Chapter 58
McDuff sat on a bench more uncomfortable than Father Hall’s church pews, elbows on his knees, aching forehead in his hands. Sharp odors of cleaners stung his nose, a sure sign they were in a private hospital rather than one of the poor public institutions.
Bertrand’s name, and likely his money, smoothed the way with Victoria still unconscious and unable to direct her own care.
Bertrand paced in front of McDuff, as he had since they first arrived. Each click-scrape, click-scrape seemed to tug at another of McDuff’s frayed nerves, but he didn’t move.
If he’d had to take Victoria to the places he knew, or could afford, she’d likely die of an infection if blood loss didn’t kill her. Here, in a clean, modern, royal hospital, she had a good chance of coming back out of the room ac
