The Viscount Made Me Do It by Diana Quincy

Griff stretched, feeling supremely rested after seven hours of uninterrupted slumber.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept so deeply and painlessly. Or experienced a blissfully dream-free night, with no snake-headed wild dogs tormenting him.

As he dressed, he thought about Mrs. Zaydan and the necklace. He needed an excuse to see her again. He told himself he was eager to see her to learn more about the necklace and not because he missed her company.

Griff trotted down the stairs and into the dining room to find that Norman wasn’t there.

“Is the doctor not joining me?” he asked Mrs. Peele when the housekeeper appeared with Griff’s coffee.

“No, my lord,” she said as she filled his plate, just as she’d always done. “He was called to the hospital early this morning.”

He watched her pile more food onto the plate than he could ever hope to eat. “You don’t need to fill my plate any longer, Mrs. Peele. I am grown, you know.”

“Still far too thin for my liking.” She set the food before him. Mrs. Peele had worked for Norman ever since Griff first came to live with him. She’d always had a soft spot for the parentless boy. Even after he’d grown into a man.

Griff paused between bites. “How is young Annie doing?”

“As well as can be expected. The girl will likely stay with me forever. Few men will wed a girl with a curved back.”

Suddenly it hit him. It was so obvious. Why had it taken him so long to think of it? “Have you considered taking her to see a bonesetter?”

Mrs. Peele’s eyes rounded. “Certainly not, my lord. Dr. Pratt says bonesetters are swindlers.”

“Maybe some are.” He moved his arm around. “But I was treated by a bonesetter, and the pain in my arm is gone.”

“Heavens!” She stared as he stretched his arm wide and bent it at the elbow. “You can move it? Does Dr. Pratt know about this?”

“Not yet. He’s been working such long hours at the hospital that I’ve barely seen him. But as soon as I do, I intend to demonstrate the full extent of my recovery. Then he will understand that some bonesetters are very capable.”

Mrs. Peele appeared unconvinced. “Do you think this woman can help my Annie? Really and truly?”

“She might be able to. She helped me, and I saw her assist another man whose wrist was dislocated.” He neglected to disclose that the bonesetter was why Mansfield’s wrist was out in the first place. “None of the other doctors have been able to help your girl. Perhaps Mrs. Zaydan can.”

Cautious hope flashed in her face. “But Dr. Pratt won’t approve.”

“You needn’t tell him until after you’ve seen whether Mrs. Zaydan can assist Annie.” He felt no guilt using the girl as a means to see the bonesetter again. He truly believed the healer could help.

“Maybe Annie and I will call on this bonesetter of yours.” Mrs. Peele’s voice wavered. “If you think my Annie’s back can be fixed. Will you give me the bonesetter’s direction?”

“I shall do better than that. I’ll escort you there myself.”

“Can you help my daughter?” Mrs. Peele asked.

Hanna nodded. “I believe so.” The girl had a dislocation of the spine that made her back curve to the right. “It will require some adjustment of the spine and manipulation of the soft tissues, but I do think I’ll be able to help Annie.”

The girl sat on the examining table, listening intently. Hanna and Mrs. Peele stood on either side of her. “It hurts sometimes,” the girl said. “A great deal.”

“Don’t worry, Annie,” Hanna said gently. “I’m going to help you. My treatment will ease the pain. And then I shall give you some exercises to perform daily to help keep the hurt away.”

“Thank you, miss!” Hope brightened the girl’s narrow face. “’Twould be a dream come true if my back weren’t paining me all the time.”

“It is just . . .” Mrs. Peele paused.

“Yes?” Hanna prodded.

“Is it very expensive? I have heard bonesetters ask for a great deal of money for their potions.”

“I assure you that there are no potions. Furthermore, I can adjust the rate for my services as needed.” Hanna understood that a housekeeper would naturally be concerned about costs. “The important thing is to make certain that Annie feels better.”

There was a knock on the door. Lucy appeared. “Pardon the interruption, miss.”

“What is it?”

“Mr. Thomas is here,” Lucy informed her.

“He is?” Hanna straightened, all of her nerve endings suddenly on alert. But then she remembered herself. “Obviously, I cannot see him. I am in the middle of a session.”

Hanna hated the way her entire body perked up when she heard Mr. Thomas’s name. Or the way the mere mention of him transformed an otherwise lackluster day into one that suddenly seemed bursting with possibility. Her reaction was ridiculous. She needed to stay away from the man.

“Mr. Thomas says he is here for an appointment,” Lucy said.

“He doesn’t have an appointment.”

“But Mrs. Peele and Annie do,” Mr. Thomas said as he walked in behind Lucy. “And I am accompanying them. They are here on my recommendation.”

Hanna was impossibly pleased to see him. Even though she shouldn’t be. If he learned the necklace was stolen, he might accuse her of being a fence. Or, worse, assume that Baba had dealt in stolen goods. The Dr. Pratts of the world were just waiting for her to slip and make a mistake. The doctor would take great pleasure in smearing Baba’s reputation.

“Is that true?” she asked Mrs. Peele. “Are you here on his recommendation?”

The housekeeper nodded. “Yes, miss. Lord . . .”

Mr. Thomas interrupted. “My friends call me Griff. Can I convince you to do the same, Mrs. Zaydan?”

It was an intimacy that she should not allow, but she did. “As you wish.”

“Excellent. I’ve known young Annie practically since birth. I knew you could help her.”

Hanna could hardly fathom that he’d actually sent a patient to her. He believed in her. “I would never have imagined the skeptical man I encountered at our first meeting would send patients to me.”

“What can I say?” His eyes twinkled. “You won me over with those talented hands of yours.”

Her cheeks felt hot. Was Griff flirting with her? “And how do you know Mrs. Peele?”

“Mrs. Peele is our housekeeper.”

Our housekeeper. That meant he lived with someone. His parents perhaps, since he’d informed her that he wasn’t wed.

She soaked in the sight of him. It had only been a fortnight since their last meeting, but the man was even more handsome than she remembered. His dark hair was short and neat. His complexion clear and bright. The dark smudges under his eyes were gone, and the lines bracketing his mouth much fainter.

“You look well,” she said.

“It is all thanks to you. For the first time in two years, I am actually sleeping through the night. I’ve never felt better.”

His renewed vigor was apparent. Vitality poured out of him. He seemed . . . transformed. This renewed Mr. Thomas . . . Griff . . . was even more appealing.

“His eating has improved as well,” the housekeeper put in.

“Mrs. Peele has been trying to fatten me up ever since I was a boy,” Griff said warmly.

“Mrs. Zaydan says she can help my Annie,” Mrs. Peele informed him.

The girl piped up. “She says I won’t always be hurting after she cures me.”

“I’m very glad for that, Annie.” His eyes caught Hanna’s. “The opportunity to live life free of physical pain is one of the greatest gifts a person can receive.”

“I’d like to make payment now.” Mrs. Peele withdrew a knitted coin purse from her pocket and loosened the drawstring. “I must return to the house. I’ve much work to do.”

Griff put a hand over Mrs. Peele’s coin purse, stopping her. “None of that now. You and Annie run along. I shall settle up with Mrs. Zaydan.”

The housekeeper paused. “I couldn’t possibly allow—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I insist.” Mirth danced in his eyes. “Besides, I happen to know that Mrs. Zaydan drives a very hard bargain.”

The housekeeper finally acquiesced. “That is very generous of you, sir.” She looked to Hanna. “He’s always been most thoughtful. Even as a boy. Come along, Annie.” The girl scooted off the examining table to follow her mother.

Hanna escorted them to the office door. “I shall see you both first thing on Monday to begin Annie’s treatment.”

Lucy quit the room to see them out, while Hanna faced Griff. “I drive a hard bargain?”

“Yes, indeed.” He examined the Bidloo sketch on the wall behind her desk. “You won’t accept what you’re worth.”

“You mean what my services are worth.”

“They are one and the same to a man who’s been given another chance at life.” He turned away from the drawing. “One I do not intend to waste this time.” The words were wistful.

“You make it sound as if you were squandering your life before your injury. Were you living the life of a privileged wastrel?”

“Hardly.” His face darkened. “I allowed a childhood tragedy to color my life. I felt guilty for being alive after my mother and father died when I was fifteen. I think that’s why I went to war. I didn’t think it mattered if I died, too.”

“I beg your pardon.” Her heart ached for him. “I didn’t know about your parents.”

He studied her face. “Did you not?”

“How would I? You just now told me they died when you were a boy.” Nausea churned in her belly at the thought of Griff suffering such a dreadful loss as a young boy. “I’m terribly sorry.”

His probing gaze fixed on her. Almost as if he expected her to say something more. Something of more interest than the usual platitudes. But then he seemed to remember himself, and his strange mood evaporated just as swiftly as it had appeared.

“My apologies,” he said, his words lighter and brighter. “Sometimes the old melancholy still intrudes. Now, how much do I owe you? My intention is to pay for all of Annie’s treatment.”

“The extra fee you gave me last time will suffice.”

“I prefer that you keep that for someone else who needs it. I want to take care of Annie. Mrs. Peele looked after me after my parents passed.”

“Beneath all of that ice, there is a heart after all.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are obviously fond of your housekeeper. Most aristocrats take no notice of their servants.” Or any member of the laboring class.

“I was in the army. I served with men from all walks of life and was privy to their challenges, particularly their financial struggles.”

That explained his desire to ease the housekeeper’s burden. “My fee for Annie is the same as yours. Two guineas.”

He pursed his mouth as he withdrew the sum from his pocket. “I still say you should charge triple what you do.”

It was tempting. If she did, she’d have more money to put toward opening the dispensary. But most of her patients were not as well-to-do as Griff and could ill afford higher charges.

“Well, I suppose that is it.” He paused, and she could feel him thinking. Was he attempting to prolong the moment? She should want him gone, but she didn’t. She tried to think of something to say so that he wouldn’t leave so quickly.

He gestured toward the wall. “You said that sketch was done by a fellow named Bidloo.”

“Indeed.”

“Very well. Since you will not allow me to compensate you as you deserve after curing me—”

She interrupted on a sigh. “We aren’t truly going to have this fruitless discussion again, are we?”

“If you would allow me to finish?”

With a sweep of her arm, she gestured for him to continue. “By all means.”

“As I was saying, since you won’t take money, perhaps you will allow me to escort you to see a collection that includes this Bidloo fellow’s works.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “And where would this collection be?” She didn’t know of any museum or society in London that carried Govert Bidloo’s works.

“Nearby.”

“How nearby?”

“Ah, you will just have to agree to allow me to accompany you there.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

She hesitated. She shouldn’t go anywhere with the man. She should politely thank Griff and send him away. But the opportunity to see Bidloo’s works was too tempting.

“Very well,” Hanna said. “Tomorrow it is.”