Free The Bargain by Mary J. Putney Page B

absently scratched between Isis’s ears. How could she have thought getting involved with someone’s life and death would be simple? She would rather not think of the major’s imminent death, and she certainly had not intended to witness it, but that could not be avoided now.
    Whenever she thought of David Lancaster, she wanted to cry. It was like a candle going out, reducing the amount of light in the world.
    She pulled her mind back to practical considerations. Fortunately Morgan had welcomed the opportunity to serve the major. The footman had a good heart and a steady hand, and Jocelyn had heard from Marie that he aspired to be a valet. Now he could get some real experience.
    Summoning the butler again, she said, “Order two wagon loads of straw and have it spread on the street outside. Make sure that it’s layered thickly—I don’t want Major Lancaster disturbed by the sound of traffic. Also, tell Cook to prepare food suitable for an invalid.” If the major could be induced to eat.
    After Dudley left, she ordered herself to be more patient with Sally Lancaster, since it would be impossible to avoid her sister-in-law entirely. Sally’s irritability was understandable given that she was devoted to her brother and had no one else to care about. With her looks and disposition, she probably never would again.
    Jocelyn did not even bother feeling guilty for the uncharitable thought.

    Sally had believed that the York had inured her to hospitals, but St. Bartholomew’s seemed ten times as crowded and twenty times as noisy. It had been founded in the Middle Ages by monks and appeared not to have been cleaned since. Bart’s treated many of London’s indigent and a clamorous, odorous lot they were.
    Nonetheless, the hospital trained some of the country’s best surgeons. As she passed through endless crowded wards, she supposed that was because the surgeons had so many patients to practice on.
    It took half an hour of walking and asking questions to locate anyone who knew anything about Ian Kinlock. At first she was told that he wasn’t in the hospital because “this was ‘is day for the swells.” Another listener chimed in that he’d seen the doctor ’imself that very day.
    Another half hour of searching brought her to the dingy little room where Kinlock was alleged to be found after he’d done his day’s work in the cutting ward. She settled down to wait on an uncomfortable wooden chair. A jumble of books, papers, and anatomical sketches covered the top of the battered desk and bookcase, with more tottering in stacks on the floor. Brilliant Kinlock might be, but neat he definitely wasn’t.
    After an hour of increasing boredom, Sally’s basic fondness for order asserted itself, and she began to straighten the books and papers. A small, grubby towel that had fallen behind the desk was pressed into service as a dust rag. Remembering how her scholarly father had felt about people who rearranged his books, she took great care not to shift anything to a new location. Nonetheless, simply squaring up the piles neatly and removing the dust did wonders for the appearance of the office.
    After tidying the desk, she started on the bookcase, working from top to bottom. On a cluttered middle shelf, her fingers brushed what felt like a china mug. She pulled it out and found herself holding a hollow-eyed, grinning human skull. She gasped and hastily replaced the ghastly relic, rather proud that she hadn’t dropped it from shock.
    An impatient voice with a definite Scots burr growled from the doorway, “That skull belonged to the last person fool enough to meddle with my office. Are you trying to become a mate to it?”
    Sally jumped and spun around, making a sound regrettably close to a squeak. The owner of the voice was a man of middle height with massive shoulders and a blood-splashed smock. His bushy dark brows provided a strong contrast to a