and seems vastly improved,” she responded as the doctor moved past her to stand in the middle of the room.
“Does he? We shall see,” he stated cryptically.
Bella followed the doctor up to her room, where they found the duke already sitting up in bed.
“Your grace, may I present Dr. Pearce?”
“How do you do, Dr. Pearce? Shall I live?” the duke questioned with cheerful irreverence.
A little nonplussed at the duke’s attitude, Dr. Pearce stuttered for a moment, casting a quizzical glance to Bella.
Bella shrugged slightly, and smiled. Since the duke had come out of his fever, she, too, was finding him a surprise.
“Well, we shall see, your grace. Let’s have a look at you.”
Dr. Pearce helped Westlake remove his nightshirt. He then retrieved a pair of scissors from his black bag and proceeded to cut away the bandages wrapping the duke’s shoulder.
Bella stood back and watched with her hands claspedtightly together, wincing as the doctor probed the ugly, swollen wound with none-too-gentle fingers.
“Humph,” the doctor grunted, continuing his examination.
Bella could not help but marvel at the duke’s tolerance for pain, for she recoiled at the doctor’s attentions more than he did.
Just when she was about to lose control and shout out to the physician to be careful, he finally sat back and gave the duke an assessing look.
“Well, it certainly could be worse, but I have seen a lot better,” he said. “I don’t like the amount of swelling, and by the looks of the bandages, the wound has been seeping. But there does not seem to be any obvious infection.”
The duke nodded his understanding to what the doctor was saying. Looking past Dr. Pearce, Westlake was struck by Bella’s concerned expression. Most of the ladies of his acquaintance would be reaching for the hartshorn by now, he thought, unaccountably touched by her gentle and unexpected kindness.
“You must have complete rest for another full week, at least. You are still feverish, which may be due to being out in the storm. I’d be happier if you rested a fortnight, but I have the feeling that you are an impatient young man,” the physician declared.
The duke had no response and allowed the doctor to rebandage his shoulder in silence.
Bella was enormously relieved when she saw the doctor to the door. He was right: It certainly could have been worse.
Bella went back to her room to see how the duke was faring after the doctor’s rough treatment of him. She found him still sitting up, but his eyes were closed. Hesitantly, she decided to leave him to rest. Turning, she walked softly to the door.
“Won’t you please stay a moment, Miss Tichley?” His deep voice stopped her movement. “Of course, your grace.” She walked back and seated herself in the rocking chair. Silently, she watched him for a few moments. Her concern for him grew as she noticed a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“The pain must be very bad.” She almost whispered the words.
He turned his head toward her slightly and opened his eyes. He met her beautiful gaze, and again saw the concern and compassion there.
A wry little smile touched his lips. “It could be worse,” he said, repeating the doctor’s succinct words. He closed his eyes again.
Trying to find some way to ease his pain, Bella suddenly recalled the small vial of laudanum the doctor had left days ago. She had given him very little of it, so she knew there was some left.
“Your grace, will you take a few drops of laudanum? It will help with the pain.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her with his startling gray gaze. “No, Miss Tichley, no laudanum.” He shook his head emphatically.
Seeing the question in her eyes, he continued: “I have seen too many men, brave soldiers, reduced to bland, needy simpletons because they were given too much laudanum after being injured on the battlefield.”
An expression of surprised curiosity spread across Bella’s features.
“Were you in the war, your