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“No.” Nothing else, she just stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“I said no. You are not going anywhere, my lord. You cannot be moved for a while. Your injuries are too great to survive a ride in a carriage, coach or wagon.”
He narrowed his eyes, beginning to dislike this woman who thought herself a doctor. “Define ‘for a while’.”
“It is truly hard for me to say, because it depends on how your body heals. With the way you’ve abused your body with drinking and God knows what else, I’m afraid it will be at least a few weeks.”
“A few weeks! No. That will not do. I cannot lay here in this infirmary for a few weeks.” He shook his head. “No. I must send for my driver.”
She leaned over him, practically nose to nose. “Listen to me, Lord Sterling. You were in bad shape physically before you were stupid enough to engage in a horse race while drunk. Now that you’ve done severe damage to your body, you are at risk for infection and improper healing. The last thing you need is more alcohol. You need food and rest.”
His anger turned to panic. No brandy? No wine, or ale? This woman must have been sent from the devil. “All right. Tell me what’s so very wrong with me that I have to stay here for—” He waved his hand around. “—whatever it was you said.”
The doctor stood and walked to the counter and picked up the pad she’d been writing on when he awoke. She settled back on the stool and flipped back through a few pages.
“You have a broken tibia—”
“—stop! Please use terms I can understand. I know nothing about medicine.”
He could have sworn she mumbled he knew nothing about anything, but he chose to ignore it.
“You have a broken bone in your right lower leg. You cracked two—I think—ribs. A sprained wrist. Aside from that, you have cuts, scrapes, a black eye, and other bruises all over your upper body.” She closed the pad and looked at him. “Since you said the last thing you remember is racing your horse and being thrown, I can only assume upon landing you collided with a sturdy object. The scrapes and cuts could be from whatever it was you hit, or from striking the ground.”
Edwin closed his eyes, trying to remember where they were when the race took place. He thought it was Queen Victoria Park, but things got a little muddled after they left the Grossman ball.
Dr. Stevens stood and glared at him. “Reconcile yourself to the fact that you will be here for a few weeks. You will be given plenty of healthy food and when you can move a little bit, a trip to the garden for fresh air.
“There will be no spirits of any kind, and no cigars, if that is also your habit. You will eat three full meals a day, drink plenty of water and sleep whenever your body tells you to.” She leaned over him, her eyes snapping, her cheeks flushed.
The God of Vengeance.
“Aren’t I going to be an expensive guest?” Again, he tried his best smile, but she never flicked an eyelash.
“You are no guest, my lord. You are a patient and believe me when I tell you that the bill I present to you will cover all your needs. Do I make myself clear?”
He was getting mighty annoyed with the doctor. He hurt, he needed a drink and the last thing he wanted to do was remain in this den of purity for a few weeks. “And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I will arrange to have your driver pick you up as requested and will make time in my schedule to attend your funeral the following week.” She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “It’s your choice, my lord.”
With those words she turned on her heel and left the room. He hadn’t been chastised like that since he’d been a lad in short pants.
Chapter 2
Rayne dipped a linen into a pan of cool water and ran it over Sterling’s face. It had been three days since he’d been deposited on her doorstep. His injuries had not been her main concern, however.
He’d been in withdrawal from his alcohol addiction since he arrived. He was unable to sleep, shook so hard when she tried to feed him and offer him water that it invariably spilled all over him and his bedclothes.
“If you would give me just a little bit of brandy, I would feel much better,”
Sterling said as he pushed her hand away.
“Yes. I know that. You would feel much better, but you would need to keep drinking it until you passed out again.” She tried again to make him comfortable by wiping his face and arms.
He smiled at her, which looked more like a grimace. “At least if I’m unconscious I wouldn’t annoy you.”
The man was covered with sweat, his face as pale as new snow. He hadn’t been able to keep down any of the food she forced him to eat, and truth be told she was concerned at this point that she might very well be attending his funeral the next week. There was just so much a body could take, and with the injuries he’d suffered, combined with this problem, healing was precarious.
