Kate crossed her arms. “We must make sure it doesn’t.”
He sniffed, taking umbrage at her criticism. “There’s nothing more I can do. It’s up to his lordship now. Let’s hope he wants to live.”
The surgeon’s callous response infuriated her. As Kate had been uneasy about the high dosage of laudanum, she sought the village doctor’s opinion.
“I dislike accusing a colleague of error, your ladyship,” Doctor Keith said.
Kate frowned. No doubt he feared trouble from a London surgeon and did not wish to be held accountable for a marquess’ life. “Any opinion you offer will remain with me, Doctor Keith.”
“I would lessen the dosage. It seems to me Lord St. Marlin should be coming around. Does no good that I can see to keep him so heavily sedated.”
“And what is your opinion about bleeding him?”
“If he were my case, I wouldn’t. Not at this stage. But I can’t attend him, my lady. Much as I’d like to.”
Kate dismissed the surgeon and took to caring for Robert herself. Because of Doctor Keith’s advice, she reduced the dosage and would stop it altogether over the next few days. Robert began to drink more of the nourishing broth she’d requested. Kate sent James to the village herbalist for calendula cream, which had healing properties, and white willow bark to help with pain, for it would increase once she stopped the laudanum.
She regularly bathed Robert’s face and hands with lavender water, changed his bandage herself but saw no sign that the infection had worsened. But his forehead remained hot and dry, and his restlessness increased.
During the next night, he began to sweat. She sponged him with cool water and had James change his nightshirt several times. It became difficult to soothe Robert and keep him still. At his every toss, her heart stopped, afraid he would reopen his wound.
By the end of the eighth day, he calmed. He managed a little bread with the broth, then slept deeply again.
On the ninth day, his brow was cool. Her moment of exhilaration quickly passed. Was it a sign he was getting better? Or worse? She still watched him, her eyes gritty with tiredness.
On the tenth day, Kate woke as dawn painted the sea gold. She rose quickly from her makeshift bed on the chair and stretched her aching back.
Robert’s pulse was steady and strong. As she held him, his fingers curled around hers, making her gasp. Her gaze flew to his face. “You’re awake!”
“How long have I been here?”
“Several days.” Relief made her hand tremble as she felt his brow. Pleasantly warm.Thank heaven. “Normal.” She gave a long shuddering sigh, smiling into the face she loved. Not the Robert of old quite yet with a dark beard and bloodshot blue eyes. But then, nor was she entirely herself. In fact, she must look a fright. She put a hand up to order her hair, then stopped. Rebecca was needed.
“You look perfectly lovely, if a little tired,” he said gruffly and reached for her hand. His brow creased. “My fault, I fear.” He gave her hand a shake. “You’ve been going without sleep.”
“I’ve managed a little.”
“When did you sleep in your bed last?”
“I preferred to be here in case you needed me.” Her lips trembled and tears blurred her vision. She hadn’t cried since that first day they’d brought him here. She’d been too intensely devoted to making him well. And she’d been afraid to, for crying seemed so final, as if it would seal his fate.
His lip curved in a smile. “You can climb in here with me. Far more comfortable than the chair.”
She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and laughed, withdrawing her hand to straighten his bedcover. “You must be hungry. I’ll ring for food.”
“In a minute. I want to talk to you.”
“Let me get you brandy first.”
Kate rose and poured a little brandy from the decanter into a glass adding water. She returned and slipped an arm around his shoulders to help him drink it.
He drank half a glass and sank back down again gratefully. “I need to talk to you.”
She leaned forward, her eyes taking in every loved feature, his teeth white beneath cracked, dry lips, his angular jaw badly in need of a razor, his dark hair in a tangle on the pillow. “We can talk later. You must eat.” She stood to pull the bell sash.
“No. Do as I say, Kate.” He grunted. “Sit down. I have something to say.” A muscle tightened in his jaw.
Her heart beating fast, she obeyed him, sitting back down, afraid of what he might say. To delay, she smoothed his sheets. “I must get these changed, now we can move you.”
