“He promised he would and I believed him.” It was the best assurance she could give.
“Then let us do what we can to solve this problem so he can commence evacuation of the sick as soon as possible,” Coventry said.
“I have these advertisements Florian gave me.” Juliette placed the cutouts on the table so the men could take a look. “Perhaps they can be of some use?”
“It is a start,” Coventry said. “I also have some merchant contacts. I will seek their counsel immediately.” He stood, as did Raphe.
“See to the merchants and leave the advertisements with me,” Raphe said. “Shall we reconvene here tonight at ten?”
Coventry nodded. He bid Juliette farewell, and Raphe escorted him out before closeting himself away in his study with his secretary.
Anxious for all their efforts to yield results and having nothing to do until they did, Juliette went to retrieve her next reading material from one of the shelves. She would continue her medical studies by delving into Cowper’sAnatomy of Humane Bodiesso she could impress Florian a little bit more the next time they met.
“Having Armswell poisoned was not as efficient as I had hoped,” Bartholomew said when he finished counting the bank notes Mr. Smith had printed for him that morning. “It got Lowell involved.”
“Yes. That is an unfortunate turn of events, but at least he’s chasing the wrong lead.”
Bartholomew knew this. It was the maid Claire had taken on six months earlier who’d carried out his command, not the footman Lowell had had arrested. He was just a convenient scapegoat.
“Nevertheless, I’d like to make sure he doesn’t discover this fact.”
Mr. Smith nodded. “What do you propose?”
Leaning back in his chair, Bartholomew reached for a cigar, clipped off the end and lit it. He set it to his lips and inhaled deeply. Puffing out a ribbon of smoke, he considered his options. “Lowell has to go.” He contemplated the best way to make this happen efficiently and discreetly. An idea emerged, stretching his mouth into a wide smile. “Find out who the best shot is among the peerage and make sure the man knows that Lowell is tupping his wife.”
Chapter 17
Juliette knew the moment Florian arrived at the Stokes Ball because of the pompous announcement made by the majordomo. She hadn’t seen him in almost a week, during which his life had changed forever. He was officially a duke now, and as such it took him an eternity to reach her, Gabriella and Raphe, even though they weren’t standing far from the entrance.
“Your Grace,” Raphe said by way of greeting.
Florian visibly flinched. “Please refrain from formalities, Huntley. If my friends stop addressing me in the manner to which I have grown accustomed, I truly believe I might hang myself.”
Raphe nodded. “Understood. It goes without saying that my family and I would like to convey our condolences on the loss of your uncle.”
“Thank you.” Heartache marred Florian’s features before he managed to rein in the emotion and bury it deep beneath his unflappable façade. “Thank you for helping me procure a ship, Huntley. Because of you, your sister and Coventry, we were able to quarantine everyone showing symptoms of typhus.”
“I’m glad it suits your needs,” Raphe said.
Florian nodded. “We had it readied three days ago and the patients brought onboard. They raised anchor this afternoon and ought to have reached the Channel by now.”
“How expedient.” It was all Juliette could think to say, considering the speed with which the solution had been implemented now that he also had funeral arrangements to make. In fact, it surprised her he was here instead of observing the customary three months of mourning the loss of an uncle usually required. But knowing he thought himself a physician first and keeping in mind his dedication to his profession, he must have decided he had no time for such consideration at present.
Alerted by her comment, he gave her his full attention. “I always strive to make the most of my time.” The edge of his mouth rose. “With that in mind, I do believe I owe you a waltz, my lady. Unless someone else has already claimed it.”
A flash of heat crept over Juliette’s face, so she deliberately broke eye contact with the pretense of searching her reticule for her dance card. “We have only recently arrived so the waltz is still available.” Retrieving the card, she held it toward him.
He took it from her, studied it closely and handed it back, the tips of his fingers brushing hers so swiftly and yet so completely it sent a fleet of shivers sailing down her spine.
“Did your sister mention her idea to create a steady revenue for St. Agatha’s?” Florian asked Raphe, the calmness of his voice conveying not a single iota of what Juliette had just felt in response to his touch.
She envied him the ability to remain so collected. Judging from his demeanor right now, it looked as though her effect on him was on par with how a single star might affect the cosmos—without particular notice.
So she pulled back her shoulders and decided to exude a similar degree of placidity. “I wanted to wait until I came up with a feasible solution.”
“Maybe you could offer an exclusive service for the wealthy and use the income to fund the hospital,” Gabriella said. “Like a luxurious spa-like retreat here in London, so people don’t have to go all the way to Bath.”
“A spa would require a mineral spring, but I think I see where you’re going with this,” Florian said. “The business would offer physical relaxation techniques and the client would leave with a sense of rejuvenation.”
