an opportune time, Captain,” she began, ushering him indoors. “Manny has need of you.”

Fotherby felt the smile that had accompanied him back from Miss Simmons’ house slip from his face as Hannah guided him to the kitchen. Manny stood leaning over the table, wincing each time one of the serving maids wiped a cloth over his bleeding back. A look of disgust reached Fotherby’s face before he had thought to check himself.

“Yes, sir,” the maid said sharply as she looked across at him. “It is not just our hands and faces that are black.”

“Enough,” Manny said sternly, before Fotherby could answer. “Patience, hold your tongue.” He straightened to stand up and met the surgeon’s gaze.

“Get me the finest bottle of brandy Sir Man...

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