Chapter Eight
June 20, 1818
Royce glanced again at the missive that was delivered not ten minutes past from Inspector Storme.
Come at once. My wife has been ill for a week or more. Apothecary cures aren’t working. I’m afraid there is something bigger at play.
Though he wasn’t worried, there was a trace of concern threading down his spine. Ever since the Storme family had seen Finn thrive under his care, they wouldn’t have any other doctor to attend the connection. That in and of itself was flattering, but it did present a greater issue. If something were to come up that didn’t bring with it a positive prognosis, how would that affect his relationship with the family he was related to by marriage?
By the time he exited his carriage, a gentle spring rain had begun. Shoving the note into a waistcoat pocket, he adjusted his hold on the handles of his worn, black doctor’s bag and glanced at his driver. “I shouldn’t be longer than an hour, Jeffries. If I am, by all means pull into the mews and wait.”
Rarely did he take out the carriage, for his clinic was within walking distance and the vehicle had been a gift from his father besides. He’d wished for no remembrances that he’d eventually become the earl and he certainly didn’t want financial assistance from his father’s estates, but the necessity of having a carriage wasn’t lost on him.
Especially on days when it rained.
“Very good, Doctor Marsden.”
With a nod, Royce hurried up the walkway that led to the townhouse of the Viscountess Doughton, which was also where Inspector Storme and his wife resided. To say nothing of Isobel. His heartbeat tumbled into a rapid tattoo. Would she be in attendance? He had no idea how she spent her days or what her private schedule was, and he hadn’t seen her for three days due to his duties at the clinic. How had she kept herself?
And perhaps more to the point, now that she had time to think, how did she feel about that heated kiss they’d shared at the ball?
As for himself, he was slowly being driven to madness by her, for after that kiss, the desire he had for her had ramped. She constantly invaded his waking thoughts as well as his sleeping dreams. More than once, he’d woken in the night with his member hard and rampant all because he couldn’t evict her from his mind. Isobel Storme was wild and without discretion. She didn’t care that she was often fuel for the gossipmongers, but that made her all the more attractive. With every passing day, his interest in her grew. Oh, he was still appalled by some of the stunts she pulled, but he was hopelessly addicted to her and couldn’t wait to see what she’d do next.
Realizing he stood on the stoop staring at the door for more minutes than was proper, Royce shook his head and firmly shoved all thoughts of Isobel away. He was here at the behest of William and in a doctor capacity. The logical thing to do was act like the physician he was. With no more recourse, he rapped smartly upon the door. Seconds later it swung open.
The butler—Hankins was his name, if Royce remembered correctly—admitted him at once. “Inspector Storme is waiting for you abovestairs. Follow me.” Urgency rode the stately man’s voice.
Royce frowned. If word of the visit had reached the servants, William must assume something was very wrong indeed with his wife. “Thank you.” On his way up the staircase, he caught a glimpse of Isobel as she stood at the doorway of the drawing room. He lifted his free hand in acknowledgment. She waved back. Her lips curved in a grin that promised wicked things but there was no time to tarry. That didn’t stop awareness from tingling along his nerve endings.
Oh yes, that lady would be trouble. Was he the man to stop her or encourage her?
His thoughts scattered when he reached the suite of rooms. William came forward and shook his hand. “Inspector, it’s good to see you again.”
“You as well, Doctor.” William thanked the butler and when that man left, he drew Royce further into the sitting room. “Francesca just doesn’t seem to grow better with the quick remedies we’ve tried. I don’t mind telling you that I’m worried.” Concern creased his brow and lurked at the backs of his eyes.
One of the best parts of being a physician was the ability to perform examinations that would set family members at ease with the results. “I won’t tell you not to worry, for you’ll do so in any event. I know how much you love your wife.” He nodded to Mrs. Storme, who sat composed but pale in a chair by the window. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Storme.” As he came toward her, he glanced at her. From all outward appearances, she merely looked exhausted. “Perhaps you should tell me why you believe there’s something wrong. What symptoms are you experiencing?”
“For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been having extreme fatigue. There have been a few megrims that prevent me from concentrating on writing for the newspaper. There has been some stomach discomfort as well.” She gave William a hesitant smile as he joined her and laid a hand upon her shoulder. “I’m having difficulty keeping many foods down, and sometimes, merely the scent of other foods makes me retch.”
“I see.” Royce glanced between them. “Has anyone else in the household or your connections been ill?”
Both of them shook their heads.
He had a good idea of what ailed the lady, but he’d keep those opinions to himself until a cursory examination had been completed. Because they were both busy with their respective careers as well as caring for the ailing viscountess, it was only natural such a thing would be the farthest assumption from their minds. “Then let us proceed with an examination. Mrs. Storme, if you’ll remove to the bedchamber and ask your maid to help you into more comfortable, loose clothing? William, I shall require a few towels as well as a kettle of boiling water.”
One of the inspector’s dark brown eyebrows rose in surprise. “Whatever for?”
“To sterilize the few instruments I’ll use in the exam.” Gently but firmly, he led William to the door while Mrs. Storme disappeared into the adjoining bedchamber. “I shall need a few moments to wash my hands and prepare.” He dropped his voice in the event Mrs. Storme had exceptional hearing. “You are welcome to attend your wife during the examination, of course, if that will set you both at ease. Or you could call for a midwife instead.”
Shock lined his face. “A midwife. But that would indicate…”
“Indeed.” He couldn’t contain his grin as he nodded. “It’s a presumption yet, and I won’t know until I look at your wife, but some men are given to strong feelings about a man examining a woman in the places necessary.”
For long moments, the inspector remained silent. Finally, he nodded. “No, we’ll have you.” William shook his head. “I have nothing but trust in your abilities. There is a washstand in the bedchamber. I’ll ring for the requested items.”
“Thank you.”
Thirty minutes later, Royce came into the adjoining sitting room. The inspector and his wife sat side by side on a low sofa, anxiety clear in both their expressions. With a grin, he placed his black bag on a rose-inlaid occasional table and then dropped into a chair near the sofa. “Your case is quite easy to solve, Mrs. Storme.”