“So . . . not a dream.”
“You could only wish.”
“How long?”
His brother sat cautiously on the opposite side of the bed. “Just over four hours.”
“Ah. A nice nap.”
“You were unconscious at the start. Asleep later.” Dr. Oakley released his wrist. “You have at least two broken ribs and a great deal of internal bruising. You had a dislocated shoulder that apparently reset itself when your brother and your butler picked you up to bring you upstairs. They heard a rather ominous popping sound.”
Mark glanced at Matthew. “Thank you. I think.”
“Also a mild concussion, and possibly a crack in the bone around your left eye.”
“And I thought the headache was just from Mother.”
“Damn it,” Matthew muttered, as he stood again.
Mark tried to force a grin. “Would you expect any less?”
Dr. Oakley cleared his throat. “There may be some good news out of this.”
Mark swung his gaze back to the doctor.
“If the timing of events are as I’ve been led to believe, I can reassure the Bow Street Runner who is handling Miss Ashley’s case that you could have in no way killed her. I will insist he make that well known.”
Phyllida gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
Matthew’s voice was a low growl. “How can you be sure?”
“Because with the injuries he has sustained, whatever the cause, he would have not had the strength or physical ability to strangle a healthy woman. They called me in before she was transported to the morgue. Miss Ashley had been a patient of mine, as is her mother and daughter, and Bow Street wanted to spare her mother or her young housemaid the duty of identifying Miss Ashley. I saw her injuries, and now I have seen yours.”
Phyllida coughed.“An actresswas your patient?”
Dr. Oakley nodded, then looked down at Mark, eyebrows arched.
Mark attempted a shrug, but it hurt too much. “I paid for it. I wanted her to have the best.”
Phyllida turned away, hand still pressed to her mouth. Matthew’s eyes gleamed with a question, and Mark merely nodded. Once. Then winced.
A smile flitted across Dr. Oakley’s face, then vanished. He stood, addressing Mark. “I am leaving the laudanum, just in case. You know the dangers, so no more than twice a day, and for no longer than three days. I showed His Grace the dosage. After that, willow bark tea will help with the pain. Mostly you need a great deal of rest, preferably with no movement for a few days.” He packed up a few instruments that had been spread across the foot of the bed, then left the room, leaving the three Rydells to stare at each other.
After a moment, Matthew took a deep breath. “I’ll see the doctor out, then bring the servants up to date and ask for some of that tea to be sent up.”
Phyllida scowled. “Why tell the servants?”
Matthew patted her arm. “Because rumors flow in both directions. Although I suspect the tale of his innocence will not be as enticing to spread along.”
As Matthew closed the door, his mother moved closer to the bed, something akin to compassion and curiosity in her eyes.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked.
“It is not about belief—”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” She stepped closer. “But probably not for the reasons you might think.”
