sudden surge of alarm she felt—after all, with Alec and Paddy and Pearl all in the dressing room, who was left to knock at the door?—she was glad to have them interrupted.
The knock sounded again, more loudly this time. Isabella stared at the door. What should she do? She couldn’t answer it—it might be someone who would do harm to Alec.
Quickly she got out of bed, padded to the dressing room door, and tapped on it. The door opened, and Paddy looked out at Isabella inquiringly.
“Someone’s at the door,” she mouthed, pointing.
Paddy looked over his shoulder, and frowned. “Pearl, if you’d let Alec be, he might recover faster. Anyway, there’s someone at the door.”
There was a rustle of cloth, and then Pearl was beside Paddy, going on tiptoe as she reached up to tweak his cheek. “You’re getting to be a regular spoil-sport, aren’t you, lackwit?”
Paddy apparently took no offense at the mocking nickname, because his frown faded as he looked down into her face. Isabella was struck by something that flashed briefly in his eyes. Was it possible that Paddy was attracted to Pearl, and deferred his interest to Alec’s prior claim?
This intriguing notion was interrupted by a banging on the door that defied anyone not to answer it. Isabella, suddenly recalled to a sense of her dishabille, scurried for the bed and clambered in.
Paddy swung to face the door, his hand reaching for his pocket where Isabella assumed he kept his pistol. Pearl shook her head at him.
“ ’Tis Mr. Heath, the sawbones,” she said, and Paddy relaxed as she went to open the door.
Mr. Heath was not quite as tall as Pearl, and he was so rotund that he gave the appearance of being nearly as wide as he was tall. Despite the chill of the day, he was red and perspiring, the floridness of his complexion extending clear past his face to his balding pate. Scant strands of ginger hair were combed back into a skimpy tail. His coat and waistcoat were unfastened, his shirt was crumpled and looked as though might pop its buttons at any moment, and his breeches were stretched to the limit. All in all he was not a figure to inspire confidence in any who might be his patients, but Pearl greeted him blithely and hustled him inside, carefully locking the door behind him.
“And how is the Tiger?” Mr. Heath asked, referring to Alec in what Isabella could only think of as a reverential tone. He had spared not a glance for Isabella, who assumed that she was his patient as much as Alec, and felt a small degree of affront, as she was not used to being ignored. But clearly, to Mr. Heath, it was the Tiger who mattered.
“He says he is much recovered, and won’t stay abed,” Pearl reported, leading the way to the dressing room.
Mr. Heath frowned. “So I feared.”
With that he was ushered into the dressing room. Paddy and Pearl disappeared with him, and the door was closed on Isabella’s interested eyes.
Mr. Heath remained in the dressing room for some three quarters of an hour. The only clue Isabella had to what was transpiring within was Alec’s shout of “I absolutely refuse to be blooded by this money-grubbing leech!” halfway through the proceedings. When Mr. Heath emerged at last, accompanied by Pearl, he looked flustered, and his florid face was even redder than before.
His subsequent examination of Isabella was cursory, and after he replaced the bandage covering her wound with a smaller one, he pronounced her well on the road to recovery.
“ ’Tis fortunate that the bullet only grazed you, young woman. You’ve nothing more than three inches or so of skin gouged out of your back. Had fever not set in, I daresay you would have been on your feet again within a day or two. But then, fever often accompanies these cases. I’m glad to see that my powders have brought you to the right-about.”
“I’ve been giving ’em to her just like you said,” Pearl asserted virtuously, although so far as Isabella was aware, Pearl had done no
The knock sounded again, more loudly this time. Isabella stared at the door. What should she do? She couldn’t answer it—it might be someone who would do harm to Alec.
Quickly she got out of bed, padded to the dressing room door, and tapped on it. The door opened, and Paddy looked out at Isabella inquiringly.
“Someone’s at the door,” she mouthed, pointing.
Paddy looked over his shoulder, and frowned. “Pearl, if you’d let Alec be, he might recover faster. Anyway, there’s someone at the door.”
There was a rustle of cloth, and then Pearl was beside Paddy, going on tiptoe as she reached up to tweak his cheek. “You’re getting to be a regular spoil-sport, aren’t you, lackwit?”
Paddy apparently took no offense at the mocking nickname, because his frown faded as he looked down into her face. Isabella was struck by something that flashed briefly in his eyes. Was it possible that Paddy was attracted to Pearl, and deferred his interest to Alec’s prior claim?
This intriguing notion was interrupted by a banging on the door that defied anyone not to answer it. Isabella, suddenly recalled to a sense of her dishabille, scurried for the bed and clambered in.
Paddy swung to face the door, his hand reaching for his pocket where Isabella assumed he kept his pistol. Pearl shook her head at him.
“ ’Tis Mr. Heath, the sawbones,” she said, and Paddy relaxed as she went to open the door.
Mr. Heath was not quite as tall as Pearl, and he was so rotund that he gave the appearance of being nearly as wide as he was tall. Despite the chill of the day, he was red and perspiring, the floridness of his complexion extending clear past his face to his balding pate. Scant strands of ginger hair were combed back into a skimpy tail. His coat and waistcoat were unfastened, his shirt was crumpled and looked as though might pop its buttons at any moment, and his breeches were stretched to the limit. All in all he was not a figure to inspire confidence in any who might be his patients, but Pearl greeted him blithely and hustled him inside, carefully locking the door behind him.
“And how is the Tiger?” Mr. Heath asked, referring to Alec in what Isabella could only think of as a reverential tone. He had spared not a glance for Isabella, who assumed that she was his patient as much as Alec, and felt a small degree of affront, as she was not used to being ignored. But clearly, to Mr. Heath, it was the Tiger who mattered.
“He says he is much recovered, and won’t stay abed,” Pearl reported, leading the way to the dressing room.
Mr. Heath frowned. “So I feared.”
With that he was ushered into the dressing room. Paddy and Pearl disappeared with him, and the door was closed on Isabella’s interested eyes.
Mr. Heath remained in the dressing room for some three quarters of an hour. The only clue Isabella had to what was transpiring within was Alec’s shout of “I absolutely refuse to be blooded by this money-grubbing leech!” halfway through the proceedings. When Mr. Heath emerged at last, accompanied by Pearl, he looked flustered, and his florid face was even redder than before.
His subsequent examination of Isabella was cursory, and after he replaced the bandage covering her wound with a smaller one, he pronounced her well on the road to recovery.
“ ’Tis fortunate that the bullet only grazed you, young woman. You’ve nothing more than three inches or so of skin gouged out of your back. Had fever not set in, I daresay you would have been on your feet again within a day or two. But then, fever often accompanies these cases. I’m glad to see that my powders have brought you to the right-about.”
“I’ve been giving ’em to her just like you said,” Pearl asserted virtuously, although so far as Isabella was aware, Pearl had done no
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