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“It truly would be no imposition,” the marchioness quickly added.
“I thank you both for your tremendous hospitality, but I simply could not. Honestly, I feel as fit…as…a fiddle…” His words were broken up by a fit of coughing.
“That is not the cough of a man who is fit, is it, Dr. Darrington?” the marquess asked.
I frowned but did not answer. Instead, I looked at my patient, who was clearly struggling to stand on his two feet, even with the aid of a footman. He was still sweating, his face pale and his breathing haggard, but his pride would not allow him to rest another day with them. And I had no other choice but to help him quickly back to his own home. “Worry not, my lord,” I said to the marquess. “I will accompany him home and stay if need be.”
“Surely to bleed me dry. If not with leeches, then of coin,” Lord Hardinge grumbled as his carriage approached.
“Whatever the cost, you must bear it. He’s already saved your life once,” replied the marquess, following us to the carriage.
“Yes…yes…” Once more, Lord Hardinge was taken over by his cough as he climbed in.
I waited for him to settle inside before moving to join him, when the marquess sought my attention.
“Dr. Darrington.”
I turned back, and his face was grave. He turned slightly so Lord Hardinge would not see before speaking again. “Should anything happen, send for me immediately. Do not simply take his word on the severity of his condition.”
“My lord, I will give him my utmost care as I do all my patients. I understand you.”
He looked me over, then nodded and allowed me to enter the carriage as well. The look on his face changed as he glanced back at Lord Hardinge. “Do not give him a hard time. I shall come to visit you.”
As they spoke, I caught sight of Verity in the window. The way her eyes widened, as if she had not expected to be seen while sitting so close to the window, made the corners of my lips turn up. What I did not anticipate was for her to smile in return. How I wished to be next to her, and how very many things kept that from ever being so.
“Charles, you have several children and a wife to concern yourself with if you wish not to go any grayer. Good day to you, and thank you again!” Lord Hardinge huffed and knocked once on the side of his carriage. “Driver!”
I watched as her figure grew smaller as the carriage pulled away. It was only then I could look to Lord Hardinge. He managed to keep his head up, body straight, and face void of all emotion. It looked as though he did not even take a full breath until we were finally through their gates and on the road. When he did, his body hunched over, and I immediately held the basin I’d asked the maid to put in the carriage out in front of him. He hurled into it for a good minute before falling back upon the seat, taking a deep breath.
“You did well to hold it all this time,” I said, placing the basin on the carriage floor and taking his hand to check his pulse. “That should be the last of it out of your system for now.”
“What wretched concoction did you give me?” He dabbed his mouth and forehead with his handkerchief.
“It is unpleasant, yes, but it was the only way I could be sure you would remove all of whatever it was you had consumed. Now, what is it that you were taking?” This morning, his only concern had been to leave the Du Bell residence, and he would not properly answer me until I had helped him in that matter first.
He exhaled slowly. “I thought to give up smoking. Sir Grisham said it would be in my best interest that I do so.”
“That is wise.” I nodded for him to go on.
“However, in doing so, I felt myself altogether worse—headaches, nausea, dizziness, not to mention the dry mouth. Sir Grisham said this was the effects of long-term tobacco use, and the only remedy was for me to purge the bad blood from my system.”
I almost hung my head, as I knew what he would say next. I had examined his body enough to have a clear idea. “And in what way did he suggest you purge?”
“The common practice, of course—bleeding, leeches, a few mustard baths, and the tonic for any stubborn remnants.”
“And how many times did you undergo this treatment?”
“Two or three times.”
I did my best to remain composed. “Two or three times a week?”
“A week? Sir Grisham said it would be most effective to do a treatment once or twice a day.”
Dear God on high.
“My lord.” My composure left the carriage altogether. “You have put yourself at tremendous risk! Any one of those treatments once a month alone would be dangerous.”
