Free Gentlemen Formerly Dressed by Sulari Gentill

on the dangers of infection as he treated the burns with iodine and petroleum jelly.
    Milton took the tin from Clyde and read the label suspiciously. “What’s it for?”
    â€œI think it’s supposed to keep me from becoming an alcoholic.” Rowland took a fresh shirt from the wardrobe. “He also recommends I take up smoking cigarettes to calm my nerves.”
    Milton laughed. “Nerves? Since when do men have nerves?”
    Edna pushed open the door. “Dr. Pennyworth said he’ll come back in a couple of days to check the dressings,” she said, walking in and sitting on the bed.
    Rowland glanced down at the gauze patch on his chest. That he no longer had to look at the swastika was an improvement at least.
    â€œRowly’s got a drinking problem,” Milton announced, holding up the tin of Horlicks.
    â€œNonsense.”
    â€œNo, really. They’re medicating him with malted milk.”
    Edna reached over and took the tin. “I do love malted milk,” she said. “Shall we ask Mr. Beresford to make some now?”
    Milton grinned. “I suppose it mightn’t be so bad with a good measure of brandy.”
    Rowland grabbed a tie and slung it awkwardly around his neck. “Ed, would you mind?”
    â€œOf course not,” she said, standing and reaching up to tie it. Rowland had become less stubborn about accepting help in this respect. “It might improve your sleep,” she said quietly.
    â€œI’ll try it tonight,” he promised. At the very least, heating milk would give him something to do in the long hours before dawn when closing his eyes took his mind too easily back to that night in Munich.
    Beresford came to the door. His brow creased just slightly as he observed Edna adjusting Rowland’s tie and affixing his cufflinks. He cleared his throat. “There’s a young lady asking for you in the foyer, sir… a Miss Dawe. Shall I ask the concierge to accompany her up?”
    â€œMiss Dawe?” Rowland was clearly surprised. “Yes, of course.”
    He had just enough time to struggle into his jacket before Beresford admitted Allie Dawe into the penthouse.
    â€œOh my,” she said, looking about the apartment. “What super rooms, Mr. Sinclair.”
    Sober and composed, Allie looked rather different. Not quite pretty, she had, nevertheless, a pleasant face. Her dark hair was coiffed into some kind of elaborate twist and she wore a skirt suit which seemed at least a size too large. “I trust you don’t mind my calling on you like this, Mr. Sinclair, but as you invited me to get in touch… oh.” She stopped, her face falling quite dramatically asEdna walked out of the bedroom. When Milton and Clyde followed, however, Allie seemed to brighten a little.
    Rowland introduced his companions.
    Allie exhaled. “Thank goodness. I thought for a moment you might be married.”
    Rowland wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “And how are your hands, Miss Dawe?”
    She removed her gloves and attached them to a clasp on her handbag, before extending her hands for his inspection. The palms were lightly bandaged but she wiggled her fingers freely. “They are much recovered thank you.” She took the seat that Rowland offered her. “I’ve called to thank you for your consideration the other day, Mr. Sinclair. You were very gallant and I was not at my best.”
    â€œYou are most welcome, Miss Dawe.”
    Allie beamed. “My mother sends her regards, Mr. Sinclair, and hopes that you will visit us again when she is in a less distraught frame of mind.”
    Rowland paused to ask Beresford to serve tea—having already concluded, on the basis of past experience, that it was not wise to offer the girl anything stronger.
    â€œHow are you and your mother coping?” Edna asked kindly. “It must have been a terrible shock to lose your uncle like that.”
    â€œWell,