Page 44 of Lord of Mistrust

“Doctor Bower—I’m not questioning your judgment. My husband has, however, only been your patient for a short while. I beg you to make no hasty decisions that will affect him in the future. You do not know him so well as I. He would rather die than lose his arm.”

“I understand your concerns, but—”

“Doctor. I ask only that you give us a stay of execution. A few more days under my regime, and if there’s no continued improvement, you must do what you have to.”

“It may be too late by then—”

Chloe let out a hiccoughing sob and turned her face away. The doctor was suddenly all concern.

“Pray, calm yourself, my lady—I’ll not have you added to the list of invalids. You may have your stay of execution. But two days only—I dare not leave it longer. Now, I’ll give you and your husband some peace.”

Doctor Bower gave Chloe a polite bow, nodded to Robert, and departed. Moments later, Whiteley was back in the room, grinning broadly.

“She did well, did she not, our Mistress Emmerson?”

Robert pressed his eyes closed, then opened them again. “Forgive me. I’m not quite myself. Are the maggots gone?”

“Never to return,” Whiteley reassured him. “Your wound is clean. You may have a scar, but I’m sure you’ll heal satisfactorily.”

Suddenly everyone was an expert in physick. How infuriating it was to be an invalid, at the mercy of others’ opinions!

“You’re an expert surgeon now, are you, fellow?” he mumbled.

“Oh, Robert! I was so worried!”

Chloe’s earnest face was close to his. He resisted the urge to stroke her silken cheek. “You shouldn’t be here. Dangerous.”

She looked offended. “Not anymore. Surely?”

He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t explain. It was frustrating beyond belief. “How did you come to be here? Where’s your aunt?”

“At home. I’ve been confined to the house since my return from Hampshire, and subjected to the attentions of Lord Brooke.” She pulled a face.

A chill coursed through Robert’s veins. “Lord Brooke? Of Malton Lodge?”

“The very same. I told you. It was him from whom I was fleeing when I went in search of my mother. Detestable man. Although he gave me the means of escape today.”

The chill became ice. “He helped you come here?”

“Aye. I’d not been allowed out, but he arrived and suggested we take a stroll about, so I said that first, I wanted to watch the archery at Moorfields, and then visit the Bethlehem Hospital to bring fruit to the poor sufferers. ’Twas only a short step from there to here.”

If he’d had the energy for it, he’d have ground his teeth. He was picturing Lord Brooke waiting below, congratulating himself on how easily he’d found the home of the man who had almost confounded his plans. And here he lay, weak as a kitten, and unable to defend himself. Or protect those he loved.

“Where is he?”

“Brooke? Oh, I threatened to spend a few hours in the Drapers’ Hall, and that was the thin end of the wedge. He left me in the company of our boy, William, who was sent to keep an eye upon me, and went on his way, God be thanked. Will’s doubtless swinging his legs from a high stool in your kitchen now, eating stolen tidbits, and annoying your cook.”

“You must not come here again.”

“But your arm… the doctor…” She looked puzzled and distressed.

“And don’t mention my name to Brooke, or that you know me.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“Just do as I say. And should I survive this, and you see me in public, pass by as if we were strangers. Will you swear to this?”

“No, I won’t. Why should I?”