The Haunting of a Duke by Chasity Bowlin Page B

cooperate with the exam."
    "Are you a physician then?” she demanded, irritably.
    The truth of the matter was she was embarrassed. It had never been easy to be the center of attention, and to have both Lord Ellersleigh and His Grace peering down at her in her bed, in her night rail no less, with Gussy looking on like a hen worried over her chick, was simply too much.
    Michael smiled at her surly tone. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a physician. I chose to study medicine simply to irritate my father, and then to further complicate his life, I joined the army and put my knowledge to use for king and country. Now that my credentials have been addressed, may we proceed?"
    Further embarrassed, Emme nodded. She was acting like a petulant child and she knew it. She gritted her teeth at the pain as he poked and prodded at her pounding skull.
    With her consent less than graciously granted, Michael made short work of treating the wound. He then held up one finger. “Follow the movement with your eyes, but do not turn your head."
    He moved his finger from side to side and then up and down, and she followed the movement with ease. “I do not think your head injury is too severe. I believe that with rest, you will be fine. My primary concern is the dip into that very cold lake. We need to be certain that you do not catch a chill. Your maid should sit with you tonight to watch for any signs that your head injury is more severe than we realized and also to ensure that a fever is treated immediately, should one develop."
    "I will have one of the house maids assist you,” Rhys said to Gussy.
    Michael stared intently at her for a moment, “Can you tell me what happened?"
    Emme couldn't remember falling into the lake. “I remember walking by the lake and then I can remember, vaguely, Lord Brammel pulling me from the water. But it's all a blur, I'm afraid. I must have slipped."
    Michael stood. “We'll leave you now. You should let her rest only for half hour increments. If she rouses easily, let her return to sleep, but if you have any difficulty waking her, send someone to fetch me immediately."
    "Yes, milord,” Gussy said as she moved closer to the bed, to smooth the pillow and make her mistress more comfortable.
    "I need to speak with you, alone,” Michael said quietly to Rhys.
    Tense and worried, Rhys followed him from the room, his curiosity piqued by Michael's unusually serious tone. He hoped that Miss Walters’ injuries were not more severe than previously mentioned.
    Outside the bedchamber door, Michael turned back to face him. “What exactly happened, Rhys?"
    "What exactly is going on, Michael?” he queried back, his tone sharp.
    Michael stepped closer, and in a whisper, he said, “If she had fallen, she would have struck more than her head. There are no marks on her hands or her knees to indicate that she fell. The only injury is to her temple, here,” he said, indicating the area, “it would be all but impossible to fall in such a way"
    "You are suggesting that someone struck her and left her to drown?” Rhys asked.
    The thought had occurred to him immediately, but he didn't want to believe that. It changed everything.
    Michael shrugged. “She is here investigating your wife's suicide which may very well have been a murder, not to mention the fact that she is stirring up very old and dark secrets. Given the events of last night, it is reasonable to believe that there might be someone who doesn't wish for her to find those answers."
    "Speaking of last night, I received a missive from Hornsby. Apparently Madame Zuniga was working with a partner who has subsequently been arrested. The doors had been rigged to blow open, and afterward she was to enter a trance where the dead would speak through her. It appears that she and her partner had a serious disagreement, and he altered the plan. They apprehended him at an inn on the London Road. He is protesting his innocence, but Hornsby is having none of it. It's too pat, for