Page 24 of Courting Trouble
Nurse Higgins—the marvelous creature—had finished Ludlow’s stitches in record time and left Mr. Ludlow to bandage his own wound so she could scrub her hands and retrieve the sterilized surgical instruments from the carbolic acid.
Suddenly Titus didn’t want to turn to look. Not because he was bothered by blood…
But because he’d finally processed the information Blackwell had just imparted.
Prudence Morley—originally Prudence Goode—only had one brother-in-law. William Mosby, the Viscount Woodhaven, who’d just shot his own wife before falling victim to Morley’s rifle.
His own wife.
The room tilted as Titus turned to find his worst nightmare on his operating table.
Nora.
From the Vein
Titus’s hands had never been so unsteady during a procedure.
Never had he barked orders so terribly at Higgins as he sheared Nora’s blood-soaked gown from her alarmingly pale, unconscious body. Nor had he growled commands so fiercely at a man as dangerous as Blackwell, to wash his hands and prepare to help.
Neverhad he prayed to every saint his father had believed in with such dire fervency as when he searched for an exit wound. Nor given such thanks when he found one.
The bullet had gone through her, but the sheer amount of blood pouring from her shoulder meant the situation was increasingly dire.
“Her pulse and breaths are thready,” Higgins informed him, timing them with her watch. “I shouldn’t like to use the anesthesia.”
“Nor I, but this amount of blood tells me an axillary vein may have been nicked, and if I get in there to repair it and she moves in the slightest…”
He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even consider the prospect that the only woman he ever loved and hated would bleed to death on his own table.
By his own hand.
For the first time in his career, Titus’s choices were truly untenable. Like most doctors, he’d learned to accept early on that his profession was merely a way to delay death, not to defeat it.
But, regardless of what Alcott had taught him at such an early age,shecould never be just a dying body.
Because death wasn’t an option.
“I’ll meticulously count every breath, Doctor,” Higgins said in a gentle manner he’d never heard her use before, as she placed the anesthesia mask over Nora’s mouth and nose. “She’ll get through this.”
Nora. Nora.Her name became the rhythm of his heartbeat as he delved into the intricate sinew of her shoulder. He had to irrigate away alarming amounts of blood to find the correct vein, and then to clamp and stitch it.
Fate aligned with his expertise, as every surgeon knew that each body was made up of similar constructions that could also be as vast and varied in their particular assembly as stars in the sky. Miraculous good fortune deemed that the vein was easily found and that the nick was small, or she’d have expired before they could have loaded her in the carriage.
Titus didn’t breathe as he released the clamp, until he saw that he’d repaired the damage.
His relief was such that her name escaped him on a whisper, and he fought to keep the starch in his knees.
Nora.
He wasn’t aware he’d been sweating until Higgins passed a cloth over his forehead and upper lip, firmly planting him into the present.
No, he reminded himself. NotNora. Not to him.
Lady Honoria Mosby, Viscountess Woodhaven.
Now that the vein had been repaired, he still had to work on the other tissue and sinew surrounding the wound.
A tremor coursed through him as he looked down at her torso, bare but for where a strip of cloth placed by Higgins covered her breasts.God, she’d always been a small and fragile creature, but now her bones seemed like that of a sparrow’s. The years hollowed out her cheeks, and dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes. Her features were still magnificent, though, and razor sharp. Her lashes black fans against porcelain skin made ashen from the loss of blood.
