A Promise by Daylight. Alison DeLaine

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      “At the moment, Your Grace, my only concern is for your health. I can’t believe standing is good for your condition. I would advise a hasty return to your bed.”

      “I’m hardly an invalid.”

      “Obviously.”

      He’d irritated her. How intriguing. Although now that he was standing here, he wished he weren’t. The gash on his thigh throbbed, and it hurt like the devil to put his weight on that leg, and his back felt as if someone had taken a knife to it.

      “When do you expect we shall depart for Greece?” she asked now.

      “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, and leaned against the doorjamb to take some weight off his left leg. “I’m in no particular hurry. I suppose it will depend partly on your assessment of my fitness for travel.”

      “Mobile as you are, I expect you will be fit very soon,” she said almost immediately.

      He raised a brow. “One might almost think you were anxious to be under way. Are you not enjoying Paris, then? If you like, I could make some suggestions for your entertainment while we’re still here.”

      “That won’t be necessary.”

      “Are you sure? There are any number of pleasurable hideaways that should not be missed. I suspect you enjoy a good debauch now and then, isn’t that right, Mr. Germain?”

      That little line appeared again on the left side of her upper lip, and she gave him a look of grave reproof. “I am in the business of staying free from disease, Your Grace.”

      He laughed. “I can think of several ways to do that. One has only to take precautions. Surely a man of your age is well versed in that subject.”

      That line above her lip deepened.

      “I shall have plenty to keep me occupied looking after Your Grace’s health. I understand that Your Grace is extremely fortunate not to have been more seriously injured.”

      He thought of the accident, and a quick, sucking sensation grabbed his chest. “Indeed. Very fortunate.” Thoughts forced their way in—images of the man who’d not been so fortunate, who had died mere feet away from Winston, whose blood had pooled around Winston’s fingers as they both lay on the street.

      Her brows dove. “Is something the matter?”

      “Not at all.” Nothing except the fact that he did not wish to discuss anything about the accident. “Unless you consider that I’ve lost use of my arm, and my shoulder aches like the devil, and I have a number of nasty cuts. Of course, you’ll be able to determine all the facts upon examination.” An examination that, if her manner in his bedchamber were any indication, she would not hesitate to perform.

      And wasn’t that going to be an interesting opportunity.

      “Of course,” she agreed.

      And he couldn’t help himself. He gestured with his good arm toward a chair by the window. “Perhaps you’d like to perform it now?”

      A spark of objection came into her eyes. “I haven’t yet unpacked all of my instruments.”

      “Good God. I should hope you won’t need any instruments to perform a simple examination.”

      “Mmm, yes,” she said doubtfully. “One would hope. But I have no idea what I might find. I shall want my scissors and probe at the ready, and my incision knife, certainly—”

      “Incision knife.”

      She looked at him as though he were a child. “I must be prepared to immediately address whatever I might find. Which is why I shall need to wait for the basic supply of lints, plasters and bandages I asked Harris to send for, in case any kind of procedure is required—and even if it isn’t, as Your Grace’s wounds will almost certainly require fresh dressings, if for no other reason than to apply a medicine more appropriate than oil of turpentine.”

      “How very...thorough.”

      “Your Grace, if you were struck by mortar and stone, there’s no telling what manner of grit could have escaped the eye of the surgeon who first attended you. Given your mobility, and the fact that you don’t appear to be feverish at the moment, I’m inclined to think that all is as it should be. But only when I’ve had a chance to see exactly where the stones struck you and precisely what damage occurred shall I be able to fully—”

      “I understand your point, Mr. Germain.” And he’d had more than enough of it. He pushed away from the door frame, and an arrow of pain shot from his shoulder to his left buttock.

      “By all means, let us delay the examination.” He bowed. “Until later, then.”

      * * *

      HIS ENTIRE BODY ached as he returned to his rooms. It was tempting to toss everyone out and go to sleep.

      He eased himself back onto his bed and replied to a ridiculous political assertion Favreau was making, laughed at a joke Perry tossed out from the card table, called to Seville in the other room to inquire whether Linton had arrived in Paris yet.

      “Doctor’s a right young piece of stuff, isn’t he?” Perry said, wandering over from the card table. “You know who’d like him...Kern. Always did enjoy that sort of thing.”

      “If Kern tries to distract my medic, he’ll answer to me.” And he would be very disappointed once he discovered that the protrusion at the front of Mr. Germain’s breeches was just for show. He smiled to himself, thinking of it now.

      His woman doctor may not have any discernible breasts, but she was bloody well hung.

      Just then, Harris came in and leaned close to his ear. “She has been found, Your Grace.”

      The room seemed to fade, and Winston fixed his full attention on Harris. “Where?”

      “A small house at the edge of town.” Harris hesitated. “It is my understanding that there are five children.”

      Bloody hell. “You’re certain?”

      “It’s been confirmed.”

      Five children and a widow. Winston rubbed the back of his neck. “See that they receive a hundred pounds,” he murmured. “No. Five hundred.”

      “Very good, Your Grace. I’ll see to it straightaway.”

      Winston exhaled, leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but that only made the problem worse. That face was always there—those sightless eyes staring at him while the man lay lifeless, his head cracked open by a piece of masonry that could just as easily have struck Winston. He could hear the screaming, the chaos of those crazed moments.

      Now, a female hand smoothed over his chest. “Ça va?”

      For a moment the courtesan’s perfume cloyed nauseatingly in his nostrils, but then he opened his eyes, drew his finger lazily across the top of her bosom. “Oui.”

      She smiled and eased a hip onto the СКАЧАТЬ