The Tavistock Plot by Tracy Grant

Author:Tracy Grant [Grant, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-64197-141-6
Publisher: NYLA

Chapter 21

"You can stop being brave now," Mélanie said, when she and Malcolm were in the privacy of their bedchamber. She'd already picked up her medical box, but when she saw how Malcolm's hands were shaking, she tugged off his coat and went to work on his waistcoat buttons with more dexterity than she'd ever shown in an amorous encounter.

"I'll live." He pulled his shirt over his head. "Kitty could have been killed."

"It was horrible." She grabbed a towel from the washstand and wrapped it round him. "But she wasn't. As long as the wound heals cleanly, she'll be fine."

"This time."

"The same's true for all of us." She handed him a fresh shirt, then began to fumble with the clasps on her pelisse, which was not exactly dry either. "There's no doubt Thornsby was lodging with Mr. Hapgood?"

"Hapgood admitted as much to Roth and me this afternoon, though not that he knew who Thornsby really was."

Mélanie pulled off her pelisse. "What do you think—"

"No sense in speculating until we talk to them." He looked at the torn lace on her sleeve. "You're going to have a bruise on your shoulder."

"Minor damage. I'll mend, and Blanca can mend the gown."

He stretched out a hand to touch her face. "We listen to the evidence and we each make up our own mind and act as we see fit. Same as we've always done."

"And if we make up our minds differently?"

Malcolm pulled on his dressing gown. "It won't be the first time we've been on opposite sides. Only this time, the battle will be out in the open."

Laura had already brought in a jug of hot water by the time Mélanie got to the library. Laura or Julien had given Kitty a glass of whisky, which Kitty was sipping as though determined to prove she could hold her hand steady. Julien sat beside her on the sofa, gaze trained on her, not touching her, but a handsbreadth away. The others hadn't come down yet.

"I'll make coffee," Laura said. "I imagine everyone could use it. Along with whisky."

Kitty gave a faint smile. She had got her coat and waistcoat off. The makeshift bandage was stained red, as was the shirt, but the blood had begun to dry. Mélanie set down her medical supply box and also a clean dressing gown she had brought with her. "Do you mind if we cut the shirt? It will be easier."

"By all means," Kitty said.

The bullet scrape on her shoulder really was little more than a scratch. The knife cut was more serious. The bandage was soaked through with blood, but the wound appeared to have stopped bleeding. It was a long, jagged cut, but it did not appear particularly deep. It would not require stitches. Mélanie doused a towel with vinegar. Julien reached for Kitty's hand. Kitty's fingers closed round his own, white-knuckled, but she sat still while Mélanie cleaned and bandaged the wound.

"The dressing needs to be changed twice a day," Mélanie said, knotting off the ends of the new bandage.

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