Olivia turned her head and saw the physician standing near the foot of the bed. She frowned. “Has he come for me? Why?”
“He has come for me.” When she lifted an eyebrow, he added, “Because I want him to examine you.”
“You persist in the belief that you are amusing. You are not.”
Griffin glanced over his shoulder when Pettibone chuckled. “She is returning to form. It is perhaps best not to encourage her overmuch.”
The physician was wholly unrepentant. “Encouragement is precisely what she needs.”
“What do you know?” He returned his attention to Olivia. “Pettibone still bleeds his patients.”
A smile edged Olivia’s lips. “Go,” she said. “Leave us.”
Griffin found her hand, squeezed. “She thinks she will have her way with you, Pettibone. Encourage her if you must, but, pray, do not indulge her.”
Olivia waited until Griffin was gone before she pushed herself upright and gave the physician her wary, narrow-eyed regard. “You and I will deal well together if you remain where you are. I will also take it as the greatest favor if you never open your little black satchel.”
Pettibone made no promises. “I suppose that depends on what you tell me, but have a care, Miss Cole, for I have been known to recognize a lie.” He lifted his medical bag, dangling it as the proverbial carrot, and said pointedly, “I will take it as the greatest favor if you do not prevaricate.”
Griffin had a drink waiting for Pettibone when the physician came to make his report. “Well?” he asked. “What is your verdict?”
Pettibone set his bag down and accepted the tumbler of whiskey. He sipped, sighed with pleasure. Among all his patients, Breckenridge had the finest stores of liquor and was the most free with it.
“Verdict?” he asked. “You mistake me for a judge mayhap.”
“Most days I mistake you for a doctor. Give over, Pettibone. How is she?”
“Composed. Cautious. Afraid. She would never admit to the last, of course, but neither can she fully conceal it. Nothing was to be gained by pressing that observation, so I did not. She is correct, though, Breckenridge. There is nothing I can do for her. Laudanum might help herself sleep restfully, but it will not change her circumstances. She wonders what your intentions are toward her brother.”
“Her brother? Did she never once wonder what my intentions are toward her?”
“She did not mention it, no. Have you intentions?”
“I would not speak of them to you, now would I?”
Pettibone shrugged, sipped his whiskey.
“What does she imagine I will do to Mr. Cole?”
“I don’t know. She did not elaborate.”
“That is too bad. I would welcome ideas. At the moment, I am all for thrashing him.”
“A pedestrian solution. I expected better.”
“It is all in the execution, Pettibone. I could make it last a very long time and hardly bloody my knuckles.”
Impressed, Pettibone raised his glass in salute. “There is no reason she should know.”
“No reason at all.”
“He really left her in your hands?”
“So it appears. As I told you earlier, he only returned because I insisted.”
“She seemed to think it was because you threatened him.”
“That would be another way to characterize it.”
