Chapter Seven“This is delicious, Barnet!” Conrad said, sipping from the long glass that he had just been handed.
“It’s mango juice, sir.”
“Then I could drink a bucketful of it!”
Sitting on the terrace outside the house with the sea lapping only a few feet from him and the sun shining through the leaves of the tall trees, Conrad felt a surge of well-being sweep over him.
He knew that it was due not only to the fruit, vegetables and fresh food he had eaten since he had arrived, but also that Abigail had been satisfied with his wounds when she had dressed them very early this morning.
She had crept out of Clarence House before anyone was awake and, when she took off the old dressings, she had exclaimed with pleasure when she saw how cleanly the flesh was healing and that the inflammation
