Not Always a Saint

by Mary Jo Putney

  As Daniel removed the footman’s shirt, he continued, “Very useful things, railings. At my Bristol infirmary, I’ve treated any number of people who fell down steps. I can fix a broken arm, but a broken neck is quite another matter. Luckily, your neck is in fine shape and your head doesn’t seem to have any serious damage. As for your shoulder . . .”

  Lester’s shoulder looked square, not round, a clear indicator of dislocation. The young man moaned as Daniel gently examined the damaged joint. A simple dislocation with no apparent damage to the humerus. The sooner the bone was back in its socket, the better. “You’re fortunate. Your arm isn’t broken, but the bone was knocked out of the shoulder socket. I’ll move it back into place. This will hurt, but it will only take a couple of minutes and then the worst of the pain will go away. You’ll have to lie down.”

  He took off his own expensively tailored coat and spread it on the floor. Suzie said, horrified, “Oh, don’t do that, sir! I’ll get a blanket from the laundry room.”

  “That will be more comfortable for Lester.” Daniel tossed his coat over a chair. “While you’re in the laundry, could you find a piece of fabric that will do for a sling?”

  “Yes, sir.” She darted off.

  “Mrs. Simond, is there some brandy I could give Lester to help him relax?” Daniel asked.

  The cook nodded toward the adjoining pantry. “The locked cabinet in there.” She tossed him a ring with several keys. “The key with a red thread tied on it. Leave the bottle out. I’m thinking we’ll all be in need of some by the time you’re done.”

  “You are a jewel of a cook, Mrs. Simond.” Daniel caught the key and opened the cabinet. Inside were several bottles of the kinds of alcohol used in cooking. He poured some brandy in a cup, then added water to reduce the kick.

  “Drink slowly,” he said as he placed the cup in the footman’s shaking left hand. “You may not like the taste, but it should help you relax and numb the pain a little.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Lester sipped, made a face, then sipped more.

  By the time he’d finished, Suzie was back from the laundry room. She carried two faded but clean old quilts and a worn shawl that would be a good size for a sling. She was a clever girl.

  After spreading the folded quilts out on the cold floor, she offered Lester a folded handkerchief. “This is clean if you want to bite on it.”

  His face was pale and beaded with sweat, but he nodded and accepted the handkerchief. Daniel helped him from the chair, then lowered him down onto the quilts. “This will look strange, but it works, and your shoulder will be fixed in just a few moments.”

  He pulled off his shoes, glad he hadn’t worn boots, then sat on the floor on Lester’s right side and set the sole of his foot against his patient’s ribs. As he clasped Lester’s hand, he said, “I’m going to slowly pull your arm up and back until the bone snaps back into the socket. Suzie, talk to him about anything that will distract him.”

  Suzie obeyed, standing where Lester could see her easily as she chatted about the fine weather and Mrs. Simond’s wonderful pies and what a splendid mouser Badger was. Her comments were humorous, which helped hold Lester’s attention as Daniel carefully raised the arm and manipulated the humerus back into place.

  He felt a distinct clunk when the bone slipped back into the shoulder socket. Lester exhaled and spat out the folded handkerchief, which showed teeth marks. “I could use that cup of tea now, Suzie. And maybe add some brandy, if Mrs. Simond doesn’t object.” Despite his jaunty words, his face was pale and beaded with sweat.

  Mrs. Simond finished shaping her dough and wiped her hands clean. “I wager we could all use some of that tea with brandy!”

  Suzie poured four cups from the pot that had been steeping. Fixing Lester’s shoulder had been so quick that the tea hadn’t even cooled.

  Daniel helped Lester to his feet, then guided him back into his chair. As he fashioned a sling to support the arm, he said, “Your shoulder will hurt for a while and you’ll need to wear this sling. Only light duties around the household. I’ll give you a dose of laudanum so you’ll sleep well tonight.” He draped Lester’s coat over the young man’s shoulders for warmth. “In a few days, when your shoulder is feeling better, I’ll show you some simple exercises to keep the joint from getting stiff.”

  As Suzie handed him a cup of tea, she asked shyly, “How can a lord be a surgeon, sir? I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

  Daniel realized that all three of the others were studying him with varying degrees of amazement. He hesitated, realizing that he’d surely be asked this question again in the future. “Being a lord is an accident of birth. A very unexpected one in my case.” He took a deep swallow of tea. “Medicine is my true calling.”

  As the words resonated within him, he recognized how invigorated he felt after behaving like a doctor for the first time in days. Ever since learning of his inheritance, his life had been turned upside down. Kirkland and Laurel had been invaluable in helping him come to terms with his new status and responsibilities, but medicine kept him sane and gave meaning to his existence. He had to keep his work at the center of his life rather than allowing it to be eroded away by other demands on his time and energy.

  If he was to continue to be a surgeon and physician, he must find a wife who would not only be able to manage the Romayne estate, but support him in his eccentric choice of career. Not to mention that she must be pleasant and trustworthy.

  The task of wife hunting had just become much more difficult.

  Daniel had been looking forward to Kirkland’s dinner for Westerfield graduates, but even so, he was surprised by the pleasure he felt in seeing men he’d known when they were all young and life had been so much less complicated.

  Daniel’s classmate Damian Mackenzie was the first to arrive. He hadn’t lost his wicked sense of humor, but he’d acquired a fashionable gambling club and a glorious, exotic wife who seemed as intelligent as she was beautiful. Justin Ballard, who had been a year ahead, appeared with tanned skin and sun-streaked hair because he lived in Portugal and managed his family’s port wine business. He shook Daniel’s hand warmly, saying he was returning to Oporto in the morning but was glad not to miss this reunion.

  Lady Agnes Westerfield swept in grandly, as befitted a duke’s daughter who hadn’t lost her sense of style even though she worked with grubby boys. She was instantly surrounded by former students, like a favorite aunt bearing gifts.

  Daniel smiled when she waved at him. As he made his way across the room toward her, he realized that since starting to look for a wife, he’d begun to evaluate women for the qualities that he wanted to find. Lady Agnes had intelligence, originality, and great kindness, with a legendary skill at healing the spirits of troubled boys.

  In his years at the academy, Daniel had only known her to fail once, and that was with a deeply troubled boy who was incorrigible. Perhaps he should ask if she had any available nieces who were cast in her mold?

  No, she was one of a kind, but it might be worth consulting her to see if she knew any women who might be a good match. Even all these years after he’d left her school, he suspected she knew him better than almost anyone else in his life other than Laurel and perhaps Kirkland.

  Behind him a babble of greetings arose as new guests arrived. Daniel turned and was delighted to see the Duke of Ashton. Intelligent and reserved, Adam Lawford had always had a faintly exotic air because of his half-Hindu heritage. He’d been the one who taught his classmates the Hindu fighting skills that had become a school tradition, passed down from class to class.

  For the first time, it occurred to Daniel that Lady Agnes and her partners in the school had encouraged the study of Kalaripayattu not just because it helped students work off excess energy, but because it was a compelling form of discipline. One couldn’t do Kalaripayattu well without self-mastery, which most of the students had needed.

  Lessons and bouts were always monitored by older students who were skilled in the fight
ing techniques. If a boy lost control and became dangerous, he was immediately pulled away and he wasn’t allowed to participate for a week. Because the fighting lessons were so popular, the risk of suspension was another inducement to self-mastery. Clever Lady Agnes!

  Ashton had a petite, laughing blond beauty on his arm. Laurel had told Daniel that Mariah was called the Golden Duchess, and it was easy to see why.

  Behind Ashton was Alex Randall. He had a dark-haired woman on each side, all three smiling at some remark.

  Daniel froze. One woman was petite and appealing—and the taller one was the woman in black. She was closer to him than when he’d seen her at the rout, and the light was better. She was even more shockingly beautiful than he’d thought, with an innate sensuality powerful enough to drop a normal man in his tracks.

  Dear God, was she Randall’s wife?

  The stabbing pang he felt lasted only a moment. When the smaller woman tucked her hand around Randall’s arm, Daniel saw the deep intimacy between them. She must be his wife, Lady Julia.

  Again Daniel found himself moving involuntarily toward the woman in black. For an instant he checked his movement because this was a woman who was too glamorous, too social, for a man like him. Then he continued on because he must find out who she was before he drove himself mad.

  Rather than addressing her, he extended his hand to Randall. “It’s a pleasure to see you again after all these years, Alex! I gather life has been treating you well?”

  “Very well.” Randall returned the handshake with a wide smile. “I survived the army, and persuaded the woman of my dreams to marry me.” He gave the petite woman a warm glance. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Julia. Julia, meet Daniel Herbert, the newly fledged Lord Romayne.”

  Randall’s wife smiled. “Even without the introduction, I’d know you for Laurel’s brother. I’m so glad to meet you, Lord Romayne.”

  Daniel returned the smile. “You’re a midwife, aren’t you? We shall have to have a professional discussion later.”

  Lady Julia laughed. “I fear we’d run out of conversation quickly. I’m a mere midwife while you are a physician, surgeon, bonesetter, apothecary, and now a lord!”

  “And of those, being a lord is the least interesting,” he said ruefully. “With medical work, I do what needs to be done, but I’m not equally skilled in all areas.”

  Lady Julia nodded with understanding. “It was much the same in the village where I lived for a number of years. There was no other medical help for miles around, so I treated wounds and set bones and did what I could.”

  Daniel thought wryly that it was a pity she was already married, for surely they would suit well. Though he’d still have to find an estate manager.

  “Let me introduce our friend, Lady Kelham, as well,” Randall said. “Jessie, the new Lord Romayne was a class behind me in school, and had the remarkably irritating habit of almost always being right.”

  “With age, I’ve realized that right and wrong are much harder to tell apart than I thought when I was younger,” Daniel said as he turned to Lady Kelham.

  Now that they’d been properly introduced, Daniel allowed himself to look directly into the eyes of his lady in black. And lightning shattered him again.

  Chapter 9

  Damn the man! When had he become a lord? Jessie had recognized him immediately at that cursed rout, but it had never occurred to her that a provincial doctor might turn up in this small, private gathering.

  “Lady Kelham.” His words and bow were polite and civilized, his voice rich and compelling, but his eyes blazed with desire. Though she was used to men being drawn to her appearance, she was jarred by her response. She hadn’t felt so attracted to a man since she was a foolish, desperate sixteen-year-old. And look how badly that had turned out!

  “Lord Romayne.” She wanted to smile warmly and extend her hand, but he was not husband material. Too young, and they had met during a period of her life she’d done her best to forget. She returned his greeting with the cold courtesy she’d learned over the years. Ice was useful in suppressing a man’s fire.

  But her manner had no effect, for he continued to regard her with unsettling intensity. Odd that she remembered him clearly for his kindness, yet she’d forgotten how handsome he was. She didn’t remember him as fashionable, either, but tonight his immaculately tailored black clothing and crisp white shirt and cravat would have done credit to Beau Brummell himself. The severity of his garments set off his blond good looks.

  Instead of flirting, he said, “My condolences on your loss.”

  The sincerity in his voice threw her off balance. Belatedly she realized his clothing might also be mourning. But no matter. She could use her widowhood to keep him at a distance. “Thank you. My husband died quite recently.” She swallowed back a genuine stab of grief. “He was quite possibly the best man who ever lived.”

  “Then your loss is even greater,” he said quietly.

  The sincerity was real, she could see it in his eyes, along with the knowledge of death that doctors had. But there was some other, subtler emotion visible, too. Regret that she might not be interested in a new husband, now or ever?

  She reminded herself that she shouldn’t be watching him so closely, but attraction could cloud sense, and he was unsettlingly attractive. Wanting to turn the conversation away from herself, she asked, “Are you also in mourning? It’s harder to tell with men since they wear black more often.”

  His blue-gray eyes shadowed. “Both my parents died suddenly.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She realized that Julia and Randall had moved on and were talking with others, leaving her and Lord Romayne with too much privacy.

  She was about to excuse herself when he snagged two glasses of sparkling champagne from the tray of a passing footman. As he handed her a glass, he asked, “Forgive me, Lady Kelham, but you seem familiar. Have we met before?”

  His fingers brushed hers as she accepted the champagne. Even through her gloves, she felt a sear of heat as if she’d touched a candle flame. Dear God, she must kill this curiosity and get away from him! She took a sip of champagne as she steadied her nerves. “I doubt it,” she replied in her coolest tone. “I am new to London society.”

  “As am I,” he said, unfazed by her coolness. “I’m from the West Country and I’ve lived in or near Bristol most of my life. Are you from that area?”

  “My home is in Kent. It’s unlikely our paths have crossed.” Which wasn’t quite a lie but should be enough to deter his questions.

  Undeterred, he said, “I went to school in Kent. Perhaps I saw you there.”

  He’d have been well past his school days by the time she’d settled in Kent, but Jessie felt no need to tell him that. “Perhaps.”

  Even though she knew she should leave, she found that she didn’t want to. Succumbing to curiosity instead, she asked, “Was Lady Julia serious when she said you have such a range of medical skills, Lord Romayne? Surely all the training required must have been very time-consuming.”

  “I didn’t sleep much for a decade or so,” he replied with an engaging chuckle. “The different medical disciplines are not unrelated, so separating them does patients no service. Physicians may be highly educated and considered gentlemen, but it’s hard to diagnose disease from the opposite side of the room because they would consider it vulgar to actually touch human bodies.”

  She laughed, thinking of the more hidebound physicians she’d met. “Which is why you learned the ungentlemanly trade of surgery? That most certainly requires physical examination.”

  “Exactly. Healing requires understanding how bodies work, which comes more from clinical experience than theory.” He shook his head. “There is so much we don’t know. But good men are working constantly to increase our knowledge.”

  “And perhaps some good women as well,” she pointed out. “Lady Julia told me that she was fascinated by all forms of medicine from the time she was a child, and she spent as many hours as she could with the lo
cal practitioners.”

  “Really? I did the same,” he said, intrigued. “Medicine is a calling, I think, and very hard to deny. Lady Julia’s patients are fortunate that she was called to midwifery. I’ve always suspected that a female midwife has a better respect and understanding for the territory.”

  “How remarkably enlightened you are,” she said with admiration. His passion for his work was obvious, and it made him even more attractive. She shouldn’t enjoy the growing warmth between them, but how dangerous could it be when they were in a room full of people? “Have you been successful at combining your various skills?”

  He grinned, and she realized that he was younger than she’d thought. Only a few years older than she was. “That depends on how you define success,” he replied. “I never lack for patients, but since I run a free infirmary, that’s not surprising.”

  She knew about his infirmary, but better to pretend she didn’t. “I imagine all kinds of patients come seeking help.”

  “Exactly. I might not be as knowledgeable about midwifery as Lady Julia, but if I’m the only medical help available when a baby comes, I’ll do my best. I haven’t lost a mother yet,” he said seriously. “I can also set bones and compound medications if necessary, though again, an experienced bonesetter or apothecary would be better.”

  The man was a saint in a world that could use more like him. “You are wasted as a lord,” she said. “What do lords contribute to society, after all? While a good and versatile doctor like you saves lives. What is most challenging in your work?”

  “Knowing when to do nothing,” he said wryly. “Hippocrates said physicians should first do no harm, but it’s difficult to know when it’s best to act, and when it’s best to step away.”

  “I’ve never thought of that,” Jessie said slowly. “When seeing a person in distress, the first impulse is to help. But it’s true that if left to its own devices, a body will often heal itself.”