The Viscount Made Me Do It by Diana Quincy

The commission met at Margate Hospital, in the same room where its board of governors convened each month. There were a dozen of them, all men, sitting around the long, rectangular table.

Hanna attended with Evan, sitting in chairs lining the chamber’s walls, surrounding the table where the most important decision of Hanna’s professional life was about to be made. Her nerves quivering, she scanned the faces of the commission members and recognized a few from Griff’s fundraiser. Three of them even met her eyes and dipped their chins in acknowledgment. The rest avoided looking at her.

Griff was there, too, across the room from where she sat, impeccably turned out in his fine clothing. Mansfield and his father, Lord Payton, were in chairs against the wall in the middle of the room.

Dr. Pratt convened the meeting. “Good afternoon. We are here to assess the matter of whether the bonesetter known as Miss Hanna Zaydan presents a clear danger to the good people of London and therefore should be prohibited from practicing her craft in London in the interests of the health and safety of the public. We shall begin with Mr. Mansfield. Please tell us what occurred when you summoned Miss Zaydan to ask for her services.”

Mansfield stood. “My friends and I were at the coffeehouse at Red Lion Square and wanted to determine whether Miss Zaydan is a fraud. I summoned her. She came and purposely put out my wrist. I was in agony for weeks.” He glared at her. “She is a public menace who must be stopped.”

Griff leaned forward in his chair. “Did you tell Miss Zaydan that you were testing her?”

“No,” Mansfield answered.

“Why did she believe she was there?” Griff pressed.

“Pardon me,” Lord Payton interjected. “You have no grounds to ask questions. You are not on the commission.”

“No, but I do sit on this hospital’s board of governors.”

Payton scoffed. “That gives you no standing here.”

“I say it does,” said a commission member, a man of about thirty Hanna had never seen before. Dark-haired and wearing a stylish tailcoat, he possessed the cynical eyes one would expect of a much older man. “Let Griffin speak.”

From the expression on Griff’s face, he didn’t know the man, either. “Erm . . . thank you.”

“I agree,” said another at the table, who Hanna recognized from the fundraiser.

“I agree as well. Let Griffin question the man,” put in another commissioner Hanna remembered speaking with at Haven House. “The point is to get to the bottom of the matter, is it not?”

“Very well,” Dr. Pratt said. “Please continue, Lord Griffin.”

Griff addressed Mansfield. “Why did Miss Zaydan think you’d called her to the coffeehouse?”

“I told her that I’d put out my wrist.”

“Was that the truth?”

“No, obviously not.”

“In other words, you lied.”

“Yes.”

“So, you admit that you are a liar.”

Payton jumped to his feet. “How dare you insult my son?”

Griff did not seem impressed by Payton’s display. “Your son said he lied. That makes him a liar.” He returned his attention to Mansfield. “Did you do anything, make any inappropriate advances toward Miss Zaydan perhaps, that might have made her feel she had to do something to defend herself?”

“Certainly not!” Mansfield had the grace to be affronted by the insinuation he might have accosted Hanna. “She attacked me for no good reason.” That wasn’t true, but neither was Griff’s implication that Mansfield had made inappropriate sexual advances.

“This is outrageous,” Lord Payton said. “Miss Zaydan is the one who needs to answer for her actions, not my son.”

“We should all have to answer for our actions,” said the stranger with the cynical eyes. “No matter what our rank.” He observed Mansfield. “How is your wrist now? Can you move it? Or are you permanently impaired?”

“No, indeed. I am as fit as they come.” Mansfield wriggled his wrist, demonstrating its mobility. “Thank goodness. I feared that charlatan had damaged it beyond all repair. But it is as good as new.”

“Impressive.” The stranger propped his chin on his fist. “By the way, how did your wrist get fixed?”

Mansfield maintained a mulish silence.

“I beg your pardon.” The stranger cocked an ear. “We cannot hear you.”

“Miss Zaydan fixed it,” Mansfield said reluctantly.

“And it is as good as new, I believe you said?”

Evan leaned close to Hanna. “Who is that man?”

“I have no idea,” she whispered, looking over at Griff. Was the man a friend of his? Otherwise, how would he know that Hanna had put Mansfield’s wrist back in? But Griff seemed as confused as Hanna felt.

“So,” the stranger continued, “you summoned Miss Zaydan and told her your wrist was out. When she left you at the coffeehouse, your wrist was still out.”

“No,” Mansfield insisted. “My wrist was not really out before she came to the coffeehouse.”

“I see. You are telling us that you were lying then. But you are not lying now?”

“Yes, exactly!”

“It is a challenge to keep your story straight,” the stranger remarked. “However, what is undisputed is that the bonesetter fixed your wrist, leaving it, in your own words, ‘as good as new.’ No permanent harm was done. And Miss Zaydan helped you even after you drew her to the coffeehouse after what you admit were false pretenses with nefarious intentions and she was forced to protect herself against you.”

“That is not how it happened,” Mansfield retorted, red-faced. “You are twisting everything.”

“Who are you?” Lord Payton demanded to know. “Why are you on this panel?”

The stranger ignored him, addressing his fellow commission members instead. “We need to hear from more of Miss Zaydan’s patients.”

“As you wish,” Dr. Pratt said.

Lord Payton shot to his feet. “Her other patients are irrelevant,” he said angrily. “We’re here to see that this fraudster is held to account for what she did to my son.”

“I believe it is necessary.” The stranger came to his feet. He was tall and had an even more powerful presence when standing. “Before I can decide whether Miss Zaydan should be banned from practicing bonesetting in London, I must hear from more of her patients.” He nodded in Dr. Pratt’s direction. “Please see to it.”

Dr. Pratt dipped his chin respectfully. “I will do so, my lord.”

The stranger departed without ever having once looked in Hanna’s direction. Griff immediately rose and went over to confer with Dr. Pratt. Hanna heard him inquire about the stranger’s identity.

“What was that?” Evan asked, watching the man leave.

“I have no idea.” Hanna was still trying to comprehend what had just occurred. She’d expected to be stripped of her ability to practice bonesetting this afternoon. She’d already started considering her move to Manchester. Instead, a perfect stranger had granted her a reprieve.

Griff left Dr. Pratt and came over, prompting Hanna to turn to Evan. “I shall meet you outside.”

He stiffened. “As you wish.” He stepped away just as Griff reached Hanna.

“That was remarkable.” He beamed. “It appears that you, unlike me, can always depend upon family to come to your aid.”

Family?“Who was that man?”

“That, my dear Hanna, is the Marquess of Brandon.”

“Who?” And then it hit her. Brandon. Leela’s brother. “The cousin I’ve never met.”

“Brandon almost never appears in society. Few would recognize him. He was a late addition to the panel. Norman says the marquess specifically asked to be placed on the commission. Norman had no choice but to grant his request. The man makes sizable donations to the hospital.”

“I cannot believe he would step in on my account.”

“He is brother to the Duchess of Huntington, is he not?”

She nodded, still dazed. “But he and Leela grew up quite apart from us. Their father was a marquess. The Zaydans are humble merchants. I only met Leela quite recently.”

“Well, your mysterious cousin just stepped in to save the day. He’s a powerful ally.”

“All of the people here did seem to defer to him.”

“He’s a marquess. He outranks everyone in this room.”

“I don’t even know him,” she repeated.

“But he’s on your side,” Griff said. “That’s all that matters.”

Hanna was organizing supplies at the commode table the following day when a well-dressed woman appeared at the dispensary with a young boy.

“May I help you?” asked Evan, who was on his way out to run some errands.

“We are here to see the bonesetter,” the woman said.

Hanna closed the drawer. “I am Miss Zaydan.”

“I leave you in excellent hands,” Evan told the woman as he departed.

Interest swirled in the woman’s blue eyes as she scrutinized Hanna. “I am Mrs. Rutland.” She was a toff. Her manner of speaking and well-made gown told Hanna as much. Aside from Griff, Hanna had never treated a member of the aristocracy.

“Hello.” Hanna observed the dark-haired boy with the flushed, tear-stained cheeks at Mrs. Rutland’s side. “And who is this?”

“This is my son, William. He hurt his finger while playing ball.”

“May I have a look?” she asked the boy.

He nodded reluctantly.

“Come on, then,” she said cheerily, attempting to put the child at ease. “Can you get up on the examining table on your own?”

His chin jutted out. “Of course I can. I am ten. Not a baby.”

“William,” his mother warned, “mind your manners.”

“It is all right,” Hanna said.

Once he was seated, Hanna examined the boy’s hand. His middle finger was swollen and crooked. “Ah, yes. I see what the problem is.”

Mrs. Rutland edged closer. “Can you fix it? It’s hurting him terribly. He is such an active boy and so competitive that he can be reckless with his body. He causes his mama a great deal of worry.”

“He’s in pain because the middle knuckle on his finger is put out.”

“What does that mean?” William asked, his voice trembling while he clutched his mother’s fingers with his other hand.

“Your bone has slipped out of its joint, and I must put it back in.”

“Will that hurt?” William stiffened his spine but mostly appeared terrified.

“Not too much. We’re going to ask your mother to help. If you would, Mrs. Rutland, please hold on to William firmly.” Lucy came over as well. She knew what to do. She and Hanna had put many fingers back in before. Lucy held William’s arm firmly for Hanna to work on.

“Have you done this before?” Mrs. Rutland asked, worry in her voice.

“Many times,” she reassured her as she took hold of the boy’s finger. “It’s one of the most common injuries I see, especially among the young.” As she spoke, she wrenched the finger into place.

“Oooh,” the boy whimpered. “Is it going to get worse?”

“No, that’s it.” Hanna stepped back. “I’m all done.”

He blinked. “You are?”

Mrs. Rutland stared at her. “It’s repaired?”

“Yes,” Hanna said as Lucy went to get additional supplies. “Now I will wrap it with the finger next to it, and in a few days William and his finger will be in fine form.”

William gingerly wiggled his middle finger. “I can move it!”

“Yes, but keep it still for now. We don’t want it to fall out of place again.”

Mrs. Rutland watched Hanna wrap the boy’s finger. “This is your dispensary?”

“Yes, mine and Dr. Bridges’s. We work together.” But for how long? Her cousin had bought her more time. But could Brandon save her again? “How did you find me?”

“I read about your circumstances in the newspaper.”

“And you still chose to come and see me?”

“Our family doctor said to apply iodine to William’s finger. But my son was in such pain that I thought it could not hurt if I visited you. I understand you cured Lord Griffin.”

“Do you know Lord Griffin?”

A sad look came over her face. “I did. A very long time ago.”

The bell over the door sounded. Griff came in. Hanna’s skin tingled. She shouldn’t be this happy to see him. But her body had a mind of its own.

“Good afternoon.” He paused when he spotted her patient and his mother. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. I don’t mean to interrupt, I was just—” He halted. The blood drained from his face as he stared at Mrs. Rutland.

The woman returned Griff’s stare, her color high. Hanna was shocked to see tears form in Mrs. Rutland’s eyes. “Tommy,” she breathed.

“What are you doing here?”

Hanna’s stomach knotted. Griff obviously had a history with Mrs. Rutland. How many Selinas did the man have in his past?

William tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Who is that man, Mama?”

“This is Lord Griffin.” Emotion strained Mrs. Rutland’s voice. “He is your uncle.”