The question was, could the doctor part of him live alongside the earl part of him?
He didn’t know, but he did know that he needed advice, and not from his sister.
With a shuddering sigh, he rubbed a hand over his face. “I’d best go down and face the lions.”
“And hope they’re not hungry, because they will eat you alive.” She crossed the room and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll clean up here and dress Isobel into something comfortable and dry. After that, I’ll find Fanny and talk to her.” Compassion lined her face. “You have much to think about.”
“Yes, and for the moment, I’m flummoxed at how to proceed.”
“You’ll do it with integrity and courage. Just like you’ve done everything else in your life.” She offered a small smile. “Go face the men. I’ll be down as soon as I’m done here.”
“But the Stormes are—”
“Loud and big and scary at times, just like their namesakes. However,” her eyes twinkled, “they’re the most supportive people you’ll ever find once they’re on your side.”
“Yes, but how long does that take?”
All the way down the stairs and along the corridor, Royce’s insides knotted themselves and then knotted again. Worry held him captive; honor demanded he completely change his life to accommodate this shift. Yet at the back of his mind, he wondered what Isobel would do. This was yet another change she would need to square with.
Would she even want him in her life after this?
He gained the drawing room with a sense of doom hanging over his head, yet there was a sliver of excitement that kept breaking through that he couldn’t quite keep buried. Trey sat in a chair a bit removed, reading a book. The three Storme men were all in a heated discussion upon a subject Royce didn’t care about, so he cleared his throat. “I have some answers and some news.”
Both William and Hadleigh stood while Finn adjusted his Bath chair so he could look at Royce. Varying expressions of concern crossed their faces, and seeing them all together like that, the Storme line was evident in them.
“Will Isobel come out right?” William wanted to know. “I already have one sister whose mind is decidedly not normal. Will I have another?”
Trey rose to his feet. He tossed the book aside. “I’m not convinced the elder Miss Storme’s brain is damaged. It might be that she simply thinks differently than others. Until we find out how it works and how to communicate more effectively with her, she’ll always be thought of as odd.”
How much did he admire his brother? And why the hell did he think he could walk away from the clinic and all the strides he and Trey had made in the medical field since they’d opened it? Royce’s chest tightened further. He cleared his throat. “Caroline’s treatment can wait. Right now, I need to speak about Isobel.”
All eyes turned toward him, and he resisted the urge to tug on his suddenly too restrictive cravat. “Isobel remains unconscious. However, I don’t believe it’s a permanent state. She briefly came back while Jane and I were conducting the exam, but fainted again. There is some swelling on her head at the point of impact. She’ll undoubtedly have a concussion, which means she’ll suffer a headache when she does waken and will need to be watched for signs of lethargy, blurry vision, speech impediment, at the least.” He pressed his lips together. This next bit would land him in the middle of the storm. “Aside from a few lacerations and contusions consistent with being thrown from a horse, she’s suffered no broken bones.”
Relief flitted over William’s face. “That’s good to hear.”
“Indeed.” The Earl of Hadleigh narrowed his eyes. “There’s more though.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, there is.” Royce cleared his throat and wished he were anywhere but in that drawing room facing these men. When he glanced at Trey, his brother raised an eyebrow in challenge and gave a tiny shrug as if to say, best have it over with. With nothing for it, Royce shoved a hand through his hair. “During the course of the full examination, I have found evidence that Isobel might be increasing. That state would certainly explain the other symptoms she’s been exhibiting. However, more time is needed to be absolutely certain. Tests that fishwives have touted simply aren’t accurate and they are rather unpleasant.”
The silence after that statement was absolute and deafening.
“You’re certain?” The earl crossed his arms at his chest. “There is no other explanation for her recent bout of stomach distress?”
“I am. It’s only a guess at this point by putting together other information we’ve accumulated, but there’s the possibility she’s nearly six weeks along.” Heat crept up the back of his neck, and the longer he stood there in front of these larger-than-life men, the more his courage shrank.
“Oh, dear God,” William breathed. His face paled as he glanced helplessly at his cousins. “How the deuce did this happen?”
Finn, always the irreverent one in the group, snickered. “I would imagine in the usual ways, Cousin.”
Then Andrew became the roaring storm he’d been known for a year ago. Mottled red rose up his neck into his face. His chest strained. He clenched his fists. Just when Royce assumed he would explode, he took a few deep breaths and regulated his breathing. Eventually, he calmed, and it was a true testament of how far he’d come under his wife’s care. “Do we know who Isobel has been clandestinely seeing for the past month or so?”
Though William shook his head, both Finn and Trey stared at Royce with expressions of expectation and speculation.
Bloody hell.
This time, Royce did tug at the knot of his cravat. “Uh, I’m the man Isobel has been trysting with. It’s been a tempestuous and torrid affair, which I broke off a week ago.”
The men erupted into exclamations and accusations at once.