“Yes. He promised to return after attending to another patient. He expressed the view that the popular practice of bloodletting would not aid him. There is nothing to be done except to apply cool compresses, which I have done. We must wait for the fever to break.”
“When did this fever develop?”
“Yesterday.”
He took hold of Laura’s hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“I understand. Redfern told me of your malaise.”
Dash it all, it made him seem like a cursed weakling. He shrugged. “Just a damnable headache.”
She studied his face. “And it has gone now?”
“Yes. You are too pale, Laura. Have you slept?”
“I grab a few hours when I can.”
“Go out into the fresh air. It will make you feel better.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“A walk before luncheon, please.”
She shook her head. “I don’t like to leave him, Debnam.”
“I’ll stay with him. Go.”
She nodded, warm gratitude in her blue eyes. “That is good of you. I shan’t be long.”
“The rose garden is in full bloom.”
“Is it? I am very fond of roses.”
But he doubted she’d walk that far. Or be in the right mood to enjoy it. “Robert is in good hands. Promise me you’ll take your time.”
“I will. You’ll send for me if his condition changes?” She put a hand to her disordered locks, loose strands curling against her neck. As if she’d only just become aware of it. He found it infinitely attractive, as if she were rumpled from sleep, and it made him think of her waking in his bed after a night of passion.
At the door, she turned. “You are a good man.”
It wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear from her, but he smiled. “Go.”
She closed the door behind her.
Robert moaned and turned over in bed, dragging the covers down. Brendan rose and went to straighten them.
“Water!”
Brendan raised the man’s head and held the cup to his dry, chapped lips. After Robert had taken a few sips, Brendan settled him down again. “Try to sleep.”
“Is it you, Father?” Robert asked.
He was delirious. A worrying sign. Brendan laid a hand on his forehead. It was fiery. A bowl of water and a cloth sat on the table beside the bed. He wrung it out and placed it on Robert’s forehead, only to have him whip it off again. Brendan replaced it and this time, the cloth stayed. Deeply concerned for the young baron, and especially for Laura, he prayed the doctor would soon return. Did Phillips have nothing in his bag of tricks to ease this man’s suffering?
A short time later, while Brendan observed the patient, the doctor hurried in, with Laura following.
“He drank a little water.” Brendan stood, relieved to see him. “I’ll leave him in your capable hands, Dr. Phillips.”
Brendan enjoyed Laura’s warm smile of gratitude before he went out the door. He doubted she’d walked as far as the rose garden. Perhaps he’d have the chance to show it to her himself.
