Chapter 4

"The man who has sufficient power over himself to wait until his nature has recovered its even balance is the truly wise man, but such beings are seldom met with."

Giacomo Casanova

Audrey wanted to kick herself. She should have verified if Lord Trafford was injured the moment they had entered the sanctuary of the townhouse, but she had been distracted. As a result, he had lost more blood than if she had sprung into immediate action.

"The needs of the patient outweigh any other considerations."

Audrey held a lace handkerchief she had found in Lord Trafford's pocket to the bleeding gash, while reaching over the trunk. After lifting Flapper's birdcage to set it on the floor along with her cape, she fumbled with her free hand to unlock the trunk and throw the lid open. Feeling around, she lifted her valise from its gaping interior, set it beside her, then fumbled it open with trembling fingers. She struggled to lift him so she might wind a bandage around him to hold the handkerchief in place. Then, she could get him moved.

To be fair, we had to attain security before I could begin treatment.

Lord Trafford's eyes fluttered open to her great relief, his face abnormally pale in the dim interior. "Am I to die?"

Audrey scoffed, despite her misgivings. "Of course not! The cut is not that deep, but we need to get it treated and stop the bleeding. Can you stand so we can move you, or shall I summon a footman?"

What she had stated was true, but there were other complications to be addressed.

"I can rise."

Lord Trafford clutched his side and stood, but Audrey noted he was unsteady on his feet. The injury needed to be stitched and bound urgently to stem the bleeding.

Swaying, Lord Trafford made a declaration she was not expecting. "I need … to leave."

"Leave!" Audrey's exclamation was a shriek that made both of them jump.

"Before … they … return." Trafford pointed across the street. "I shall go to Aunty Gertrude's. Rose and Patrick will be in residence to care for me."

Audrey shook her head. "You need medical attention. You are still bleeding."

"Rose will have to take care of it. I cannot remain here. It is too dangerous for the household. For me … and for you." Lord Trafford bit his lip, clutching his side and struggling to remain on his feet.

If the assailant returns, I will be in danger, regardless. The scoundrel might believe I can identify him.

It was not the time to argue. But Lord Trafford was injured, and moving him seemed ill-advised.

"This is the home of an important earl. No one would attempt to attack you within its walls, so we will remain here."

"No!"

Audrey flinched.

Lord Trafford's face contorted into immediate contrition. Dropping his voice, he continued. "These people killed a baron. And they attempted to abduct a baroness. It is not safe for me to be here."

Under normal circumstances, Audrey's head would be clear and she would know with precision what she needed to do to assist her patient. However, these were not normal circumstances. Her hands were still shaking from the earlier violence she had witnessed, and the unexpectedness of it all scrambled her thoughts. The attacker had intended to kill the lord who was currently blinking in a disoriented daze. It had been brazen and vicious.

"I shall accompany you. I must ensure that your injury is treated correctly."

It would be fine, she assured herself. She would assist him to Lady Hays's home, bind his wound, and instruct Rose how to care for the patient.

What of the fever?

Audrey shoved the thought aside. She had learned from years of assisting her father that one could not anticipate future events in an emergency. One step at a time was what was needed. Order would be restored, but it must be attained one step at a time.

"I cannot ask you to do that, Miss Gideon. You have already been so brave, but your reputation …"

Audrey bit her lip. Lady Astley could arrive at any minute. The heavy rain must have caused considerable delay.

"The needs of the patient outweigh any other considerations."

"Never mind that. I am accompanying you because it will set my mind at ease. It is just across the street and the rain has worsened, so no one will see."

As if to confirm the correctness of her assertion, the sound of rain had increased to a dull roar outside. It was as dark as night with the thick covering of black clouds overhead blocking any light from the heavens above. God himself agreed with her taking care of this patient. If the current deluge continued, Lady Astley would be delayed even further. And even Lord Stirling could not dispute that caring for his heir must take precedence over what society viewed to be de rigueur. It would create a crisis of devastating proportions for the people of Stirling if something happened to Lord Trafford. He was their future lord, after all.

Audrey bent down to grab her cape, swirling it around her shoulders and raising the hood. The time for hesitation was over. The door to Lady Hays's home was a mere thirty or forty feet away, closer than Lord Trafford's room upstairs or the drawing room on the next floor. It was time to take care of her patient.

Lord Trafford was mumbling, staring down at the bloodied handkerchief pressed to his side, his face so white in the gloom it was incandescent. "Hang it all! I just wanted sodding breakfast."

Audrey rushed forward, throwing an arm around his waist for support. Lord Trafford was near to keeling over. The news that he had not eaten since the night before was unwelcome. No wonder he was so pale! He had been stabbed and lost blood on an empty stomach. She needed to get him to Lady Hays's forthwith.

"Make sure no one sees us."

Audrey nodded as Lord Trafford and she made for the front door. She would return before Lady Astley arrived.

Truly!

But … Just in case …

"Wait!"

Lord Trafford halted, and Audrey reached down. Taking hold of the birdcage, she swung it over to Lord Trafford.

"You must take Flapper."

He frowned. "What?"

"Carry the birdcage."

He accepted it, and Audrey reached down to shut her valise and grab hold of the handle. She would need her medical supplies. Hoisting it up, she cursed under her breath. The valise was a considerable weight. Along with Lord Trafford's tall frame leaning on her, she was bearing far more weight than she was accustomed to. She squared her shoulders and coaxed the injured heir to continue their journey to the front door.

She should summon one of the servants to assist her, but Lord Trafford appeared to think it would be better if they were not involved. And … They might inform Lady Astley where I am.

Flapper chirruped in alarm when she clumsily pulled the door open and they were met with a drenching gust. Once outside, she wondered if she had gone mad by agreeing to cross the street. A wall of water was an apt description for the scene that met them as they stood beneath the portico.

Glancing about, Audrey could see no one in the streets. She doubted anybody was about, but they would have to risk it. If they waited any longer, the bloodthirsty scoundrel could return and observe their movements, though it seemed unlikely he would have returned this soon after being frightened off. Surely he needed time to report back to his master and gather his wits?

Setting out into the rain, they stumbled and slipped their way across the street.

"Ring at the tradesman's entrance," muttered Lord Trafford.

Audrey guided them to the gate as directed, feeling around for the bell to ring it with frantic repetition. She waited a minute or two and rang it again. With great relief, bent with Lord Trafford's increasing weight bearing down on her, Audrey heard the door opening and looked down to see Patrick, one of Lady Hays's elderly retainers, inserting his leathery face through the cracked door.

"Who's there?" the old man cried through the pouring rain.

"It is Lord Trafford," Audrey shouted back. "He needs your assistance!"

"Master Julius?"

Patrick swung open the door, then sloshed up the stairs to assist her. Flapper's cage was deposited on the top step before Lord Trafford's weight lifted off her when Patrick took hold of him from the other side. Her patient groaned in pain as they gingerly navigated the wet steps to make their way inside.

Retrieving the cage which housed a sopping Flapper, Audrey took the opportunity to look about. She saw no evidence of anyone observing them. Truth be told, it was difficult to see anything in the dark street, shrouded by a thunderous waterfall. Rain this heavy was rare, she mused. A portent, perhaps? It had been a blessing. Without the rain, Audrey would have already left before the attack on Lord Trafford. He could have been killed if she had not been home!

Julius wassurprised how much the slash ached. Miss Gideon had told him earlier it was a shallow wound, but it hurt like hell. Perhaps he needed to eat?

Patrick helped him enter the kitchen, surprisingly spry for a man of his age. There was a steely strength to the aged servant, belying his short height.

"Have him lie down on the table," commanded Miss Gideon from behind him. Rose came running forward, her broad face wreathed with alarm while Miss Gideon placed her things, including the inexplicable birdcage, on a nearby bench before discarding her cape.

"Master Julius? What has happened?"

Rose's voice quavered in alarm, and Julius felt a pang of guilt at involving the pair in his troubles. No one would be aware he was here, he assured himself. They would be safe.

He hoped it was true, but he would address it once he had received the treatment he needed. "I was attacked on the street outside. It is imperative no one knows I am here."

Julius clutched his side, heading to the table with Patrick's assistance. Rose cleared some bowls that were laid out while Julius struggled out of his overcoat. When it was off, he threw it to a bench, then pulled off his boots with Patrick's assistance. Sitting on the table edge, Julius swung his legs up to stretch out on the long worktable where the staff prepared meals.

Rose handed him the towel she had over her arm, and Julius leaned up to rub his hair dry before dropping it on the table next to him. He had lost his favorite beaver out on the road, but it was sure to be ruined by the rain and mud out there. Julius would just have to buy another like it.

"I need hot water to wash the wound." Miss Gideon's voice was confident, and Julius admitted he was relieved to have her here. Little Audrey had followed her physician father everywhere and assisted him in treating patients. It was a godsend to have her at his side.

Rose gave a vigorous nod, her gray hair loosening under her mobcap, before running to hang a large iron kettle in the hearth.

Miss Gideon was adept in an emergency, he mused, as he shut his eyes in sweet relief. "Rose, do you have something I might eat? I am ravenous."

He was hoping it would help dull the pain if he had some sustenance in his body. His stomach was hollow after being up and about for such an extended time with nothing to fuel him.

Julius could sense Miss Gideon stepping up close beside him. A slight easing of pressure on his injury indicated that she had released his makeshift bandage. She pulled his velvet coat aside before unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"If Lord Trafford has an appetite, we should feed him to keep his strength up."

The sound of metal pots clanging was a blessed relief, and he salivated in anticipation of a meal. His physician's cool fingers tugged at his bloodied linen shirt, yanking it from his buckskins to lift it away from the injury she wished to examine.

"Perhaps …" He opened his eyes to gaze up at her. Silver-gray eyes swept over in question. "Perhaps under the circumstances, it will be easier to address me as Julius … Audrey?"

There was a glimmer of a smile on her full lips before she returned her attentions to the knife wound. "Very well … Julius."

Despite his circumstances, Julius could not help but enjoy the sensation of a beautiful woman touching him as he allowed his eyes to drift shut.

Audrey pulled the bench closer to the table with a loud scraping. Rifling through her valise, she clinked some items on the table beside him before leaving his side. He could hear her washing her hands before returning to sit down. She picked up the damp towel he had dried his hair with and bundled it against his side, presumably to prevent him from bleeding on the table.

Rose deposited a bowl on the table next to Audrey.

Audrey poured something into the bowl, and Julius peered down to see what she was about.

Turning to gaze at him, she nibbled on her lower lip. "This … is going to sting."

"What is it?"

"Warm water mixed with vinegar."

Julius squinted in confusion. "Why?"

"My father had me study ancient texts on how Romans treated battle wounds. They were highly effective—far better than many of the techniques physicians practice today."

Julius grimaced, giving a slight nod in assent. Of course she could read Latin. Audrey was an unusual female.

"Once we are done, you will eat."

Audrey swabbed the gash with the tepid vinegar mixture, and Julius clenched his teeth to hold back a scream. It hurt like bloody hell, and he turned his head away from her to hide his embarrassing facial contortions as he battled to refrain from shrieking out loud.

Eventually, she was done washing the wound out. Turning back and opening one eye, he gasped in dismay when he saw she was threading a needle. It would seem that Audrey was about to stitch him.

She looked up to find him staring at the needle flashing in her hand. "Would you care for some brandy before I continue?"

Swallowing hard, Julius nodded. Even on an empty stomach, anything that would dull the searing pain would be appreciated.

Audrey arched a brow at Patrick, who was hovering with an anguished expression.

"Ah'll be back."

Soon, Patrick had returned with a tumbler containing a shot of brandy, along with the crystal decanter. Julius lifted himself on one elbow, grabbing the drink and downing it in two loud gulps. As the warmth of it burnt his throat, the scalding pain subsided a little, and he lay back to woolgather about the breakfast he could smell Rose cooking nearby.

Audrey's fingers were on him, gripping the area around his wound. She was nimble with the stitching, her precision causing a minimal amount of discomfort other than the prick of the needle and the drag of the thread.

"It is complete."

Julius opened his eyes, peering down at the sutures along the left side of his midriff.

"Good grief! A couple of inches up and that dirty-dish would have nicked my heart!"

"You were fortunate," his carer agreed. "Rose, I need honey for the wound before I bandage him. Then he can eat."

The old servant's mouth fell open in dismay. "Honey? We don't 'ave any honey, Miss Gideon."

Julius was eyeing the plate of food in Rose's hands, but realized that the room had fallen silent. Looking back at Audrey, he saw she was frowning.

"I must apply honey to the wound."

Clutching his side, Julius rose to a seated position. "What is it?"

Audrey hesitated before opening her mouth. She shut it again.

His heart skipped a beat. "Is it the wound? Is it worse than you initially thought?"

"Nay." She shook her head. "But there … will be a fever. It is imperative that I obtain a quality honey to apply as soon as possible. The vinegar should help abate it, but … there is still a risk, I am afraid."

Dread crept through his veins. Infection and fever as a result of battle wounds took countless lives, but he had not thought that far ahead. He had been focused on reaching an anonymous place to hide out. His veins ran cold as he thought of what that might mean. Surely he was too weak to lose more blood?

"Will you need to do a bloodletting?"

Audrey growled, causing Julius and the servants to pull back in surprise.

"Bloodletting is for butchers! Pompous physicians pretend they know what they are doing, but their mortalities mount up! They have no respect for thousands of years of knowledge which flies in the face of their treatments while people pay for their arrogance with their lives! Nay, I will collect the honey and return to nurse you. It might be a bad night, but I will remain by your side to see you through it."

Julius was befuddled. He dearly wanted to eat, the imminent fever was worrying, and he had a murderer pursuing him because of his ill-advised antics. Grabbing hold of one fact would lessen the confusion crowding his thoughts. "What has the honey to do with it?"

"The Chinese have used it for thousands of years to treat open wounds. And the Romans used it on the battlefields. Papa experimented with it and found it noticeably reduced infection and healing time."

Julius furrowed his brow. "You read Chinese?"

Audrey squinted at him in amazement. "Of course not. Papa had translated publications."

Patrick cleared his throat. "I could collect some from the grocer. It's two blocks away."

She mulled on this for a moment. "Nay, I will collect it. I will bandage Lord Trafford so he can eat. Then you must help him up to a bedchamber. I shall collect the honey, and return to treat the wound."

Julius twisted his signet ring, remembering the risks Audrey was taking. "Are you meant to be somewhere? Lord Stirling left this morning, and you had a trunk in the entry hall."

She straightened her shoulders as if to steel herself. "Lady Astley is to collect me. She must have been delayed by the rain."

He stared at her, and she stared back.

"You must return."

"You need care."

"Rose and Patrick will take care of me."

Audrey shook her head. "You will need someone who is trained."

Julius twisted his ring ever faster. Scandal had forced both his chums to marry in the past few weeks. If Audrey did not return home …

"Julius?" His gaze returned to meet hers. "You will need proper care. It is the difference between life and death."

He frowned.

"You lost a lot of blood and there is a risk of fever. I am afraid it is going to be a bad night."

Her soft-spoken words penetrated the sticky thoughts clouding his mind, and Julius could not refute he was weak and he was giddy still.

"It is the brandy. I shall eat and feel better."

Audrey came over to his side, placing her cool hand over his to still the agitated toying with his ring. "The needs of the patient outweigh any other considerations. You and I must take this one step at a time, so I shall collect the honey while you eat and Patrick helps you upstairs. I will be back to take care of you."

As a wave of dizziness forced him to put an arm out to steady himself on the oak table, the wood grain of its surface beneath his fingers helping him to focus, Julius admitted he was not himself. He needed Audrey to stay. He … wanted her to stay.

"Markham House is on the way to the grocer," he finally replied in a hoarse voice.

Audrey tilted her head in question. "What of it?"

"I need you to deliver a note to a guest staying with the Duke of Halmesbury. He will want to know that I have narrowed the list of suspects in his father's murder. For the safety of the others involved, they must know this information."

Her face was reluctant as she thought about it, licking her lips. "I can deliver it, but I will need to be quick. Could I drop off the note with the servants so I can get back here in good time?"

"Agreed. Do you have paper and ink in that magic bag of yours?" Julius bobbed his head toward her valise.

"Of course."

She bent over the bench, sifting through the bag's contents until she brought out a leather notebook. Tearing a page from it with great care, she handed it to him, along with a lead pencil. Then she grabbed the birdcage and removed the starling, sitting on the bench to deftly replace the wet dressing that held its wing in place. Julius could not help but admire her resilience under pressure. Audrey was an exceptional ally to have in his corner under such circumstances.

He bent his head to scratch out his note, observing with dismay that his shirt was speckled with drops of blood, some of which made it onto the page. He wiped them away as best he could with the cuff of his bloodied shirt, but he had not the energy to start again.

It is not Smythe. 1 of the other 3. Do not inform Peel until you hear from me. - Traf....

Gadzooks! He could barely finish signing his own name.

But, when he was recovered, there was a genuine possibility he could find the killer based on this morning's events. It would be premature for Brendan to contact the Home Office to speak to Sir Robert Peel. Nay, his friends must wait.

Folding the note, he handed it to Audrey. "It is for Lord Filminster. He is the duke's brother-in-law. The duke has trustworthy servants, so you can leave it with whomever answers the door."

Audrey had been donning her cape while he was writing. Returning to his side, she took the note and stuffed it into her pocket. "You must eat and drink before you go upstairs."

He grunted, too weary to speak. Rose placed the plate in his hands, and Julius devoured his eggs with single-minded focus, sitting on the table like a barbarian. But he did not care. He would have eaten them with his bare hands if Rose had not provided the fork with such efficiency.

Food!

Stepping aside, Rose pulled a large brass key from the pocket of her apron. "This'll allow you out the door by the mews."

Audrey took the key, which looked gigantic in her delicate hand. One of the gentle hands that had treated him with professional competence.

As his unpredicted physician exited the kitchen to the garden beyond, he called out, "Be careful. No one must see you!"

She threw him a smile over her shoulder. "I shall be but a ghost in the rain."