“Yes, Duncan will know if I do not rest,” Merry said. “I am not sure how, but I know he will know.”
The dowager smiled. “My Duncan misses nothing, lass. Alert as a hawk, that one.”
Once they were all settled in the beds and on the extra pallets the inn had provided for the maids, Merry stared up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, wondering if Duncan had allowed Dr. Hatler to give him another dose of laudanum so he could rest as well.
“Close your eyes,” Serendipity whispered.
“I feel like Papa’s watch that Chance overwound that day. Remember how its back popped off and all its innards flew out?”
“Breathe deeply and slowly and close your eyes.”
“That never works.”
“Stop talking and try it.” Serendipity’s tone left no room for further argument.
Knowing her status aslittle sisterwould change very shortly, Merry relented and did as she was told for old times’ sake.
*
Propped upright inwhat had served as his sickbed for the past week, Duncan scowled at the constable who dared question him about the night of Lord Brixham’s death. He tipped a nod at his bandaged arm. “The man shot me while I embraced my bride-to-be. I fired back, and my man, whom I pay well to guard me and mine, shot into the darkness as well. I dinna ken which of us gutted the bastard. All I know is that we succeeded.”
Hat clutched between his hands, the nervous constable shuffled in place, nodding all the while. “I understand, my lord, and do forgive the further questions, but the Archbishop of Canterbury sent word that the death was to be investigated thoroughly.” He shifted his stanceagain as if needing to locate the best place to leave a shite. “Those working in the stable support your story, but I must speak with all concerned. I am sure you understand.”
Duncan clenched his teeth to keep from roaring at the man that the Archbishop of Canterbury’s favorite deceased lordling was a man who thought it well within his rights to take whatever he wanted from a woman, no matter how she felt about the matter. But he wouldn’t say that. To do so might only worsen things, since it would provide yet another reason he wanted the man dead and buried. “Well, now I have answered ye. Have ye any other asinine questions?”
The man shook his head. “Not at this time, my lord. Thank you for your time, and I do wish you good health and a full recovery.”
Duncan snorted, then gave Brown a nod to show the man out the door. He nearly groaned aloud when Dr. Hatler entered as the constable exited.
The surgeon arched his brows. “Is that any way to look at the man who kept you from bleeding to death?”
Swinging his legs off the bed, Duncan flinched as the wound in his arm reminded him that it had only been a scant week since he had been shot. “And I thank ye for yer services, but seeing as how I intend to leave for Gretna Green today, why have ye not resumed yer travels, Dr. Hatler?”
“I am en route to spend some time with my sister.” The gentleman made a face, appearing as though he had eaten something that wasn’t sitting well at all. “I am in no hurry to get to my destination, and caring for a patient is an impeccable reason for my delay.” He pointed at Duncan’s injured arm. “Roll up your sleeve, my lord, so I might check your bandage one last time before you are on your way.”
“I found my man Brown during the war,” Duncan said, but did as the surgeon asked. “He assisted men like yerself and knows how to tend wounds and keep them from festering.”
Dr. Hatler eyed the bandage, leaned in close and sniffed it, thenpressed the back of his hand to Duncan’s throat. “No odor and no fever. It would seem you chose your valet wisely.” He stepped back and folded his hands. “I also spoke to the constable about Lord Brixham.”
“Did ye now?” Duncan refused to reveal his thoughts on that matter. He had told the surgeon as few details as possible about Brixham’s grudge. “I am sure the man appreciated that, seeing as how the archbishop is nipping at his tail to find someone to blame other than Brixham.”
“Lord Brixham confessed that he tried to kill you out of jealousy.”
The man was fishing. Duncan could smell it. “The Brixham I knew would never confess to anything.”
“He would if he wanted relief.”
Pain could make a man do or say many a thing, be it true or not. Duncan eyed the surgeon, seeing Dr. Hatler in a different light. “Ye helped the man on his way.”
Dr. Hatler gave the barest nod. “As a former man of the cloth, it seemed the most appropriate action…and the most merciful. I happen to carry morphine for just such emergencies.”
Duncan wouldn’t express his opinion regarding the man’s mercy. He would have let Brixham lie there and suffer until the Almighty took him. “I assume ye left that part out when ye spoke to the constable, aye?”
“The part about the morphine? Yes. But I did tell him of Lord Brixham’s confession. Even gave him the paper Brixham signed so he might send it to the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“Ye had the man sign a paper before ye helped him die?”
“Of course.”
