Ned wasn’t going to give him a sobriety lecture. His mother could do that. He dropped his guard and offered the duke a hand up. “That was a good match, Your Grace.”
Winderton’s head shot up as if to see if Ned was mocking him. He wasn’t.
“I didn’t expect a doctor to fight so hard.”
“I may have had more practice. You live in a boys’ school where everyone knows your mother is a whore, you learn quick.”
Winderton gave a begrudging smile and then frowned with a sniff. “What is that yellow stain on your shirt?”
Ned looked down. “Egg. Mrs. Estep has a temper. You owe her an apology, Your Grace. You all do,” he added, raising his voice.
The duke looked to Mrs. Estep sitting on the horse. He sighed and walked over to her. Her expression grew apprehensive until he stopped. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Estep, for my boorish behavior.” He looked to the others. “Come here. You need to show some manners.”
With that the other three made their apologies to Mrs. Estep. She sat as if in shock at the turn of events, her brows buckling in concern.
“Will you break your fast with us, Thurlowe?” the duke asked when he’d seen the last of his minions apologize.
Lingering any longer was the last thing Ned wanted to do. The weight of the duke’s blows were starting to make themselves known on his body. He kept his voice steady and cordial as he commented, “I wish I could, Your Grace. However, I am late for patients.”
“Ah, well, perhaps tomorrow.”
“Possibly. Thank you for asking.” On those words, Ned managed to mount Hippocrates. Ittook effort and he prided himself on looking reasonably good doing it.
“Thank you, gentlemen. Your Grace.” He gave a short bow and, lifting the reins, put them on their way. He didn’t ride far. Every step Hippocrates took was a jolt.
“What was that about?” Mrs. Estep demanded.
“Chickens,” he murmured.
“No, there was something else taking place. Why do men pound each other with their fists, and then shake hands as if nothing happened?”
“I fear you wouldn’t understand.”
“You are probably quite right. If someone hit me, I would be angry for ages—Wait, where are we going?”
Ned had set Hippocrates on the path to his favorite destination—a spring-fed pond a quarter of a mile off the road. Few beyond the locals knew of it because it was on Winderton’s land and because of the shelter of trees around it.
Reaching his destination, he brought Hippocrates to a halt, and then practically fell to the ground. He caught himself by grabbing the saddle. Every muscle hurt and all he could think about was relief.
Ned pulled off a boot, then another.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Estep asked.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have the energy.
When he’d finished the fight, he’d not bothered to put his coat or hat back on. Now he practically clawed at his neck cloth as he walked toward thepond. He tossed it on the ground. Then he pulled loose the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head.
“Mr. Thurlowe?What are you doing?”
His answer was to walk straight into the icy-fresh water of the pond.
Chapter Fourteen
Gemma watched Mr. Thurlowe march straight into the pond, uncertain if she trusted what her eyes were witnessing. She slid off the back of the horse, keeping the reins in her hand. Mr. Thurlowe disappeared completely under the water. It was as if the pond swallowed him whole.
She looked at the horse. The horse looked at her. “Does he do this often?”
Was it her imagination that the horse nodded? Then, he yanked on the reins, pulling his head down, letting her know he wished to graze. She held on, not knowing what to do.
