“For God’s sake. I only want her name. You needn’t make it sound as though I have questionable intentions.”
Florian sighed. “Fine. If you can describe her to me, I might be able to help.”
Pleased, Henry couldn’t stop from smiling. Especially not when he thought of the woman he’d seen. “She’s fair with golden hair and eyes the loveliest shade of blue I have ever seen.”
“Ah. I believe you must be referring to Emily.”
Henry frowned. It was almost as if his brother sounded relieved. “Emily...” What a lovely name. “Thank you, Florian. I promise not to flirt with her too much.” Florian gave him a quelling look to which Henry laughed and immediately flinched in response to the pain it caused. “You should go. Your ability to amuse me today is not helping with my recovery.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Florian asked, ignoring his comment. “Perhaps—”
“No.” He shook his head adamantly. “Take the next ship to France, Florian. Enjoy your holiday in Paris with Juliette. I shall be perfectly fine until you get back.”
Florian stared down at him for a lengthy moment and finally nodded. “Very well then. I will see you in roughly one month.” He moved as if considering an embrace but froze and, pulling back, simply reached for Henry’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Take care of yourself, brother. And please, do try to stay out of trouble.”
Henry smiled with deliberate mischief. “Of course, Florian. You can count on me to do precisely that.”
With a soft scoff and a shake of his head, Florian strode from the room, leaving Henry to think about what to say the next time he saw Emily.
Chapter 2
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Viola considered her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a firm nod. She looked acceptable. Not pretty by any means, but then again, who needed prettiness in a place where cleanliness, precision and expediency were of the highest value?
With one final look at herself, she picked up her spectacles and placed them in the pocket of her skirt before leaving her office. It was time for her to make her rounds, and with Florian’s departure the day before and the promise she’d made to look after his brother, she would need to check up on Mr. Lowell. According to Emily, he’d slept since yesterday afternoon, which meant he’d gotten a good sixteen hours of rest at least.
Passing a room shared by four female patients, Viola stepped inside and saw that Mrs. Richardson was awake.
“How are you this morning?” Viola asked the older woman, who’d fallen from a ladder and broken her leg two days earlier.
Mrs. Richardson pulled back the cover and wiggled her toes. “Feeling better already,” she said with a cheerful smile, and Viola saw that the bandages wrapped around her leg to hold the splints in place had been painted in bright displays of color.
“Who’s the artist?” Viola asked in a whisper so as not to wake the other women who still slept.
“Yours truly,” Mrs. Richardson replied. “My daughter brought me my watercolors the day before yesterday. She said she heard something about Viscount Armswell’s son, Mr. Lowell, being brought in around the time she arrived—mentioned him having been shot?”
“Hmm... You know I cannot discuss other patients with you, do you not?” She’d have to find out which of her staff members had betrayed Mr. Lowell’s identity loud enough for others to hear.
“So that would be a yes to my question,” Mrs. Richardson said with a satisfied smile. “Doesn’t really surprise me, all things considered.”
Unable to stop her curiosity, Viola took a step closer to Mrs. Richardson’s bed. “You know him then?”
“No. Of course not. His family’s much too high in the instep for the likes of me.”
That was what Viola had suspected. Mrs. Richardson didn’t seem particularly well off, even if she was able to afford watercolors.
“One does hear things, however,” Mrs. Richardson went on. “From what I have learned, Mr. Lowell is a proper scoundrel. I’ve a friend who’s employed by the Dowager Marchioness of Wentworth as her companion and she claims to have seen Mr. Lowell at various social gatherings. According to her, he’s always flirting with one woman or another. Says she even thinks he may have intended to proposition the Duchess of Coventry before she married the duke. Saw him sticking a bit too closely to her side a couple of Seasons ago. Claims it was all rather distasteful, seeing as Her Grace had just come from the slums and all that. Lowell was like a tiger just waiting to pounce.”
Viola didn’t like anything about that description. “Perhaps he genuinely liked her,” she suggested, “and was simply trying to be friendly without any ulterior motive.” Her loyalty toward Florian prompted her to defend his brother in spite of her own opinion of him, which wasn’t much different from Mrs. Richardson’s.
Mrs. Richardson gave her a dubious look. “He took up with Viscount Blithe’s widow after that, and the viscount had only been dead one week. Not to mention his affair with Lady Elmwood last year.”
Mrs. Richardson pressed her lips together as if intending to stop from saying anything more. But then she quickly continued. “My friend says Mr. Lowell has two extra houses in London—one where he keeps his mistress and the other where he conducts his affairs with unassuming young women.”
Viola bit her lip to stop from laughing. She leaned toward the older woman in a conspiratorial way. “You make it sound as if he’s a predator luring the innocent into his lair.”
“Suffice it to say that I have it on good authority Mr. Lowell enjoys the company of women excessively. So much in fact, it’s likely to get him killed one day if he doesn’t start being more careful.”
Refraining from mentioning the real cause of his most recent duel, Viola promised Mrs. Richardson she’d have some breakfast delivered soon and went to continue her rounds.
