His soft gray eyes, nearly identical to Will’s, were clouded with concern. “The others are in the attic. And we’ve had to repaint the walls of his bedchamber twice already.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to come to grips with this new information.
“We need to accept that, while Lord Dalmay may continue to recover, he will never be the man he was before his confinement,” Dr. Winslow said gently. “We will all have to adjust our expectations.”
I gripped Gage’s hand tightly in my fist, not wanting to hear any of this. He had to be wrong. I just couldn’t accept it any other way. To say that Will could never return to the way that he was—did Dr. Winslow not understand to what kind of life he was condemning him? A stunted life, one of fear and isolation, of scorn and ridicule.
“Kiera.” Gage leaned toward me to whisper in my ear, but I closed my eyes and turned away, unable to face his sympathy, his pity. Remembering how he had spoken similar words to me the night before about Will never being able to make a full recovery. Those words and the doctor’s each felt like a knife thrust to the chest. For if Will could never completely recover from his ordeals, would I? Could I?
I understood that Will’s situation, his suffering, had been far worse than mine—and the realization of what I had narrowly escaped in not being confined to an asylum as my accusers had wished made me grow cold—but I still couldn’t help wondering if I would be forever grappling with memories I couldn’t forget.
Dr. Winslow said his farewells and then rose to stride across the room toward the door, satchel in hand. Realizing there was one more thing I needed to ask him pulled me from my brooding, and I called after him. He waited for me by the door.
“I wonder if I might ask you one more question.”
His eyes searched mine, as if to be certain I’d recovered from my distress. “Of course.”
I lifted my chin and looked him levelly in the eye, determined he take my query seriously. “What, if anything, can you tell me of Dr. Sloane?”
From the lift of his brows, I could tell he perceived my query was far from idle curiosity. “I’m afraid I know very little of the man. I’ve never had the misfortune of making his acquaintance.” He paused to study me closer before adding, “But I do hope, having seen his handiwork, that you find what it is you’re looking for, my lady.”
A feeling of solidarity passed between us and I continued to meet his gaze to let him know I understood. “Thank you.”
He dipped his head. “You know where to find me should you require my assistance, in any way.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When I returned to my seat, Gage and Michael were already discussing the potential problem with Will’s two manservants.
“I can’t believe it would be Mac,” Michael said with a distressed shake of his head. “The man served with William during the war, and he’s been a loyal retainer of the Dalmay family since before I was born. He accompanied me when I went to retrieve Will from the asylum, and I’ve never seen a man be more gentle, despite Will’s struggling and confusion. Mac was honestly aggrieved by what had been done to my brother. I would swear on my life about that.”
“Then what of Donovan? What do you know of him?” Gage asked. His pale blue eyes sought mine out as I settled back onto the settee next to him.
I offered him a tight smile and gently placed my hand on his where it lay on the cushion between us to reassure him as I turned to hear Michael’s answer. I glanced back in surprise when he turned his hand over to grip mine as I began to lift it away. He squeezed my fingers in silent communication, holding on to them for a moment longer than necessary before he slowly released his grip and allowed me to pull away.
“I hired him because of his references,” Michael was saying. “He worked as a surgeon’s assistant at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh and then the Glasgow Royal Infirmary. The man is quiet, keeps mostly to himself. The other servants seem to have accepted him readily enough. There’ve been no problems that I’ve been made aware of.”
Which didn’t mean there hadn’t been difficulties. Butlers and housekeepers often liked to handle the disciplining of their own staff before any troubles reached the ears of their employers.
“Well, speak to the head of your staff,” Gage told Michael. “Find out for certain.” Gage’s head tilted in thought. “Incidentally, did you actually check with Donovan’s references?”
He blinked in surprise. “Yes. I wrote to the addresses he supplied.”
Gage frowned. “Well, write to them again. And don’t use the directions Donovan gave you. Write to whoever is in charge of hiring their employees. The infirmaries should be able to direct your query to the correct person.”