Percy coughed and choked and worked to clear his throat. Why did nothetake a run at Lady Felicity? That was a circumstance he’d not seen coming. He’d put all his effort toward convincing his father that he was set on Lady Felicity. He’d not thought of the duke at all in his plan.
“Uh, well, as to that, you see, the way I see it, I suppose…”
Before Percy had to elaborate any further by way of a string of random words, his father burst into the room.
“My god!” the viscount shouted. “He’s an only son and look what’s happened to him!”
“It was never going to be very sensible to own a tiger, in my opinion,” the duke said matter-of-factly. “Something like this was bound to happen.”
“The tiger was not a danger until somebody let him out!” the viscount cried.
“You really should get hold of yourself, old fellow,” the duke said. “Hysterics won’t help Stratton, here.”
“I demand an end to this pursuit of that man’s daughter!” the viscount cried at Percy, apparently unable to put aside his hysteria.
“Ah, that’s the game is it?” the duke asked. “I did wonder. Well, I am agreeable, even though he’s only a mister.”
“You see what they are, Stratton! They are deranged lunatics!”
“Hah!” the duke said, laughing heartily. “I’m not the one looking everywhere for invisible pineapples, am I? Do you often hallucinate about fruit that isn’t there?”
“Why aren’t you dead on the moors?” the viscount asked the duke, fury trembling in his voice. “We all thought you were dead on the moors and we were very relieved to hear it!”
“I do not know who thewecould be that you refer to, Sir Pineapple, but most people find me delightful,” the duke said.
Percy had the idea the old soldier believed it, too. Oddly, the duke was somehow growing on him.
Fortunately, the doctor came in before his father could respond to being called Sir Pineapple.
Dr. Redmond took charge of the room at once. He showed himself to be a no-nonsense sort of gentleman who was not the least bit awed by a duke and a viscount hurling insults at one another. He ordered the duke out and he ordered Percy’s father to sit quietly in a corner else he would be put out too.
The doctor examined the wounds and pronounced them precisely what one would expect from a tiger’s claw. “If you avoid infection, you ought to do all right,” he said. “I’ll dose you with laudanum and get it all cleaned up—I don’t suppose a tiger keeps his claws very tidy. You’ll be sore for quite a while, I imagine.”
“If he does not die!” the viscount said. “He is an only son—if he dies, the title will go to my imbecile nephew!”
Percy heard Dr. Redmond sigh deeply. “I’ll give your father a dose of laudanum too. I can’t see what else will calm him down.”
“I do not require being calmed down,” the viscount said. “I will take my son home now. Somebody call my carriage!”
“You will do no such thing,” the doctor said sternly. “He is not to be moved for several days. I will stay the night to ensure he does not develop a fever and then we will see where we are. Now, you get in your carriage, by yourself, and get out of my way.”
There were various sputterings from the viscount’s direction, but for once he could not find the words to respond. It made Percy laugh despite it causing him pain.
He heard the viscount jump to his feet. “I have decided to depart. I will return on the morrow. First thing! I order you to stay alive, Stratton.”
With that fatherly advice, he promptly stomped out of the room.
“All right, one problem solved,” the doctor said. “Roll carefully on your side so you can drink down the laudanum.”
Percy did as he was bid, though it was excruciating.
It was well worth it though. Once the laudanum took effect, his pain lessened remarkably and his spirits rose. After all, aside from his skin being torn to shreds, the evening had gone rather well.
To think, he would forever be known as the fellow who fought off a tiger. It would be very pleasant to go round being a tiger-fighter. He did not suppose Rustmont could claim to be a tiger-fighter.
Rustmont. He’d run away with all the others, like a hare from a fox. Like a frightened child. Like a fainting woman. Like a… not the high-flown Corinthian he pretended he was. He wondered what Lady Felicity thought aboutthat.
Percy said, “Rustmont is afraid of a tiger.”
