The Hunt Club Chronicles Bundle (35 page)

“Stuff and nonsense.”
Bracknell
paced the chamber. “You are a bloody good surgeon, by all accounts. I do not want to lose your services, but if my father keeps firing you we could do just that. You would work for me, but reside here with him, until I have need of you. Father cannot boot you any further than my residence.”

A very tempting offer, one Francis wished he might take up, but there was always a problem to be faced when dealing with those socially above you—they never noticed the problems for someone with his low connections. “You are still forgetting the examination I must sit. I know none of the examiners and what they will ask of me.”

Bracknell
dismissed Francis’ valid concern with a wave of his hand. “Pendergast is a good friend. He’ll help me get you licensed in exchange for my patronage.”

Francis watched the wound and, when he was satisfied that the bleeding had slowed sufficiently to cause him little concern, he dusted it with Dragon’s Blood. If
Bracknell
would just go away he’d be done with the duke directly. “Forgive me for being dense this morning after digging into your father’s shoulder, but if I’m employed here how could that possibly benefit you?”

Bracknell
set his hands to his hips. “It has come to my attention that my father behaves far better when you are around to keep him in line. I spoke to my Uncle Lynton at Christmas and he believes that to be true too. Last night is the perfect example of what happens when you’re absent from any society event. Yet I’m fully aware my father can order any servant away and get himself shot at the next morning. However, Dr. Francis Redding will be a gentleman and free to ignore His Grace should he chose to. I’m hoping you will disobey him quite often and follow him about mercilessly.”

Francis closed his mouth in shock. This didn’t appear to be a sudden decision on
Bracknell
’s part. He looked to have been considering the matter for months and consulting the duke’s family into the bargain. Utter foolishness. “I won’t be invited to the same events, my lord. What you suggest is not the answer you need. Perhaps you should find His Grace a wife. Your mother kept him well satisfied.”

He returned his attention to the wound, ready to insert the first stitch and to bandage the duke’s chest shortly after that. Very carefully, Francis pierced the duke’s skin and drew the wound together with two knotted threads. Thankfully,
Bracknell
remained silent while he worked and he was pleased with the neat result. He dusted the wound again and laid a fresh square of linen lightly over the injury.

“He doesn’t need a wife when he has you,”
Bracknell
murmured from a new position at Francis’ shoulder. “Don’t worry about the details. I’ll see to it that your name is on the guest lists of all the society matrons before the month is out.”

Francis shook his head. “Forgive me, my lord, but you’re as mad as your father.”

Instead of being offended,
Bracknell
laughed. “That’s what I like about you,
Dr.
Redding. You are not afraid to speak your mind to any one of us Manning’s. No wonder he can’t live without you. Look, he’s awake and listening.”

Chapter Five

“Rupert, stop bothering my servant.” Ambrose winced at the sharp sting that pierced his chest when he spoke. Gods, getting a ball in the shoulder was a trial to recover from.

“Lie still,”
Redding
urged, his hot hands sliding gently over Ambrose to restrain him.

Despite his pain, a little thrill shot through him at the sensation. “I would be still if you two would stop blathering,” he gasped. Carefully, he opened his eyes and met
Redding
’s worried gaze. “Well?”

Redding
didn’t smile. “Now, we wait.”

Damn it all, that meant nothing good if
Redding
didn’t reassure him instantly. His footman would never lie to him though and give him false hope. He gritted his teeth as he shifted his shoulder carefully and saw stars.

When he opened his eyes again, his son moved into his line of vision. “Who was it, Father?”

Ambrose pressed his lips together. He wasn’t about to confess anything to his son about last night or this morning. He had faith his second would hold his tongue, even if Rupert was a particularly insistent boy.

Redding
’s hand slid off his chest and Ambrose missed the warmth instantly. He was cold all over. Any minute his teeth would surely chatter. He clenched his jaw tight to prevent that from happening in front of his son.

“Could this wait until later, Lord Bracknell?”
Redding
asked. “I’m hardly done tending His Grace’s injury. I’d rather he rested for a while yet.”

While Rupert didn’t look pleased about it, he nodded. “I’ll remain here in the house. Send word to the library if he becomes difficult.”

“Thank you, my lord.”
Redding
nodded. “But I believe I can manage him.”

The door closed with a soft click. “That’s the quickest you’ve ever gotten rid of him, Red. I owe you another guinea.”

Redding
turned abruptly from the bed. “Oh, shut up.”

Ambrose followed
Redding
’s movements, a little shocked by his outburst. His footman strode to a washbasin and scrubbed ruthlessly at his hands. Then he set them to the table top and his knuckles turned white as they clutched the wood. Ambrose gulped nervously.
Redding
was upset. Yet he straightened again in the next moment, turned and marched back across the room to where Ambrose laid waiting.

Redding
’s expression had blanked of all emotion. “This needs dressing properly.”

Ambrose hated when
Redding
got like this—cold and unfeeling—as if he were merely an unfamiliar person bleeding before him.
Professional indifference
,
Redding
had once called it. Yet they were hardly a stranger to each other’s moods and whims. They’d rattled about in each other’s company more than half their lives and Ambrose knew without a doubt that Redding was furious with him. Yet he would barely show it.

Ambrose nodded his head the tiniest amount. “Of course.”

Slowly and very carefully,
Redding
wrapped Ambrose’s torso in linen and he was settled comfortably as he could be in his vast bed. Yet it had taken all of Ambrose’s fortitude not to cry out against the sharp pain as he was jostled about.

He wiped his upper lip with his good arm until
Redding
took over the task with a square of linen.

He met
Redding
’s gaze. “Thank you, Red.”

Redding
’s hand brushed over his hair in a rare, soft gesture of affection. “Damned fool. Whose wife was it this time?”

“Not a wife.” Ambrose gulped, tasting the metallic flavor of blood on his tongue. “Can I wash this foul taste of blood from my mouth?”

Redding
didn’t ask again about Ambrose’s latest indiscretion as he returned and held a small glass of sherry to Ambrose’s lips for him to sip from.

As his head fell back to the pillow, Ambrose gasped. “A misunderstanding, Red. I promise you.” It was suddenly very important that
Redding
know the gossip would be unfounded. He would hear of the matter eventually,
Redding
always did, and Ambrose would not like him to get the wrong impression. Although, society believed he had dueled over a glass of spilled punch, he had fought for his honor against a jealous man. He had not encouraged Lord Silas the way Lord Fletcherly imagined. He didn’t find the fool attractive at all.

What he wanted, more than anything, was to test the waters with
Redding
, despite his own hesitation. He had decided that as he lay dying. Yet aside from the occasional friendly caress returned, Ambrose was uncertain if
Redding
was even attracted to men.

“They always are.” A harsh sigh passed his footman’s lips. “I’ll distract Lord Bracknell from the matter for as long as I can.”

Ambrose slipped his arm around
Redding
’s thigh and squeezed. “I’d appreciate that. I—”

The door burst open again as Mrs. Banks stormed the room, her son trailing behind. Ambrose quickly loosened his grip about his servant’s limb and
Redding
made a good show of checking his pulse to hide what he’d been doing. One did not fondle another man before a lady.

“Good Lord, it is true? Is he dead?”

A painful laugh bubbled from his lips. “Not yet, Mrs. Banks. However, I have an excellent surgeon to tend me. Come back tomorrow for tea and see if I’ve expired.”

Redding
crossed the room and herded Mrs. Banks from the chamber, speaking low and confidently about his eventual recovery. Ambrose wasn’t sure he believed those words, but appreciated the comfort the man offered the excitable Mrs. Banks.
Redding
closed the door behind her with a quiet word, and then locked it for good measure.

“Alone at last,” Ambrose whispered to
Redding
as he crossed to the windows and drew the drapes closed against the bright day. “Not even my valet about. What did you do to Smith?”

Redding
picked up a heavy, comfortable armchair as if it were weightless and set it close beside the bed. “Nothing. There was blood involved and he disappeared immediately. With luck the little fool won’t return.”

A grin tugged Ambrose’s lips, but with the drapes drawn and the room darker he was suddenly very weary. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

“The man spends more time admiring you and your possessions than performing his duties.”

Was Francis just the tiniest bit jealous? Hope and excitement sent his pulse climbing. Ambrose held out his good hand. “I never noticed.”

After a time,
Redding
’s wide palm slid over his and squeezed. “Enough. You should rest, Your Grace.”

Rest seemed a very good idea. He closed his eyes. “I much prefer it when you slip and call me by my given name. Reminds me of when we were boys running wild by the river on the estate when my father wasn’t looking. It’s been a long time since we’ve been fishing, Red.”

“A very long time ago now, but you never enjoyed fishing, if you remember. You slept on the riverbank or watched me at it.”
Redding
’s grip changed as he tugged the armchair closer to the bed, but he didn’t let go of Ambrose’s hand. “Be still, Ambrose, and do your best to heal quickly. It won’t be long before the whole
ton
comes trouping through those doors to get a look at you. You’d better rest while you can.”

Gads, they surely would try it, wouldn’t they? Not even a near death experience would give him privacy to heal with only
Redding
to see his suffering. He shifted closer to
Redding
and sighed at how short a time the peace would last.