Chapter Ten
Roget’s Surgery and Clinic
Mayfair, London
Each time the door opened to the clinic, a swathe of chilly air blew into the large treatment room. A shiver rippled down Anne’s spine, for there was no doubt in her mind that winter had come to London and that it intended to stay a while.
She glanced across the room. When her gaze met that of Edward Roget—or rather Lord Chesterfield, and the founder of the surgery—she gave him a quick smile.
He had been one of Alan’s close friends, and though her brother had apparently gone on to work with the Home Office, Lord Chesterfield had continued to study medicine and had opened this health center.
“It could be a long, cold winter,” she mentioned in a casual voice to the head of the clinic as he came near.
“Perhaps.” The tall man with chestnut-hued hair nodded. He pushed the round spectacles farther up on the bridge of his nose. “If that is true, the clinic will be even busier.”
“I expect so.” Indigent soldiers had nowhere to go and if they didn’t have a position or somewhere to make a living, there was often no recourse for them. And if they suffered ongoing injuries or problems of the mind, it was even more difficult. “As of yet, we are maintaining patients.”
The main room of the surgery contained six cots.
There were two rooms off this one where surgeries were performed as well as other more urgent medical procedures which were done by Lord Chesterfield.
Everything else was taken care of by him, Anne, or the two other women who served as nurses or perhaps counselors.
At times, soldiers came into the clinic for cursory examinations or perhaps to have an understanding ear, and when they could, Anne and the others provided them with a hot meal.
“That’s a good thing, yet we should accumulate more blankets and pillows. If the weather takes a turn, we’ll be inundated.” Then he glanced at the door when a man came in who was a bit worse for wear with raggedy clothes and a bit of a limp. “Well, back to work, then.”
Anne nodded. She followed him across the floor. “Welcome. I’m Mrs. Cunningham.”
Lord Chesterfield frowned. “When did you marry?”
Heat slapped at her cheeks, for she hadn’t been at the clinic for a bit.
“A few days ago. My father demanded it, even though I know my own mind.” To the newly arrived soldier, she said, “Why don’t you come over to one of the cots.
” Two of the six were already occupied, but that would change by the day’s end. “What brings you in?”
The man with a gray-streaked brown beard and shaggy hair sat down heavily on the cot Anne showed him to while Lord Chesterfield pulled over a chair to be near the patient when he started his examination.
“My leg is bothering me; the wound just doesn’t heal.
Need to find a place to stay with winter coming on. ”
While the doctor did a cursory check on the man, Anne continued to talk with him.
“No doubt there are odd jobs you can take on during this time of year,” she said with a slight nod. “You seem well enough aside from the wound on your leg.” Which Lord Chesterfield was having a look at.
The man nodded. “I am anxious to integrate back into society once my leg heals and I can find a position, which will lead to gaining a room at a lodging house.”
“With that determination, I don’t doubt you’ll succeed.”
For long moments, he stared at her. “I knew a man named Cunningham a few years ago. Met him in France. Ruthless bit of darkness he was. One hell of a spy, though.” He met her gaze as she peered at him in shock.
“From what I could gather about him, he really knew how to find a man and gather information on his target. Knew how to interrogate subjects with frightening ease.”
“Is that so?” she asked in a faint voice as a hint of shakiness came over her. Gripping the side of a nearby table, Anne cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Did he still do such things for the government or someone who privately paid him? No wonder he was always so haunted.
Slowly, the man shook his head. “Last I heard, Cunningham had received commendations and accolades aplenty from Prinny himself as well as parliament. Quite decorated by the time he came back to London.”
“How interesting. I will remember to ask him about that.” Why would he not tell her about any of it?
“Don’t know what happened to him after the war, but I’ll wager he’ll be a shadow man these days.
Hadn’t heard the name until today.” He shrugged and then winced when Lord Chesterfield removed his boot to show the wound on his shin.
“A man doesn’t live the life Cunningham did for so long without having his mind affected.
Has no doubt collected enemies as well.”
“There is that,” she said in a sing-song voice. How could she find out what happened to Broderick without it angering him or causing him to shut her out? “What does the position of spy entail?”
“Don’t rightly know outside of gaining intelligence or killing an enemy.
Men like me, we were the foot soldiers. Cunningham was the type to go over enemy lines and integrate himself within pockets of the French, or whomever were the targets.
I even thought he’d had a girl at one time while he was pretending to be someone else. ”
“Oh?” Another wave of shock went over her even though Broderick had admitted to having another woman in his life a while back. “What happened?” It wasn’t well done of her to pry or gossip, but her husband’s past was fascinating.
“Couldn’t say, but spies are enigmas for a reason. Same way as they’re hated back home too. Can’t be trusted. They’re mostly just the stuff of rumors and smoke.”
When Lord Chesterfield cleared his throat, she nodded.
“Well, thank you. I hope you heal quickly. The doctor will take proper care of you.”
For the remainder of her time at the clinic, she kept herself busy with mundane tasks like record keeping, cleaning, or brewing tea and distributing it to the staff or patients.
Though she was both hopeful yet fearful, she didn’t know how she would broach the subject with her husband.
Beyond that, would he even wish to share? That remained to be seen.
No. 8
Manchester Square
Mayfair, London
The moment Dante returned from the meeting with his solicitor, the butler informed him there was a caller in the drawing room.
“Who?”
Peterson cleared his throat. “The Duke of Blackhawke.”
Well, damn it all to hell. “Why?”
“I’m sure I have no idea, sir, but I brought him tea.”
“Good. It’s growing colder with each hour.
” In fact, sitting in front of the fireplace was his most immediate wish.
“I’ll go up directly and speak with him.
” As he moved away from the other man, he frowned.
“Oh, and Peterson, has my wife returned?” Shortly before he’d left the house earlier, she’d gone ahead of him, bound for the surgery and clinic.
“Not that I am aware of, sir. If she does return while your guest is here, shall I tell her to join you?”
“Yes, please.” Then he made his way up to the drawing room. “Ah, Blackhawke,” he said as he entered the room. “Your visit is quite the surprise.”
The other man turned from his contemplation of the window.
Strands of silver in his blond hair glimmered in the candlelight.
Dante had a glimpse of the scarred and twisted skin on the duke’s left side of his face before he positioned himself so that his whole left side was canted away from his gaze.
“Before we go further, Eggleton sent me.”
“So I assumed.” Dante nodded as he slipped onto a chair near the fireplace. Immediately, the warmth of the flames seeped into his body to chase away the chill. “I’ve been on enough visits to various club members at the behest of Eggleton that I can guess why you’re here.”
Blackhawke tightened his hand on the silver head of his cane that resembled a wolf. “Since your marriage came about so quickly, and because you are a disreputable duke, I want to make certain you aren’t treating your wife with anything less than respect.”
Heat went up the back of Dante’s neck. “That first day wasn’t ideal.”
A huff escaped the duke. “You are only on the third day of your union.”
“I am aware of that.”
The duke nodded. “Did you bed her?”
Annoyance rose in his chest, but he nodded. “Yes. Once that afternoon and once that evening. Both sessions followed an argument where she threw various items at me.”
“You probably deserved it.” A trace of amusement flitted through the duke’s expression. “I’m only asking because Eggleton demands it. At his heart, he is a decent man even if he did found our club. If it was just me, I wouldn’t care, but did you force your wife to do things against her will?”
Shit.
“I might have while in the throes of anger at the situation.” He rested an ankle on a knee while a footman brought in a tea tray. As soon as he left, Dante frowned. “I told her that it was my right as her husband to take what I wanted.”
“Fuck me.”
He nodded. “I have since apologized. It was the wrong thing to do and I promised her that I wouldn’t touch her again without her consent.”
“That’s a start.” The duke joined him in the grouping of furniture then finally sat on a chair that matched Dante’s, but he was careful not to put his left side on full display.
He accepted a cup of tea. “However, conduct unbecoming is below you—or all of us, really. It happens, though, for tensions and emotions run high.” He declined additions to the amber liquid.
“But you should treat your wife better than a whore.”
“I am aware.” Though that is exactly what he’d done.
Memories of how she’d reluctantly taken him into her mouth moved across his mind’s eye along with how he’d claimed her body from behind.
Her first time laying with a man had been humiliating and rough.
“Again, I apologized to her. Even brought her a floral offing yesterday.”
“How did she react to that?”