“Whose blood is that, then?” she asked as politely as possible as she slid to the side of the bed farthest from the jar.
“It’s pig’s blood,” said Mr. Wrightman. He picked up the jar of leeches as if it were a glass of red wine. “I’l take them away.”
“Why did you tie my arm, then?”
“It’s what any apothecary would do when a lady who didn’t faint pushes away the smel ing salts. But luckily, it wasn’t necessary to do a bleeding.
This time.” He winked at her.
She clenched her fists. The pug was now in the bed with her, nudging her arm with his slimy nose to get her to pet him.
Mr. Wrightman held up the jar to the camera. “Don’t you find it fascinating, Miss Parker, how leeches cure everything from melancholy to deadly fevers?”
“I find it fascinating you diagnosed me with a fainting spel when in fact it may have been something much more serious, considering the gunfire.
And what am I, some sort of guinea pig? How could you even pretend to bleed me with leeches? As if I’m part of some kind of experiment here?”
Mrs. Crescent rubbed her pregnant bel y and whispered to Chloe. “Mr. Wrightman is a doctor at the finest hospital in London, dear. Truly, you were never in any danger.”
The piano downstairs stopped.
Chloe looked over at him leaning against the doorjamb. “Oh,” she said.
He put the leeches into his medicine bag. “The carriage ran into a rock and the wheel broke at the very moment that Lady Grace happened to fire her pistol—in the opposite direction.”
Chloe wanted to believe him.
He bowed. “If you wil excuse me, Miss Parker, you seem to be quite recovered. Al that’s required now is a bit of rest. If you need leeching, or any other medical assistance, I’m happy to oblige. Pleasure meeting you, welcome to Bridesbridge.” His coattails swished behind him.
Something sank inside her when he swooshed out the door. She hadn’t even thanked him. Worse, she implied that he was incompetent. Worse yet, she didn’t even let him know how happy she was to be here, despite the gunfire and leeches. But come on, he feigned bleeding her with leeches.
A woman laughed in the hal way. “Real y, Mr. Wrightman, you flatter me.” Grace sauntered into Chloe’s room without knocking, chin in the air.
“He’s such a good man,” she said. “So observant. So intel igent. So kind of him to even notice, much less compliment, my pianoforte playing while he has a patient in the house.”
Fiona and Mrs. Crescent curtsied while Chloe glared.
“Don’t bother curtsying on my account, Miss Parker,” Grace said. “Are we feeling better?”
Chloe looked at the camera. “Infinitely. Much obliged that her ladyship would inquire.”
“You do look rather piqued. Fiona, do get us some tea and a proper meal. I’m starved. And no doubt Miss Parker and Mrs. Crescent are, too.”
True, Chloe was famished.
Fiona waited until Chloe nodded in approval.
Grace lounged on Chloe’s settee in front of the window. “With al this fuss over you, Miss Parker, it seems the staff entirely forgot our breakfast.”
“The audacity. Perhaps they’l whip up a bul et pudding in your honor for dessert tonight.”
Grace looked confused and her blond sausage curls bounced as she slid the turban off her head.
Chloe smiled. Grace didn’t get the obscure reference to the festive Regency parlor game in the guise of a dessert that included a real bul et and Chloe made a mental note to have it served up here sometime very soon.
Mrs. Crescent anchored herself in a scrol -armed chair beside Chloe’s bed, hand on her bel y, Fifi curled at her feet.
“I’m here to make amends,” said Grace as she looked outside. “I do apologize, even though it was a misunderstanding. It seems a bul et never hit your carriage. Your wheel crashed into a rock.”
Chloe leveraged herself out of bed and stood strong this time, smoothing her gown over her legs.
“Can you manage it, dear?” Mrs. Crescent asked, and Fifi lifted his head.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
She slid on her shoes.
“Miss Parker, you real y should have Fiona put your shoes on for you,” Grace said. “What would we do without servants after al ? Life here would hardly be tolerable. Thank God for that bril iant Mr. Wrightman. Any minute that I’m not with him seems like an eternity.”
“Real y?” Chloe asked. Grace was catwalk stunning; she seemed a little beyond Mr. Wrightman’s league.
“Mr. Wrightman is an amazing man,” Mrs. Crescent said. “Charming. Why, I truly was touched when he confided in me . . .”
