Chapter Twenty-Four #2
He must have felt her stir because his eye flew open—yes, singular eye. His left one was so badly blackened, it was swollen shut. A neat row of stitches followed the curve of his cheekbone.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.
“Caroline, my love, you are awake.” He cupped her cheek with a battered hand, three of his fingers tied together in some sort of splint.
The relief shining in his silver eyes nearly moved her to tears because it was precisely how she felt upon seeing him, feeling him, hearing him.
He enfolded her into his arms; though he squeezed her a little too tightly, she did not care one bit. It was right where she belonged.
“How are you feeling? No pains?”
She shook her head against Gideon’s throat. “Not for a while. But I do not know if that is good or…or if there is something else wrong—”
“Do not work yourself up over this,” he said before she could become overwrought and stroked her hair. “You rested, just like you needed to. The babe continued to move—so much, in fact, that I am baffled by how you were able to sleep through it.”
There was no stifling her soft laugh at his affected indignation. Even as exhausted and injured as he was, he continued to put her first.
She stiffened as he pushed himself into a seated position with a groan. “Well, this is miserable,” he mumbled as he tested his joints.
“Please do not leave.” Caroline grabbed for his uninjured hand. She’d been so worried she would never see him again that she was afraid of letting him go just yet.
“I am only going to ring for McCullom, darling,” he said and brought her hand to his split lip. “He requested that I let him know when you awoke.”
Caroline tilted her head and cupped his cheek. “Your poor face. You fared better after your pugilism exhibitions.”
“Yes, well, I was not bound to a chair during those matches.”
“Bound to a chair?” she squeaked and sat up as slowly and carefully as she could.
Gideon rose from the bed and, not only was she granted an unencumbered view of his sculpted back and taut backside, but also all the mottled bruises covering his body.
“Gideon!” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “What happened to you?”
He pulled the rope with a sigh. “Quite a lot. And I’m tired and in a fair amount of pain, so I’d rather not recount every detail at the moment.”
“And Oliver? Is he similarly…battered?”
Gideon scoffed as he pulled on his torn and soiled breeches with a mild sneer of exaggerated disgust. “Barely a scratch on him. The man’s unnatural.”
“I don’t understand…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “What do you mean? What was all this for?”
“As it happens, Mr. Black was quite the important man in his past profession and he made a great many enemies.”
Caroline could only sit back in shock. So many questions spun ’round in her mind, but she did not have time to answer them before there was a knock on the door and Dr. McCullom entered.
He was dressed the same as the night before in a fresh outfit consisting of a crisp white shirt, cravat, and black breeches.
He was followed closely by the beautiful dark-haired woman who’d brought them their water.
Again, Caroline’s memory was tickled, and the woman’s identity came to her in a flash.
“You are Lady Juliette? Sister to the Earl of Hopesend?”
The woman smiled warmly. “You are correct, Lady Swanleigh. Dr. McCullom is my husband.”
“We do not spend as much time as we used to at this office; most of it has been taken over by my apprentice, Dr. Bianchi. He has been away on business these last two days, so I stayed here in case there were any urgent patients,” McCullom explained.
“And I enjoy helping when I can, as well as a regular change of scenery, so I came along. Neither of us expected quite so exciting an evening. I do hope both of you are feeling well; you certainly look much better than last night.” Gideon had made himself more presentable, though he looked rather more like a down-on-his-luck highwayman than a marquess with his injuries and deplorable clothing.
Caroline was worried she did not look much better.
Lady Juliette held up the tray she carried. “I’ve brought some food for the both of you if you are feeling up to it.”
“Thank you,” Caroline almost sighed when she caught the scent of warm bacon. “You are a saint.”
“Hardly,” the other woman said with a laugh as she placed the tray by the bed. “I am merely a conveyance for sustenance—that takes little talent and even less sainthood. Mrs. Green, the housekeeper, should receive all credit for preparation. Cooking and baking are not skills I’ve mastered.”
“Your pies have become a touch more palatable over the past few months,” remarked Dr. McCullom in an unexpectedly light tone.
Caroline was so caught off guard by his comment that she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a bubble of laughter.
The physician’s mien was so different from the previous evening—still mostly professional, still placing his patients’ care first, but he was lighter with his wife around.
To be honest, Caroline felt the same way.
There was something soothing about Lady Juliette’s broad smile, bright-blue eyes, and amiable personality.
That the daughter and sister of an earl had fallen in love and married a Scottish physician—an utter scandal a few years prior—and that she was even enthusiastic about assisting at her husband’s medical practice spoke of a woman who was unique… someone Caroline would love to know.
The lady swatted lightly at McCullom’s broad shoulder. “You concentrate on doing your duties and I shall do mine, thank you.”
His deep chuckle resonated through the room and he turned his attention to Caroline. “How was your rest?”
“I hardly stirred.”
“And your contractions? Have they abated?”
“They are a great deal more improved.” She watched him check the water in the pitcher to determine how much she’d had to drink.
It was nearly empty. Caroline had been parched from the ordeal and all the crying she’d done.
Her body had felt like a wrung-out sponge and the draw to that cool, clear water was something she hadn’t been able to ignore.
This seemed to please the physician and he nodded.
“This is all quite promising. Do I have your permission to perform a physical examination?” he asked, pointedly looking at Caroline and not her husband.
Most physicians consulted only the husband when making medical decisions, often not looking at or addressing the wife as if she were nothing more than a pet who had no bodily autonomy.
Not that she for a second believed Gideon would deny her care, but she quite liked how McCullom treated her.
“Yes, of course.”
“Is there anything you require, my lord?” Lady Juliette addressed Gideon.
The man stood watch at the foot of Caroline’s bed, arms crossed over his chest, his battered face turning all sorts of shades of yellow, green, blue, and purple.
She had to give Lady Juliette credit for not shying away from his appearance.
“I need nothing other than to know my wife is well,” he replied gruffly, but not unkindly. Caroline’s heart fluttered in her breast.
“Take some time to care for yourself,” said McCullom as he rinsed the mineral-scented soap from his hands with a fresh crock of hot water he’d carried up from the kitchens. “I will perform the examination and retrieve you when I am done so I can look over your injuries.”
“If you care to wash, Mrs. Green has been boiling water, and there is a tub for your use,” offered Lady Juliette when Gideon showed no sign of moving.
“I will be fine,” Caroline reassured him.
Gideon looked about to protest until he caught a hint of his own odor. “Perhaps that would be for the best.” He strode over and planted a lingering kiss on her lips.
“I agree,” Caroline murmured when he finally pulled away.
He narrowed his eyes at Caroline for her quip in a silent, playful promise of retribution. “I will return in short order.”