pain on his so-called usurper. But that was all in the hazy past, and if he could just get a bit more comfortable…
“You’re coming around, cousin.”
He turned his head to see Etienne de Giverney looking at him in pinched disapproval. He’d be a handsome young man if only he didn’t have the unfortunate tendency to sneer, and Francis considered informing him of that when he realized it was the effect of the laudanum.
“Saved my life, did you, Etienne?” he murmured. “That must have gone against the grain.”
“Hardly. The bullet was in your arm, not your heart. Whoever shot you did a very poor job of it.”
“Which must sadden you tremendously.”
“I do think assassins should know what they’re doing,” Etienne said in his clipped voice.
Francis was emerging from the drugged daze, reluctantly. He struggled to sit up without any aid from his unwilling doctor. “You think that was what it was? An assassination attempt?”
“Since you were in town I doubt it was a hunting accident,” Etienne said coolly. “And I imagine there are a great many people who would like to see you dead.”
Francis straightened his back. His arm was wrapped in layers of gauze, and despite the drugs the pain was more than annoying. He was going home to soak himself in brandy until it stopped. “Perhaps. But none of them are crack shots.”
“Whoever it was missed his target,” Etienne pointed out.
“He came close enough, considering the circumstances. A busy city street, the protection of a carriage. I imagine we should look for a talented marksman. Perhaps someone newly discharged from the army.”
“Well, should you ever discover him you can give him your compliments on his marksmanship.”
Rohan controlled his irritation. “Where’s my shirt? And where’s Reading?”
“He’s been doing your bidding. You had quite the list of commands before you finally succumbed to the laudanum. A servant should arrive with fresh clothes momentarily—I had to shred your coat and shirt. They were soaked with blood—there would have been no salvaging them anyway.”
“Tant pis. I can always buy more,” he said deliberately, just to see Etienne’s brow darken.
“And just who is it you’re trying to corrupt at the moment?”
Francis smiled pleasantly. “Anyone who comes near me, Etienne. Did you have someone in mind?”
Etienne made an annoyed click of his tongue. “You had Reading dispatching firewood and food to someplace in Rue du Pélican. Don’t you realize you could have anyone from that area raise her skirts for a few sous?”
“I agree, it’s not a very savory area, but you’ll find there are a couple of very virtuous young ladies in residence. With their ill maman. I’d like you to call on them, see if there’s anything you can do for the poor woman,” he said, trying his best to look saintly.
“Charity is unlike you.”
He laughed. “Oh, acquit me of any such motives. I have nothing but the most impure thoughts when it comes to one of the young women. I’d like you to see to the mother’s swift and painless passing and marry the older girl. She’ll provide you an excellent wife—commonsensical and plainspoken. She’ll organize your life and your practice and give you a dozen hopeful children.”
There was a moment’s silence. “You still have the capacity to surprise me,” Etienne said finally. “I’m not going to kill some old woman for you. Nor am I about to marry some woman so you can debauch her younger sister.”
“In fact, the mother’s not that old. But she’s dying of the Spanish disease and her mind’s gone.” Rohan poked at his arm, then winced. “She’ll be dead in a matter of months anyway. And it’s your future wife I wish to debauch.”
Etienne stared at him. “There are times, Francis, when I wonder if you’re quite mad.”
“In my own way. I take it you don’t fancy the idea of aiding me?”
“No.”
“I would be most grateful if you’d consider it,” he said. “You know I tend to express my gratitude in tangible ways.” He could see the light of greed in his cousin’s flat black eyes. “And the mother could do with a doctor’s care. I could send someone else, of course, but I thought I should offer such an opportunity to my dear cousin and heir.”
Etienne drew himself upright. “I’ll go see the poor woman. Because I swore an oath to attend the sick. And you’re not going to see me inherit the title—you’ll marry on your deathbed and beget an heir just to spite me,” he said in a voice that wasn’t far from