added thoughtfully. He left the window, hearing footsteps on the stairs.
Mrs. Coxmoor entered the room, crossing to where a tray held a number of bottles. "He insisted I had to leave." She poured out three glasses of brandy, offering each gentleman a glass before she took one with her to stand by the fireplace.
"What has the doctor to say?" Nick glanced to Milburn before returning his attention to Mrs. Coxmoor.
"Not much, as yet. He ordered me from the room, but made no pronouncement regarding Nympha. I merely objected to his bleeding her. Seems to me that it did my late husband no good." She cast Nick a belligerent look as though he might argue with her. He didn't.
Milburn left the room as though he could bear to hear no more. Within moments they heard the front door shut.
Nick slouched down in a great winged chair near the fireplace, where a fire flickered at a neat stack of logs. Like everything else in this house, it was perfectly laid, and burned enough to offer pleasant warmth. He leaned his chin on his left hand, which he propped on the chair arm, mulling over what had occurred. Seemed to him Milburn was a sponger. Nick had suspected that on the trip north. It wouldn't be easy to dislodge him from a pleasant spot.
"I like an apple-wood fire." Mrs. Coxmoor stared into the flames a time before turning to Nick. "Milburn has gone outside. Can you tell me what you think of what occurred out there? We have a bit of time on our hands before the doctor will offer his report."
"I have been considering that last shot of his. There is, of course, no explanation as to why he sent the ball that particular direction—other than to beat me. I must say, he hit that ball with remarkable drive and energy. Haven't seen the like of it before—other than in a champion match, that is. I cannot see why he felt it necessary for a little game between friends. Perhaps he just likes to win. There was no way I could have returned that shot."
"And is he a friend of yours?"
"I can't say I know him well. I have seen him about London, of course. We have not moved in the same circle, but still, London isn't all that large—at least the West End where the ton resides."
"Mr. Milburn lives there as well?"
"Don't know his direction precisely. I believe it is the Albany."
Nick rose as they heard steps coming down from the first floor. In moments Dr. Graham appeared in the doorway, looking to Mrs. Coxmoor at once. Nick took a step in his direction, then paused. Mrs. Coxmoor must have precedence. She was a relative; he was merely a man who has known the girl most of her life.
"Well, how is she? Will she mend, do you think?" Mrs. Coxmoor walked to where the doctor stood. She gestured him to enter, then walked at his side to the fireplace. All the while she studied his face.
"The ice was a good idea. She would have had a truly nasty lump had you not applied it so promptly. As to her mending, yes, she will. I suggest she remain quiet for a few days. When she feels more the thing, perhaps a light activity would be acceptable. Keep her quiet."
"Her mind does not seem affected?" Nick asked, his fears pushing to the fore.
Dr. Graham bent to the fire to warm his hands. "No. It is my thinking she had a nasty knock on the head, but no permanent damage has been done. She seemed lucid when I finished with her."
"Thank God," Nick murmured. "I was worried."
"You were right to be concerned. I have seen cases where the senses are totally disordered. I would say that is not the case with the young lady." He gave Nick a curious look, quite as though he wondered what the connection might be.
"I have known Nympha Herbert since she was a little girl. I'd not wish to see anything happen to her."
Dr. Graham nodded. He discussed the patient's treatment with Mrs. Coxmoor while Nick listened.
When the doctor had departed Nick resumed his seat near the fire. "Surprised Milburn hasn't returned to see what the doctor had to say." He finished the brandy Mrs.
Mrs. Coxmoor entered the room, crossing to where a tray held a number of bottles. "He insisted I had to leave." She poured out three glasses of brandy, offering each gentleman a glass before she took one with her to stand by the fireplace.
"What has the doctor to say?" Nick glanced to Milburn before returning his attention to Mrs. Coxmoor.
"Not much, as yet. He ordered me from the room, but made no pronouncement regarding Nympha. I merely objected to his bleeding her. Seems to me that it did my late husband no good." She cast Nick a belligerent look as though he might argue with her. He didn't.
Milburn left the room as though he could bear to hear no more. Within moments they heard the front door shut.
Nick slouched down in a great winged chair near the fireplace, where a fire flickered at a neat stack of logs. Like everything else in this house, it was perfectly laid, and burned enough to offer pleasant warmth. He leaned his chin on his left hand, which he propped on the chair arm, mulling over what had occurred. Seemed to him Milburn was a sponger. Nick had suspected that on the trip north. It wouldn't be easy to dislodge him from a pleasant spot.
"I like an apple-wood fire." Mrs. Coxmoor stared into the flames a time before turning to Nick. "Milburn has gone outside. Can you tell me what you think of what occurred out there? We have a bit of time on our hands before the doctor will offer his report."
"I have been considering that last shot of his. There is, of course, no explanation as to why he sent the ball that particular direction—other than to beat me. I must say, he hit that ball with remarkable drive and energy. Haven't seen the like of it before—other than in a champion match, that is. I cannot see why he felt it necessary for a little game between friends. Perhaps he just likes to win. There was no way I could have returned that shot."
"And is he a friend of yours?"
"I can't say I know him well. I have seen him about London, of course. We have not moved in the same circle, but still, London isn't all that large—at least the West End where the ton resides."
"Mr. Milburn lives there as well?"
"Don't know his direction precisely. I believe it is the Albany."
Nick rose as they heard steps coming down from the first floor. In moments Dr. Graham appeared in the doorway, looking to Mrs. Coxmoor at once. Nick took a step in his direction, then paused. Mrs. Coxmoor must have precedence. She was a relative; he was merely a man who has known the girl most of her life.
"Well, how is she? Will she mend, do you think?" Mrs. Coxmoor walked to where the doctor stood. She gestured him to enter, then walked at his side to the fireplace. All the while she studied his face.
"The ice was a good idea. She would have had a truly nasty lump had you not applied it so promptly. As to her mending, yes, she will. I suggest she remain quiet for a few days. When she feels more the thing, perhaps a light activity would be acceptable. Keep her quiet."
"Her mind does not seem affected?" Nick asked, his fears pushing to the fore.
Dr. Graham bent to the fire to warm his hands. "No. It is my thinking she had a nasty knock on the head, but no permanent damage has been done. She seemed lucid when I finished with her."
"Thank God," Nick murmured. "I was worried."
"You were right to be concerned. I have seen cases where the senses are totally disordered. I would say that is not the case with the young lady." He gave Nick a curious look, quite as though he wondered what the connection might be.
"I have known Nympha Herbert since she was a little girl. I'd not wish to see anything happen to her."
Dr. Graham nodded. He discussed the patient's treatment with Mrs. Coxmoor while Nick listened.
When the doctor had departed Nick resumed his seat near the fire. "Surprised Milburn hasn't returned to see what the doctor had to say." He finished the brandy Mrs.
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