First Comes Scandal (Rokesbys #4)(39)

“I can do that,” Georgie said.

He looked at her.

“His shirt. I can cut it off. That way you can tend to his face while I’m doing it.”

“Good idea.” Nicholas handed her the scissors.

Georgie grinned and got to work.

“It would go faster with proper shears,” Nicholas said.

“I’ve got it,” she assured him, and indeed she did.

Nicholas turned his attention back to Oakes’s forehead. The main wound definitely needed cleaning. He took out the small flask of whiskey he kept in his medical kit and sloshed some on a handkerchief.

“This will—”

“Sting, I know,” Freddie said grimly.

Nicholas gave him a vaguely approving nod. It was possibly the most sensible thing he’d said all night.

Freddie flinched while Nicholas cleaned the blood from his face, but that was to be expected. Nicholas had never seen someone not flinch when presented with whiskey on an open wound. At his side, Georgiana was still working diligently on the shirt, making tiny cuts with the tiny scissors, moving in a perfectly (and unnecessarily) straight line.

“Almost done,” she said.

Nicholas could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m not sure this needs stitches,” he said to Freddie, peering more closely at the wound, “but you’re probably not going to want to show your face at the club anytime soon,” he said.

“That bad?” Freddie asked.

“It’s more the ink. It doesn’t come off as easily as the blood.”

“He does look diseased,” Thamesly said.

“And you’re sure the cat didn’t bite you, lick you, anything like that?” Nicholas asked.

“Is it dangerous to be licked by a cat?” Georgie inquired.

“Only if it’s in an open wound.”

“Thank goodness,” she said. “I’d be dead in a week.”

Freddie muttered something under his breath. Nicholas could not fully make out the words, but it was enough for him to splash a little extra whiskey into the wound.

“You were saying about the cat?” Nicholas murmured.

Freddie glared up at him. “I am quite sure it did not bite, lick, spit, piss—”

“Done!” Georgie announced, expertly cutting Freddie off as she made her final snip with a flourish. She looked over at Nicholas. “Now what do we do?”

“If you would avert your eyes,” Thamesly said. He motioned wanly toward Freddie’s now bare chest.

“I can’t treat him if I can’t see him,” Georgie said.

“Mr. Rokesby is here to treat him.”

“And I am his assistant.” She gave Nicholas a rather fierce look. “I am your assistant, am I not?”

“Absolutely,” he said. And he meant it. She was doing a brilliant job. “We’ll need something to act as a splint.” Nicholas looked up at the two butlers. Thamesly was holding the lantern, so he directed his request to Wheelock. “Could you find a stick or something about yea-long?”

Wheelock squinted as he took in the measurement Nicholas had indicated with his hands. “Right away, sir.”

Nicholas turned back to his patient but spoke to Georgiana. “We need to set the bone before we splint it.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Move closer to his head,” Nicholas directed. “I need you to hold his upper arm. Firmly. It is vital that you keep him immobile. I’ll pull on the lower part of his arm to create traction. That will separate the ends of the bone so that I can fit them back into the proper alignment.”

She nodded. “I can do it.”

“Could one of them”—Freddie flicked his head toward the butlers—“hold my shoulder?”

“It’s Miss Bridgerton or no one,” Nicholas said sharply. “Your choice.”

Freddie hesitated a moment too long, so Nicholas said, “It’s a two-person job.”

It wasn’t, strictly speaking, but it was certainly easier with two people than one.

“Fine,” Freddie ground out. “Do your worst.”

“I should think you’d want our best,” Georgie quipped. She shot Nicholas an adorable little smile, and he realized—She’s enjoying this.

No, she was really enjoying it.

He smiled back.

“Are you ready?” he asked her.

She nodded.

He looked down at Freddie. “It’s going to hurt.”

“It already does.”

“It’s going to hurt worse. Do you want something to bite down on?”

“Don’t need it,” Freddie scoffed.

Nicholas brought his face closer to that of his patient. “Are you sure?”

“I … think so?” Freddie was starting to look concerned.

Nicholas turned back to Georgie. “Are you ready?”

She nodded eagerly.

“On the count of three. One, two—”

Oakes let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“We didn’t even do anything yet,” Nicholas said in disgust.

“It hurts.”

“Stop being such a baby,” Georgie said.

“If I didn’t know better,” Freddie said, “I’d think you were enjoying this.”