to Ollie’s bedside, tucking his arm back under the blanket. His skin was alarmingly cold to her touch.
“What happened to him?” she asked quietly.
Cull remained at the foot of the bed, his gaze on the boy’s pale face. “Someone knocked him on the head and dumped him in the river. Probably thought he was dead when they threw him in, but he must have regained his wits long enough to swim to shore.”
