Worse, perhaps, was discoveringthat his wife had gone out. Where to, no one seemed to know, which instantly put him on edge. Suspicion slithered through him, making him worry she might be using his bed-ridden state against him.
Until Elks suggested her outing might have something to do with the fact that Isak was meant to move in today. Adrian had completely forgotten about that. So much had happened in recent days.
He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts returning to last night’s events. The footman Samantha had sent out to find Phelps’s body had met with success. Plans would now have to be made for his funeral.
Another reason Adrian couldn’t afford to waste time lying about. He pushed back the covers and made to climb out of bed, not quite managing to bite back a grunt as discomfort pulled at his wound.
Murry, the nursemaid, was instantly there. Adrian tried to swat him away. Now that he’d finished his breakfast, there was little the man could say or do to keep him confined to the room.
“It’s a shoulder wound, man,” Adrian insisted. “And there’s no sign of infection.”
“That may well be, but the wound was deep and damaging, sir. If you don’t allow it the time it requires to heal, you risk losing the use of your arm.”
Adrian scowled. “I find that highly unlikely.”
“Unlikely perhaps, but not unheard of.” Murry crossed his arms, his expression grim yet somehow optimistic. “However, if you are determined to ignore sound advice, then go right ahead. Just keep in mind theeffect your stubbornness may have upon you should you be unable to fight off future attackers.”
Why the hell did he have to sound so bloody reasonable? “You’re a bastard, do you know that?”
Murry smirked. “And you’re a pain in my arse, sir.”
A snort transformed into a faint chuckle as Adrian settled back into bed. Like the dutiful patient he was expected to be. Fine. He’d play along. But only because his shoulder might be hurting a little bit more than he dared let on.
Damn nuisance.
He glanced at the clock, his thoughts returning once more to his absent wife. Lord, he envied her freedom. “I don’t suppose Mrs. Croft said when she’d be back?”
“I don’t believe so,” Murry told him while removing some of Adrian’s shoes from the dressing room. “She’ll likely return when she’s done with her errand.”
How positively insightful.
Adrian blew out a breath and watched as Murry positioned himself in a chair. He opened a box and pulled out a jar along with a rag, then proceeded to polish a shoe that already gleamed to perfection.
“I think you missed a spot,” Adrian said a few minutes later when Murry prepared to set it aside. The valet sent him a disgruntled look, which Adrian answered with an innocent smile.
He was immensely relieved when the bedchamber door swung open a few minutes later and Samantha strolled in. Her cheeks were rosy from the fresh air, hereyes bright with an almost childish kind of excitement that instantly cheered him.
Not caring that Murry was there, she crossed to the bed and pressed a quick kiss to Adrian’s brow. “How’s the patient faring?”
“Perfectly well,” Adrian told her. “I’d dance a reel with you if I were permitted to get out of bed.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Really?”
“Perhaps not a reel,” he admitted, “but a stroll in the garden would not be too much to manage.”
“Fresh air would likely be good for you actually.”
“You see?” Adrian tried to sit up again but winced when he attempted to support his weight with his left arm.
Shit.
Concern creased Samantha’s brow. Her hand came around him to offer support while she repositioned his pillows and helped him lean back. “I’ll open one of the windows.” She was already moving across the floor. “When was the compress last changed?”
“Nearly three hours ago,” Murry said.
“Oh.” She unlatched the window she’d chosen, opened it, and secured it with a stay before sending Adrian a swift look over her shoulder. “You must have woken shortly after I left then.”
“Which begs the question, where have you been?”
