"Maybe." He opened his bag and drew out items she'd seen at the Institute. "Very possibly. Vaccination within three days of exposure will usually completely prevent it. Between four and seven days, vaccination still offers a chance of protection, and at the very least should modify the severity of the disease. Has she already been vaccinated?"
"I don't know," Juliana said. "The butler doesn't know, and Lord Neville isn't here."
"The doctor sent him to the apothecary," Emily said. "To get more purg—purg—"
"Purgative," James supplied.
"Lovely," Juliana muttered. "Do you think it's been less than three days since she was exposed? Since the Lambourne girls became contagious?"
"We don't know," he said. "It would be better if Emily's friends hadn't developed spots. But then I suppose we wouldn't be certain it was smallpox, so…" He shrugged and lifted the quizzing glass that dangled from the chain around his neck. "Open your mouth, sweetheart," he said, bending closer to Emily.
He held his breath as he examined her, his lips clamped tight. Knowing Herman must be scaring him to death, Juliana held her breath with him. Maybe it was a bit silly to be afraid of a harmless snake, but not any sillier than to feel ill at the sight of blood. Her heart cracked at the evidence of his bravery, his determination to put the girl's health before his own fears.
How could she have ever thought his having a profession was a bad thing? Amanda had better appreciate having such a wonderful husband, she thought fiercely.
When he straightened, they both blew out a breath. "What were you looking for?" she asked.
"Small red spots on her tongue and in her mouth. Pocks usually show up there first, although I wouldn't expect to see any this early, before the fever. In any case, she has none."
"That's good, right?"
He nodded and visibly steeled himself before leaning close again to unfasten the buttons that went down the front of Emily's nightgown. Herman was draped on either side of the placket, and his fingers shook a little. Regardless, Juliana had never seen anyone unbutton anything so quickly.
"I want to check the rest of her body. Spots most likely wouldn't appear there yet if she's contracted smallpox, but we can hope her friends actually have some other disease that presents differently—"
He snatched his hands back and froze, staring.
At first Juliana thought he'd gone rigid due to the snake. Then she noticed he wasn't staring at Herman, but at Emily's young, flat chest.
Or, to be more precise, at an odd, fleur-de-lis shaped birthmark on the left side.
He frowned and murmured, "I think I've seen a birthmark like this before."
Emily nodded. "My father has one, too. All the Nevilles have one. In exactly the same place."
"Oh," James said. Still staring at Emily's bared skin, he frowned again. "But I've never seen your father's chest."
"Yes, you did," Juliana reminded him. "At Lady Hammersmithe's ball, remember? Lord Neville was choking, and you saved his life."
"I removed his neckcloth but not his shirt. I only loosened a couple of buttons. I never saw—"
He blinked. And gasped.
"What?" Juliana asked.
His gaze flew to meet hers. "It's another birthmark I remember. Because another night—the night I was caught with Lady Am—" He broke off, glancing toward Emily and back again. "With your unbuttoned friend," he revised.
Then he paused before concluding, very slowly, "I saw that birthmark on her."
Dear heavens, he was right. Juliana suddenly remembered seeing it herself from where she'd been peeking from behind the curtain. A similar birthmark on Amanda's half bare, hastily covered breast.
No, she couldn't have seen it then. She'd been at entirely the wrong angle.
But she had seen that birthmark on Amanda.
Her brain felt fuzzy, but she knew she'd seen it. She closed her eyes and pictured it…in her very own bedroom, the night she'd presented the "new" Amanda to society, when she was dressing for Lady Hammersmithe's ball.
And that meant…
Something hovered in the back of Juliana's mind. Something significant. Across the bed from James, she followed his gaze down to Emily's chest. If all the Nevilles had that birthmark, and Amanda had that birthmark…
Then Amanda was Lord Neville's daughter, not Lord Wolverston's.
And that meant…
"Oh, my heavens," she breathed.
FORTY-EIGHT
JAMES'S EYES met Juliana's in understanding, and it took everything they had not to voice their conclusions aloud in front of the little girl. Her father arrived, purgative in hand—muttering about hiring some servants young enough to run errands—and James asked him if his daughter had ever been vaccinated.
The answer was no, which James found rather annoying. If the educated upper class didn't make vaccination a priority, was there any hope for the common people?
To everyone's relief—except perhaps Emily's, since the last thing she wanted was to be cut again—the purgative was put aside, and James vaccinated her instead. A tiny incision, a little dip into the wound using an ivory lancet tipped with cowpox virus, and a swiftly applied bandage. It all went very quickly, even though James didn't have a sugar stick. In fact, he couldn't remember ever vaccinating anyone faster.
Herman might have had something to do with that, and it seemed the girl preferred chocolate cream, anyway.
There was nothing else to do but wait. The incubation period for smallpox generally ran seven to fourteen days, but occasionally went as long as seventeen. Emily had most likely been exposed two or three days earlier, which meant it would be at least two weeks before they knew for certain whether she was out of the woods.
But there was much reason to hope. And for now Emily was healthy, so even though she should stay at home to assure others' safety, there was no reason for her to remain in bed.
It was almost seven o'clock by the time all was said and done and James and Juliana left the Neville house. As soon as the door closed behind them, she turned to
