She could hardly believe those words had come out of her mouth. And even more than that, she could hardly believe the doctor believed her.
But he did.
"Pardon me, my lady. My apologies." He set down the bowl and dug in his bag, removing a cloth. "I assumed you were naught but a visitor," he explained hurriedly as he pressed it to the cut he'd made in Emily's arm.
"That will teach you to make assumptions," Juliana said tightly, moving to hold the cloth in place. "Hush, Emily," she soothed. "You're going to be fine." At least she hoped Emily would be fine. She had no idea whether the girl might come down with smallpox, but she was certain the doctor's ministrations were of no help. "You may send a bill to Lord Neville," she instructed him, "but I'll thank you to leave now."
She kept herself busy tying the bandage while the doctor quickly gathered his things and left.
"I want Herman," Emily said as soon as he cleared the door. She struggled up to a sitting position and motioned toward a terrarium in the corner. "G-get me Herman. P-please."
Juliana walked over to the glass box, sighing as she reached in to lift the reptile. She'd never actually touched him before, and it really wasn't the thing for ladies to handle snakes. But Herman felt drier and warmer than she'd expected, and she smiled to see the little girl relax as he settled around her neck.
"Th-thank you," Emily breathed. Her sobs had diminished to shuddering sniffles. "I c-cannot believe that doctor be-believed you were my mother."
"I cannot believe it, either," Juliana said dryly. Honestly, she'd have had to have given birth at fourteen for Emily to be her daughter. Apparently the doctor thought she looked either very old or very fast, neither of which made her very happy.
But she was extremely happy he'd left.
"I don't want to get smallpox, Lady Juliana."
"Of course you don't. But I don't believe what that doctor was doing would prevent it."
She had a sinking feeling there was nothing that could prevent it other than luck, but there was someone who would know for sure. Someone who knew more about smallpox than anyone else in London.
"I'm going to send for Lord Stafford," she said. They'd agreed not to see each other until after tomorrow, but really, she had no choice. Emily's health was at stake—maybe even Emily's life. "Wait here while I write a note and give it to one of your father's footmen." She started out the door. "No, make that one of my brother's footmen," she amended. The Neville staff was so old, it would be tomorrow before one of them managed to shuffle to the Institute and back. And besides, she needed to send a note next door in any case, because they'd be wondering what was keeping her so long.
A few minutes later, she returned and peeled all the blankets off Emily. She banked the fire and drew back the curtains and opened the window. Gritting her teeth, she took the little bowl of blood and dumped it into the bushes outside, then rinsed it with water from Emily's washstand and dumped that out, too. When all that was finished, her heart calmed a little and her stomach felt much better. She dragged a chair to Emily's bedside, found a book, and read aloud for more than an hour until James arrived.
When the butler showed him to the room, he paused in the doorway and looked at her. Just looked at her, like he was drinking her in.
"Juliana," he said softly. He looked tired and disheveled, his hair tousled and his neckcloth askew. He'd probably donned that and his tailcoat in his carriage on the way from the Institute.
Her chest ached at the sight of him. "I know we said we wouldn't—"
She cut off, noticing his gaze had shifted to Emily. And Herman. A moment ago his heart had been in his eyes, but now those eyes were glazed, and he looked very much like she'd felt when she'd seen Emily's blood. Like his pulse was thready and his stomach was clenched.
Which was very probably true.
"Emily," she said carefully, rising from her chair, "you need to give Herman back to me now. I'm going to put him in his box until Lord Stafford is finished."
"No!" Emily clutched the olive green snake. "I want to keep him."
"Emily—"
"The other doctor took him, and then he hurt me. I want to keep Herman!"
"Emily—"
"It's all right," James said, looking pale as paper. "She can keep him." He drew a deep breath and looked back to Juliana. "Your note said she was ailing?" His gaze flicked to Emily's bandage and back again. "Did she hurt her arm?"
"Not exactly. The other doctor bled her. She's been exposed to smallpox, and—"
"Where? When?" He walked closer to the bed, seemingly unafraid of the snake. Except his hand was gripping the handle of his leather bag so tightly his knuckles had turned white. "Tell me what you know."
"She's been playing all week with three girls who came down with smallpox today."
"How do you know it's smallpox? Do they have spots, or only a fever?"
"Spots," Emily said. "But Susan told me she was hot the day before."
"Damn," he said under his breath. On the other side of the bed from where Juliana stood, he set his bag down on Emily's night table. "Do you feel hot?"
"No. Not now. I did before, but Lady Juliana took all the blankets off of me."
"The other doctor had her under seven of the things," Juliana explained disgustedly.
"Idiot." James leaned closer to Emily and reached toward her, flinching before he placed a hand on her forehead. "No fever," he reported, quickly pulling back from the girl and her snake. "That's a good sign. Smallpox usually isn't contagious for the first week or two after exposure, but one can never be certain."
"If it's a
