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“Rough area,” commented the surgeon. “I wouldn’t go there at night, myself. But if the lad knows the neighborhood, he’ll be fine. They grow up awfully young in places like that—likely he’s used to scrambling for himself, like a feral cat. I wouldn’t worry much about the child.”
“Bring him here,” Lady Josephine said decisively. “It will be a comfort to Mr. Smith, when he awakens, to know the lad is safe.”
“You are good-hearted, my lady,” the butler said. “But how to find the lad? Wait, I have a thought. If those friends come back to inquire after Mr. Smith’s condition—”
“—they may know,” agreed Lady Josephine. “Please do what you can, Mr. McTavish.”
Packing up his black leather bag, the surgeon soon departed. McTavish stirred the coal fire and adjusted the patient’s blankets. “That’s it then, my lady. We’ll leave Mr. Smith to his rest. Are you coming along, then?”
Lady Josephine had thought to stay behind when the others left the room, to sit beside Ace, to hold his hand and to place a kiss on his brow. Perhaps he might feel her touch, her kiss, even though he was asleep.
“I’ll just remain here a few minutes to be sure he’s resting comfortably, Mr. McTavish.”
The proper old butler slightly raised one eyebrow. “Forgive me, my lady, but it would be...inappropriate...for you to be up here in the male servants’ wing by yourself. If you wish to remain, I will stay here as well.”
So I am to be denied even that. Even in his sleep, there is to be a barrier between us that propriety won’t let me cross.
“It’s all right, Mr. McTavish. I’ll go downstairs with you now.”
But I will be back when the coast is clear. Ace, you can count on me.
