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"I heard the commotion. I did not expect guests."

"Lady Sutton!" Everly ran up the last two steps to the landing, took Temperance's hand, and pressed it to his lips. "The prodigal wife returns. Radiant as ever."

"Mr. Everly. A pleasure." Temperance smiled politely, trying to ease her hand from his grasp. He didn't let go.

Sutton reached the landing and deliberately stumbled into his cousin, pushing him aside. The collision jarred his ribs, sending a spike of agony through his side.

It was worth it.

"Ow, you are quite strong for an injured man," Everly slurred.

"I see you two have already been introduced," Sutton noted.

Temperance grimaced, rubbing her hand dry on the skirt of her gown. "Indeed."

"Ah yes, back on the marriage mart," Everly supplied jovially. "Six or seven years ago? She nearly became Mrs. Everly, didn't you, my lady? If my cousin hadn't swooped in and claimed you as his own. Though he couldn't quite keep you for long, now could he?"

Sutton clenched his jaw, wishing he could drive a fist into Everly's.

Everly had no doubt attempted to court Temperance during her debut. And Sutton had even less doubt that she had no interest in entertaining his suit.

"Lady Sutton, Dr. Grisham," Whitlow introduced swiftly.

"A pleasure. You must have come to inspect my husband's wound; please, proceed this way." Temperance shot a quick glance at Whitlow before leading the doctor away.

Whitlow, understanding the gesture at once, was at Sutton's side. "Allow me to escort you to your room."

Sutton snatched his hand away. "I am quite capable."

Whitlow didn't argue, just followed close behind.

Temperance was worried about him. The realization sent warmth blooming in his chest.

He also realized that in the past three years working closely with Whitlow, his wife and the man of business had developed a shorthand.

Sutton did not care for it. It was not jealousy, precisely, only a restless, prickling sort of irritation.

"Please, Doctor, make yourself comfortable," Temperance said as they finally entered Sutton's suite.

With Whitlow's help, Sutton carefully sank onto the edge of the mattress. Dash bustled about the washstand, laying out linens and muttering under his breath.

Everly slouched against the bedpost, his heavy-lidded gaze drifting around the room with vague, glassy interest.

Dr. Grisham set his case on the washstand and rolled back his cuffs before turning to Temperance.

"My Lady Sutton, I must ask you to withdraw. The sight of a reopened wound, and the language his lordship may employ while I tend it, are entirely unsuited to a lady's ears."

Temperance did not move from the foot of the bed. "Thank you for being so considerate, Dr. Grisham. But I have heard my husband curse, and seen the wound since I was the one who stitched it in the first place, so I think I shall stay."

Grisham coughed and adjusted his spectacles. "That must have been very unpleasant. Let us not repeat the experience."

"I need to know how to care for his wound," she protested.

Sutton found her insistence curious.

"Surely the servants are more than equipped to do the job," the doctor said.

Temperance was visibly annoyed, and Sutton couldn't help but be entertained by her ire.