“Do not judge that which you do not know or understand, Dr. Hatler.”
He gave another solemn nod. “The choice is yours, my lady. A choice you alone will have to live with.”
Chapter Thirteen
Blast that surgeonand his infernal preaching that made one’s conscience groan.
Merry had reservations about going to Brixham’s bedside before seeing Duncan, but Dr. Hatler had insisted there was no time to be wasted. Without going into too much disturbing detail, the man had assured her that the bullet fired by Angus had traveled through Brixham’s gut, doing the ample damage for which it was intended. Since consuming much of anything caused Brixham even more pain, his best hope was to die quickly from blood loss rather than a slow, painful death from infection.
However, she wanted Serendipity with her. Even with the viscount disabled and on his deathbed, she refused to be alone in a room with him. Holding tight to her sister, Merry eased inside the chamber lit by oil lamps on either side of the bed.
Brixham lay there, plucking at the bedclothes pulled up to his throat. As she drew closer, he turned his head toward her, opened his right eye, and squinted at her with the left, which was still swollen shut and mottled with bruising.
“Happy?” he rasped.
“Not yet,” she said, refusing to say anything but the brutal truth.
He bared his teeth, whether in pain or from trying to sneer at her, she had no idea. “This is your fault.”
“I never gave you any reason to think I would ever accept you.”Merry held even tighter to Serendipity, appreciating how her sister remained silently supportive. “You have known since our childhood that I despised you.”
He straightened his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. “Yes. But why?”
“Because even then, you were cold. Cruel.” She wouldn’t dig up all the memories of how he had tormented playmates—not playful teasing as children often do, but mean antics, causing them genuine pain. “You had everything, Brixham. Everything but a heart.”
“I needed no heart. Money and power. That makes a man.”
“And where does money and power get you now? To my knowledge, St. Peter does not accept banknotes or coins for entry into heaven.”
Sweat streaming off his face, he reached for her, his hand shaking. “Give me my gun. Laudanum does nothing, and this pain…excruciating.”
“I will not.” Even on his deathbed, Merry was not entirely certain he would shoot himself rather than her.
“Then tell that damned surgeon to give it to me.” With a heart-wrenching groan, he flinched. “I want this ended. Now.”
“I will send Dr. Hatler in to see you.” Merry turned to go.
“Wait.”
Against her better judgment, she faced him once more. “What?”
“We could have been so powerful together.”
“I did not want power,” she said. “I wanted love. Something of which you know very little, if anything.”
“Get out,” he growled, “and send that damn surgeon in here.”
Merry stared at him for a long moment, feeling nothing other than relief. The coldness of her heart and the damage Brixham had done to her soul concerned her. Should she not find some small amount of pity for the man? With a decisive nod to pray about it, she hurried out, Serendipity on her heels.
Dr. Hatler was waiting in the hallway.
“He wants to see you so you can give him his gun,” she told the surgeon, just as she had promised.
“I cannot do that, my lady.”
“I understand.” Fist clutched to her chest, she tried to shut out the memory of Brixham as they went down the hallway toward Duncan’s room. “I fear my soul is damned, Seri,” she said. “I am not sorry about Brixham’s state.”
Serendipity hugged her as they walked along. “I am afraid I cannot help you, dear sister, because I feel the same.”
