Page 49 of An Unusual Wager

Walter, a little wide-eyed, pulled Jonathan’s boots off and set them carefully by the bed as though being neat and tidy were now the most important thing of the day. Verity undid the fall on Jonathan’s breeches and, with the help of Walter and the remaining footman, they slid his breeches down. He was now quite naked. She determined not to look, but couldn’t help her eyes sliding down his body in curiosity. More maneuvering and they got him under the covers, modesty returned.

Verity, however, was in the process of discovering that removing the clothing of the man she’d married but never seen naked was a quite different experience to tending to some unknown soldier. Of course, she knew exactly what a man’s anatomy looked like and had not expected to be affected by seeing Jonathan unclad. But she had been. She still was. For now what she was seeing had implications. If she succeeded in teaching him a well-deserved lesson, the part of his anatomy that was exclusively male was a part she would become intimately acquainted with. And it had drawn her attention far more than she wanted to believe. It was no longer something just randomly attached to a human body she was unacquainted with. Instead, it was a thing with a purpose, on a man she knew, and that purpose was to create an heir for his earldom. With her.

She was very glad to have it covered up.

She turned her attention back to Walter. “Has a doctor seen him?”

Walter nodded. “Yes. He said we could bring him back here.”

“And has he been unconscious the whole journey?”

Robert shook his head. “No. He was talking some time ago. He seems to be slipping in and out of consciousness, I’d say.”

“He was asleep,” Walter put in with unnecessary firmness. “Not unconscious.”

Robert glared at him. “I said it was too far to bring him.”

Verity held up her hand. “Has he had any sort of medicine?”

Walter nodded again. “That doctor in Town gave us Laudanum for him. We slipped a few drops into his mouth while he was sleeping every so often. I think it helped.”

Verity eyed the clearly still-sleeping Jonathan. Had they given him too much? It was possible. One had to be very careful with a drug like laudanum. She’d have expected that ride upstairs and being manhandled into bed to have woken him up, but it hadn’t. However, there was nothing any of them could do about that at the moment.

Lucas returned. “My lady, I’ve sent one of the stable lads to fetch Dr. Collins. By good fortune he lives nearby in the village, so he should not be long. Unless he’s already in attendance elsewhere, of course. I’ve instructed the lad to find him and fetch him whatever he might be doing.”

Dr. Collins, a man of scrawny middle age and a long lugubrious face, was luckily not in attendance elsewhere. He arrived on his horse, a racy beast, less than half an hour later, and came running up the stairs two at a time, his black bag in his hand.

He bowed to Verity. “Lady Dunster.” And moved over to the bed.

Verity shooed everyone out of the bedroom, even though Walter was reluctant to leave, and closed the door behind them. She went to stand beside the bed. This was, after all, the man to whom she was married.

For the first time she was able to study her husband without him staring back at her. His eyes were still closed, and one side of his face was unmarked, in stark contrast to the side that had taken the worst of the beating. But if she looked at the undamaged side she found he looked different to when he was awake. Reminiscent of the ten-year-old boy she’d seen in the portrait at his mother’s house.

His mother. Should she be informed of his injuries? Best wait and see what the doctor had to say. No point in worrying her unduly.

She sat on the chair someone had pulled nearer to the bed and watched the doctor examining Jonathan’s wounds. He removed the bandages holding the splint on his arm in place and felt along it gently. The arm was already turning purple with deep bruising, the better part of it close to his elbow. It looked as though he’d received a heavy blow just above halfway down it.

Dr. Collins cleared his throat and began to reapply the splint. “This forearm has been most adequately set. The bones, as far as I can tell with all this swelling, are nicely realigned and, if all goes well, he should have few problems with it once it is mended. He’s going to need to keep the splints on for some weeks and resist all temptation to use that arm. I shall, of course, be available to visit every day if required.” Being an earl had a lot of benefits, it seemed. Probably Dr. Collins didn’t want to risk losing such a rich patient. He’d be anxious to make sure nothing untoward befell Jonathan. Jonnie. Suddenly, using the abbreviation of his name felt natural. Lying here, wounded and vulnerable, he was no longer the man she’d developed such a strong dislike for, but someone for whom she felt compassion.

She could even feel sorry for him.

She could even accept that she had some sort of feelings for him. She frowned. Pity, most likely.

“And his shoulder?” she asked.

Having secured the splint back in place, Dr. Collins carefully removed the bandage the doctor in London must have applied. It was stiff with dried blood and had to be prised off the wound. Fresh blood trickled where the congealed blood had been dislodged. “A gunshot wound.” He managed to lift Jonnie’s left side and peer at his back. “Did not go through and I would say did not strike any bones. I shall assume the London man removed the bullet and ensured no fragments of His Lordship’s shirt were left in the wound. I don’t want to set it bleeding again by prodding at it. I’ll apply ointment and a fresh bandage.”

Verity watched him do so.

He glanced up. “Might there be someone amongst your staff capable of changing the dressing for him every day, my lady?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’ll do it myself. I have experience in tending wounds.”

His eyebrows rose but he moved onto Jonnie’s face. “I can apply leeches here to reduce the swelling. That would be helpful to his recovery.”

Verity nodded. “I’ve seen it done before many times. Most efficacious.”

Again he looked surprised at her experience. “And a poultice of linseed meal or bread and vinegar might also help. Do you need help with that?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve used both of those before.” She smiled at the man. “I have not always been a countess, doctor, and lived in a house like this.”

His eyes crinkled in a return smile, making his long face appear much more friendly. “You have the air about you of a woman of good sense. I feel happy to leave my patient in your hands. If you need anything at all, if you feel he is deteriorating, or in too much pain, don’t hesitate to send for me.” He paused, looking back down at his patient. “Lord Dunster is very lucky to have found himself so capable a wife as you.”

He gently felt Jonnie’s chest. “I fear more than a few broken ribs. I think if you could ring for a strong footman, I would like to apply supporting bandages.”

“I could help.”

He shook his head. “No. Not in this instance. His Lordship is not a small man and seems to be sleeping still. I understand he’s been given laudanum so this is not surprising to me. The footman can help me lift him and apply the bandages around his chest while he’s still under the influence of the drug. It is possible with broken ribs to puncture a lung, and we don’t want that.”

He took a small glass bottle from his bag. “I have more laudanum here, but you must not exceed the dose I shall recommend.” He returned his gaze to Jonnie. “Or this deep a sleep ensues, and that is not good for the lungs. We do not want His Lordship’s lungs becoming congested from long periods lying on his back. He needs to be sitting up rather than lying prone, and although I recommend immobility for his ribs, I would like him to be up and slowly walking withing a few days. But I shall be back before then to check on his progress.” He put out a hand and patted Verity’s. “Do not fear, my lady, I will not allow your husband to succumb to his injuries. All are possible to overcome.”

Verity looked down at Jonnie. It was a relief to know he wasn’t dying, as Kitty had thought, and he was in good hands here. Why this mattered so much to her was a mystery, though. She didn’t even like him. Did she?