Page 62 of The Viscount of Shadows

“And the viscount?”

“Doctor Hornsby says there is a slight, lingering infection, but the viscount is fighting it. He may be abed for a week or maybe less, for he seems fit enough. Sleep works wonders. And you should try to do that very thing. Doctor Hornsby will arrive later this afternoon, but his examinations must wait. I surmise the viscount will sleep for hours, and so will you.” Lady Corrine assisted Claudia in lying flat, brought the quilt under her chin, and removed the tray from Claudia’s lap.

“You are an excellent nurse, my lady,” Claudia smiled. “Thank you for the care.”

“You are entirely welcome. Try and sleep now.” Lady Corrine slipped out of the room, closing the door softly. Claudia’s eyes grew heavy, and at last, sleep overtook her.

* * *

When Oliver next awakened, he found Doctor Drew Hornsby examining his injury.

“I hope I haven’t disturbed you,” the young doctor said as he placed a fresh piece of gauze on the wound. He then sniffed the old gauze. “Good. No signs of putrid pus, blood, or infection.”

“There’s a mercy.”

“You have slept nearly around the clock, my lord. Another good sign. In fact, when I stopped by yesterday afternoon, you were still napping.”

“How long have I been sleeping? I recall awakening more than once. I couldn’t tell whether it was day or night. I have lost all track of time.”

“It is the morning of the next day, my lord. We thought it best to allow you to slumber when you could. Dalton was close by, I assume.”

“Yes. I remember my butler bringing me toast at one point. Drew, call me Oliver. You don’t have to slip in the occasional ‘my lord.’ We have known each other since we were boys.”

“That we have. When dealing with patients, automatically using the title is a habit.” The doctor placed his hand on Oliver’s forehead. “Barely even warm. You are making a remarkable recovery, Oliver. But you will still have to stay in bed for a few days. You are on the mend enough to have more than oatmeal and toast. I will inform the cook to make you eggs, ham, or bacon, whichever you prefer.”

“Can I have both?”

Drew chuckled. “Another good sign.”

“And Claudia—Miss Ellingford?”

“She is sleeping. Baroness Addington said Miss Ellingford did not get much sleep the first night. But she brought her breakfast early this morning, and Miss Ellingford is napping now after sleeping most of yesterday.”

“Baroness?”

Drew explained that the recently married baroness had close to ten years of nursing experience and the particulars of her offering to assist.

“I am surprised but also thankful for the aid.”

“I will come again tomorrow morning. Continued bed rest.”

“Whatever you say, Drew. I will follow your orders. I don’t believe I can do much except sit upright today, at any rate.”

Drew placed his stethoscope in his case and closed it. “And you should sit upright. It speeds up the recovery process. Now, your cousin awaits an audience along with your feline companion. It has been quite a chore keeping your cat out of your room. Rest and eat. And sleep when you can.”

The doctor no sooner opened the door to depart when Caramel tore into the room and jumped on Oliver’s bed. Purring loudly, she sought out Oliver’s hand, and he scratched under her chin. Turning twice counter-clockwise, the feline settled in beside him, then sighed contentedly.

Rett chuckled. “The cat spent hours outside your room as if holding a vigil. Believe it or not, I woke this morning to find her napping at the foot of my bed. Blasted cat hair everywhere.”

“She’s accepted you as a friend. Here, help me sit up. I am tired of lying flat like an invalid, although I still feel like one.”

Rett held out his arm, and Oliver gripped it tight as Rett pulled him forward in a sitting position. Then, his cousin fluffed up his pillows. “Comfortable?”

Oliver gritted his teeth. “Not really. But this will do.”

Rett sat on the chair by the bed. “Well. What happened?”

“If you don’t mind, can you wait until DS Simpson arrives? I don’t want to tell the tale more than once.”