The Lady's Disgrace by Callie Hutton Page A

the frock from the chair where Sanders had dropped it, and left the room.
    Mrs. O’Neill had done a good job of placing enough candles and two oil lamps around the room. Abigail lay still on the bed, the surgeon on a chair next to her, examining her arm closely. “Mr. Fox, it appears your wife not only hit her head when she fell, but she also sustained a bullet wound to her right arm.” He looked up at Joseph as he strode into the room, the garment still clutched in his fist.
    “I have just been informed of that fact. How serious?”
    “Only a flesh wound. I found very little in the way of fabric imbedded into the wound. Her maid tells me she wore a silk gown, which is fortunate for her. Silk lessens the depth of the piercing, so there were no nasty pieces of wool to pull from her injury. My main concern is the loss of blood, and the damage to her head.” He returned his attention to his work, then spoke over his shoulder. “How did her ladyship end up with a bullet wound?”
    “That is something I intend to find out. She had planned a walk to the village. I worried about her going alone, but it never occurred to me that something like this would happen. You can be assured she will not venture beyond the front door by herself ever again.”
    Joseph moved closer to the bed, and took the cloth Mrs. O’Neill had been using to wipe Abigail’s brow. “I will tend to her now. Please prepare one of your elixirs for her ladyship. I am concerned about infection and would like to have something to offer her when she awakens.” The doctor turned to the housekeeper. “Madam, if the household also stores honey, please bring some. It will help to cut down on the infection and reduce the size and appearance of any resulting scar by keeping the skin around the wound moist and soft.”
    “Honey?” Joseph asked as Mrs. O’Neill hurried from the room.
    “Yes. I spent some years in the Far East during my youth and learned they used honey for dressing wounds. Although no one is quite sure why it helps, it does appear to be very beneficial.”
    Sometime later, Joseph jerked awake as his head fell forward. Confused for the moment, he eased his sore muscles from the cramped position he’d been in on the chair next to Abigail’s bed. He ran his palm down his face and shook the sleep from his body. He’d been sitting in the chair for hours.
    The faint light of dawn brought Abigail’s features into view, a soft glow from the window casting her skin in a milky white luster. Her dark eyelashes rested on her pale cheeks like chocolate crescents.
    While he studied her, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking as if unsure where she was. “Joseph?”
    He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”
    “Like I was stomped by a horse. What happened to me?”
    Brushing back the errant curls from her forehead, he said, “You had an accident coming back from town. Do you remember anything?”
    She licked her lips and furrowed her brows. “I’m not sure. I think I remember walking home, and then, something happened.” She stopped and shook her head slightly, then winced. “Goodness, my head hurts like the devil.”
    “You must have fallen and hit your head on a protrusion, most likely a rock.”
    “Fell? That explains it. Have I been unconscious?”
    “For about ten hours.”
    She closed her eyes, leaving him to wonder if he’d lost her again.
    “May I have a drink of water?” she asked him through cracked lips.
    “Of course.” He reached behind him and retrieved a glass from the dresser.
    She reached for the glass. “Ouch!” She sucked in a breath, growing pale. Her head dropped back onto the pillow. “If I fell and hit my head, why does my arm hurt so much?”
    He placed the glass on the small table next to her bed and took her hand, not saying anything for a moment. He eyed her as he kissed her knuckles, then ran them over his lips.
    “Joseph?”
    When he didn’t answer, she said, “What