“Thank you, but Mr. Hudson gave me two hours to handle this and check on Mr. Michaels. I’m afraid luncheon would take too long.”
“Of course,” Anthony said. “But you still have time to check on Mr. Michaels, if you wish.”
“I’m not sure I need to any more. Now that I know he’s all right, I can tell Mr. Hudson that he’ll return to work soon.”
“When do you suppose that might be?” Anthony asked. When Brody shrugged, his friend said, “We’ve just signed a publishing deal. It would be prudent to make sure the person charged with printing our book is capable.”
“Mr. Hudson will find someone else if he isn’t.”
“You said yourself that Mr. Michaels is the best.”
“He is.”
“Well then, it stands to good reason that you should check on him, Brody. Those wounds looked like they could do with more cleaning than what was accomplished here. And if Mr. Michaels is busy taking care of his sister, he may not think to take proper care of himself.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Ada said.
“But the wounds could get infected,” Brody muttered. “His hands…”
“Not good news for a compositor I’d imagine,” Anthony said.
“You’re absolutely right.” Why the hell hadn’t he thought of this himself? Mr. Michaels depended on his hands. If the wounds weren’t properly cleaned he could risk losing a finger, possibly more.
Good God.
“By the way, Ada,” Anthony said while all sorts of horrid scenarios swam through Brody’s brain. “Did you send one of the footmen to fetch the doctor?”
“I did.”
“Very good. I do believe Brody will meet him at Mr. Michaels’s home. If you could please provide the address.”
“Honestly, Anthony, I’m not sure that’s—”
“Trust me, Ada.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek in a show of affection that instantly made Brody long for that sort of connection with the right woman. Infuriatingly, the face he envisioned when thinking of kissing was Mr. Michaels’s.
Ugh!
Much to Brody’s surprise, Ada rolled her eyes and shook her head with bemusement. She finally gave up the address as though she believed it to be the sort of idea that was bound to land them all in a great deal of trouble.
Brody didn’t understand it. If Mr. Michaels was her friend, surely she would appreciate Anthony’s reasoning. It made perfect sense to Brody. Checking on Mr. Michaels was without doubt the correct thing to do. It was certainly the only way for him to have a clear conscience.
12
Harriet had barely returned home before someone knocked on the door. She glanced at her sister who thankfully slept. Her temperature was still high and the bucket Harriet had cleaned before heading out three hours ago had since been used. As had the chamber pot.
“Coming,” Harriet shouted when additional knocks landed against the door.
She rushed to the window and pushed it open, hoping to rid the room of some of the stench before admitting the doctor.
Aware that she herself looked a mess, she crossed to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. Instead of the sweet relief she’d expected to feel however, she was horrified to discover Mr. Evans. Who wasn’t Mr. Evans at all. He was a duke and he presently stood on the threshold of what she could only describe as a hovel compared with what he was probably used to.
“Ah…” Her voice caught in her throat.
“Shall we proceed?” Someone spoke from behind Mr. Evans. He would remain Mr. Evans until she learned his title. As it turned out, the doctor was hidden behind his tall frame.
“Well, Mr. Michaels?” Mr. Evans raised an eyebrow and waited.
All Harriet could think to say was, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
