Page 48 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

“Gordon, if you please,” Martin said.

The young footman unbuttoned the waistcoat and removed it, then did the same with the white shirt. Part of it stuck to the wound and Garrett moaned as it was pulled away. They sat Garrett upright partway, and Abbie took the opportunity to inspect his back. An exit wound, which meant that the bullet had passed through. Thankfully, the blood escaping there was a mere trickle. But what damage had it wreaked in its journey? She moved in beside Garrett and placed further pressure on the wound, which had bled profusely while he was being situated.

“What can we do until the doctor arrives?” Martin asked, worry clear in his tone.

Heavens, what to do? “Fetch hot water, clean rolls of cloths to use as bandages, scissors, and—blast it! I have no idea what else.”

“Gordon, go to the kitchen directly. Mrs. Barnes is there and will collect what we need. Hurry now,” Martin instructed.

The young man sprinted from the room, and he’d no sooner departed when another footman announced, “Dr. Phillips from Sevenoaks.”

“Ah, Doctor. If you please. Master Garrett has been shot. If you would attend him posthaste?” Martin asked.

Abbie glanced up. An older man with a white beard came to her side and rudely bumped her out of the way. “This is no place for a lady. See she is removed.”

Fury colored her vision and her blood boiled. Regardless of what this man said, she would persist and hold her ground. “See here, Doctor. You may address me directly; in any case, I will not be leaving this room.”

He finally met her indignant stare with a sniff of disdain. “Suit yourself, but do stay well clear.” The doctor roughly lifted Garrett, causing him to groan in protest. “Ah, the bullet passed through. He is losing too much blood. All that remains is removal of the arm to stem any infection. At the shoulder should do it.”

Even the ever-dispassionate Martin could not keep the look of horror from his face at the doctor’s wild diagnosis.

“This is hardly the seventeenth century, Dr. Phillips. I suppose you’ll be bringing out the leeches next,” Abbie snapped.

“I will not be spoken to in such a tone from a woman,” he sniffed. “And leeches still have their place in today’s medicine. Besides, who are you to be giving such decided opinions?”

“I am the widow of a doctor; I know a little of the profession.”

Dr. Phillips laughed mockingly.

Abbie chose to ignore it and soldiered on. “There have been great strides in treating wounds such as these. Removing appendages is no longer the first option. You must do all you can to save the arm.” She bustled past him and applied further pressure to Garrett’s shoulder, which had started to bleed profusely once again.

“Ma’am—”

“The lady’s name is Mrs. Hughes, Doctor. I apologize for not introducing you,” Martin interjected.

“Mrs. Hughes, then. You see how the wound is seeping. He will bleed out if we do not remove the limb and cauterize the wound. Removing it will also lessen the chance of infection.”

My God, this man had stepped out of the medieval age. Abbie protectively stepped in front of Garrett. “Listen to me, all of you. We will not proceed with this butchery until the earl’s doctor arrives from London. I demand a second opinion.” Abbie pressed harder on the wound. “I will stand here and apply pressure until he does make an appearance. I am most determined, and nothing will shift me from Garrett’s side unless you drag me kicking and screaming from this room.” It took all her self-control to stem her anger. Abbie kept her tone respectful, but firm.

“There is no call to be dramatic,” Dr. Phillips replied in a clipped tone. “It could be another two hours before this London doctor arrives.”

“I will stand here all blasted night if that is what it takes!” she cried.

“Doctor,” Garrett coughed. “I…I would listen to her.”

“Is this what you want, Mr. Wollstonecraft?” the doctor asked.

“It…is.”

The doctor pursed his lips. “As you wish. We wait for this London doctor.”

Garrett gazed at her, pride and admiration reflected in his beautiful eyes. And love. Oh, always the love. “My angel.”

The overwhelming urge to cry nearly swamped her, but she would save the tears for later. When she was alone. Garrett needed her, and Abbie would not leave his side.

Fight, my Scottish warrior, fight.

Chapter 16