She’d murmured a few words and then fallen unconscious on the ride back. When he got to the house, he’d rushed up the front steps, kicking open the front door and almost knocking over poor Stanhope, who was just coming to open it.
Michael had barked out orders as he ran up the staircase, for Dr. Bianchi, Celia, Doris, and everyone else to see to Emma’s injuries. He could hear Lady Beadle and Aunt Chippie bickering as they came to see what the commotion was about. But that didn’t concern him either. Stanhope could play referee between them.
But he had faith in his staff and, yes, in Doris and certainly Celia, who came upstairs moments after he kicked open Emma’s bedroom door. They ushered him out while they undressed Emma and called him back inside after she was in bed.
Hastings escorted Dr. Bianchi in a few minutes later. Michael quickly explained her injuries—the rope burns and the injury to her head—and asked that the doctor examine her thoroughly. He’d already taken Celia aside and asked her and Doris to stay. He’d also asked Celia to request that the doctor examine Emma to make sure Morgrave hadn’t violated her. Celia assured him that they would do everything to make sure all of Emma’s injuries were tended to.
He sighed with relief, and then his knees buckled, and he nearly fell from his leg wound and the resulting blood loss. Luckily, Hastings had grabbed him by the arm and helped him to his own room, where he proceeded to help him undress and wash the grime away, especially on his leg.
Dr. Bianchi bustled in an hour later, just as Hastings was applying pressure to the wound that continued to bleed.
“How is Emma?” Michael asked, feeling his chest constrict at the serious look on Dr. Bianchi’s face.
“Calm yourself, my lord,” the doctor said as he set his medical bag on the bedside table. “We examined Lady Emma thoroughly, and other than the injury to the back of her head, which required a few stitches, she had only a few minor cuts and bruises in addition to the rope burns on her wrists and ankles. And that is all,” he said meaningfully as his eyes met Michael’s. “No other injuries of any kind. I left her in the good care of the ladies. She did awaken while I was examining her and was able to answer my questions fully. She is lucid, and she will make a full recovery.”
Michael let out a deep breath. “Thank you, doctor.”
“But she was very agitated and wanted to know ifyouwere all right, my lord.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said you would tell her yourself when you saw her.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “I hope you reassured her.”
“I did, of course. Now, let us tend to your leg so that you can go to Lady Emma and reassure her yourself, hmm?”
“I might need a few stitches on this damn leg,” Michael muttered.
“I think you might need more than that, my lord,” Dr. Bianchi said as he examined the wound. “Tell me everything that happened before and after you were stabbed.”
Michael told the doctor about the mad ride on horseback to catch up to Morgrave to stop him from kidnapping Emma, and then how he’d leaped onto Morgrave’s horse and sent them both toppling to the ground just as Morgrave stabbed him in the leg. They fought, and Morgrave was subdued. He didn’t go into further detail about that part—that he had beaten Morgrave to a pulp. But given the good doctor’s arched brows, he must have figured it out.
“How is he, doctor?” Wright asked. He and Armstrong had just come up to the room and were standing just inside with their backs to the door. It was as far as Dr. Bianchi and Hastings would allow, both saying they needed a large, uncrowded area around Michael to keep the wounded area clean.
“I think he may be very pleased with my findings. Give me just a minute to check what I’m seeing,” Dr. Bianchi said, still probing into the wound. “My lords, I think the stabbing of Lord Wilton’s leg, along with the heat of battle, led to something quite extraordinary. If you’ll just lie still as can be, I shall show you what I mean momentarily.”
“I shall be as still as a log, Bianchi,” Michael replied.
“Good, but just in case, we’ll have Hastings’s help.”
With a quick nod, Hastings held down Michael’s leg while the doctor proceeded to disinfect the wound. Michael hissed at the sting but, true to his word, kept still as the doctor took a pair of tweezers and began to poke around in the wound. A fewmoments later he pulled out a small piece of twisted metal and held it up to the candlelight.
“Aha, there we have it.”
“Was that from the knife?” Michael asked. Did the tip of the knife break off and lodge itself in his leg?
“No, my lord. This is a piece of shrapnel left over from your old injury. It must have become embedded deep in the bone and then loosened from the stabbing and the fall from the horse. It appears that the knife hit your thigh bone, likely hitting an area impacted by this old wound. Perhaps right alongside it. As I understand it, damage from the previous gunshot wound is the source of your limp and ongoing pain. I’ve always suspected there was shrapnel still in there, and now, it appears a large piece has been dislodged. It was buried deep in the bone and was probably unable to be detected at the time.” He waved his hand in the air in a flourishing movement, as if making the point.
“Lady Bethany Romney thought she had gotten all of it,” Armstrong said.
“And she probably did retrieve all she could find. But this larger fragment had embedded itself deep in the bone. The knife’s tip struck it and broke it free. Remarkable!” Dr. Bianchi said. “I’ve no other explanation for what appears to be a true silver lining for this man.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me for not being as thrilled about this as all of you are, could you please sew me up so that I can get back to Emma?” Michael asked.
“Of course,” the doctor said with a smile.
“So, if I’m following this correctly, if he gets through the healing and any possible fever that comes with it, he could find himself without the pain he’s endured,” Hastings said. “Is that correct?”
