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One black brow lifted. “No idea. I was leaving a gaming hell with a friend and someone took a shot. My friend had won a substantial amount so we assume the shot was meant for him.”
“Disgusting,” she muttered again. She searched her bag for her needle and thread. After pouring the brandy into a glass, she dropped the needle into the glass. Then she poured another one, added a few drops of laudanum, and then handed it to him. “Drink.”
He reached for the snifter and drank it down in one gulp. “I doubt one more glass will have much of a numbing effect.”
“We shall see.” Tia brushed his hand away from the bloody handkerchief and stared down at the wound. The long cut wasn’t terribly deep, but she could see some fabric from his clothing in there. Without a thought, she poured a large amount of brandy over the gash.
A violent string of curses erupted from Middleton. “Bloody hell, woman. Are you trying to get revenge for earlier tonight?”
“No,” she said, as she wiped as the wound and then picked a few more strands of fabric out. “I am trying to make sure you don’t die from blood poisoning. Now just be quiet and let me work.”
Middleton clenched his jaw as she started to stitch him back together.
Knowing it sometimes helped to keep a patient’s mind off the task she performed, she said, “So why were you at a gaming hell tonight?”
“The usual reasons.”
“And the perfume?”
“Not the usual reason.”
She waited for him to continue but when he didn’t, she asked. “Oh?”
“Some poor woman thought I might be interested, so she came and sat on my lap.” He stared up at her with his penetrating blue eyes. “But I wasn’t interested in her.”
“I see,” she replied, moving her gaze back to the task at hand. “Unfortunately, this will leave a rather long scar.”
He looked over as she finished the last stitch. “You are a fine seamstress. Your stitches are straight and neat. I doubt the scar will be all that bad.”
Tia glanced over at the large, jagged scar on his lower ribs. “Compared to that one, anything would be better. Who did that to you?”
“A local surgeon. Probably the same man who I would have called tonight had you not been here.”
Tia shook her head. “I meant, what happened?”
Middleton leaned back against the pillows and scowled. “That was a long time ago. Just a slight duel over a woman.”
She knew when not to press a man for more and there was obviously a lot more to that story. She covered his wound with some strips of cotton to keep the dirt out. “As long as you don’t get an infection, you should heal well.”
“Thank you.” He reached for her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her palm.
She yanked her hand back and jumped off the bed. He still hadn’t shaved and the sensation of his bristly beard and soft lips against her hand sent shivers through her. She walked to the window and stared down at the dark, empty street.
“Why would you want to give up doing something you are so good at?” he asked quietly.
Leaning her head against the window, she glanced back at him. She couldn’t tell him the truth. He would, like her mother, tell her to forget what happened and learn from it. “It’s all I’ve ever known. From the time I was two, I was following my mother to tenants’ houses and watching what she did. How many people do you know who by age ten could stitch a person’s wounds or set a bone?”
He closed his eyes for a long moment. “Not many at all.”
“I wanted to see another part of life,” she whispered the lie. “See London and all the fancy people here. Do something other than heal people all day long.”
“Why else?”
“I need to find your brother.”
His scowl returned. “Why?”
“Because he needs me.”
