and being thrown, I can only assume upon landing you collided with a sturdy object. The scrapes and cuts could be from whatever it was you hit, or from striking the ground.”
Edwin closed his eyes, trying to remember where they were when the race took place. He thought it was Queen Victoria Park, but things got a little muddled after they left the Grossman ball.
Dr. Stevens stood and glared at him. “Reconcile yourself to the fact that you will be here for a few weeks. You will be given plenty of healthy food and when you can move a little bit, a trip to the garden for fresh air.
“There will be no spirits of any kind, and no cigars, if that is also your habit. You will eat three full meals a day, drink plenty of water and sleep whenever your body tells you to.” She leaned over him, her eyes snapping, her cheeks flushed.
The God of Vengeance.
“Aren’t I going to be an expensive guest?” Again, he tried his best smile, but she never flicked an eyelash.
“You are no guest, my lord. You are a patient and believe me when I tell you that the bill I present to you will cover all your needs. Do I make myself clear?”
He was getting mighty annoyed with the doctor. He hurt, he needed a drink and the last thing he wanted to do was remain in this den of purity for a few weeks. “And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I will arrange to have your driver pick you up as requested and will make time in my schedule to attend your funeral the following week.” She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “It’s your choice, my lord.”
With those words she turned on her heel and left the room. He hadn’t been chastised like that since he’d been a lad in short pants.
Chapter 2
Rayne dipped a linen into a pan of cool water and ran it over Sterling’s face. It had been three days since he’d been deposited on her doorstep. His injuries had not been her main concern, however.
He’d been in withdrawal from his alcohol addiction since he arrived. He was unable to sleep, shook so hard when she tried to feed him and offer him water that it invariably spilled all over him and his bedclothes.
“If you would give me just a little bit of brandy, I would feel much better,”
Sterling said as he pushed her hand away.
“Yes. I know that. You would feel much better, but you would need to keep drinking it until you passed out again.” She tried again to make him comfortable by wiping his face and arms.
He smiled at her, which looked more like a grimace. “At least if I’m unconscious I wouldn’t annoy you.”
The man was covered with sweat, his face as pale as new snow. He hadn’t been able to keep down any of the food she forced him to eat, and truth be told she was concerned at this point that she might very well be attending his funeral the next week. There was just so much a body could take, and with the injuries he’d suffered, combined with this problem, healing was precarious.
The evening before she had traveled to the village between Bath and Bristol where her father lived in comfort in a small house, with a full-time woman who acted as a companion, housekeeper and cook to see to his needs.
Rayne had consulted with him for advice and guidance about Sterling, but he assured her she was doing whatever she could to save the man and should do nothing more. Saving souls was not their calling, he admonished. That hadn’t been good enough for her, though. As much as she detested the condition Sterling had allowed himself to get into, she knew there was a reason a man drank so much. At the present time, of course, it was just that his body craved it, but something started him on this trek to self-destruction.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Sterling closed his eyes and turned his head the other direction. “I know you are wondering how you can save me. I cannot be saved. Just let me lie here in peace until my last breath.”
In the time she’d been treating him, she used cajoling, humor, and—God help her—flirting to get him to drink water and take the broth she’d offered several times a day.
She hadn’t gotten a great deal of sleep, herself. She checked on him many times