But Gavan was of the opinion that the nurse wouldn’t even notice that he was missing. And if she did, she’d apparently be ecstatic. “She says I’m a thorn in her side,” he confided. “Please, can we just take a peek at the dog?”

So they were in the stable, trying to lure a small grayish mongrel whose only distinguishing features were bright black eyes and a general aura of dirt, when Linnet heard the clumping sound of Piers’s cane.

“There you are,” he said, not nicely. “For God’s sake, the nurse thinks the boy’s been stolen.”

“She’s not giving away my bed, is she?” Gavan cried. He tried to stand up and started to pitch to the side, though Neythen caught him in the nick of time.

“She can’t give away your bed, it’s got your fleas in it,” Piers said.

“I haven’t got fleas,” Gavan said. “Do you think—”

“Of course I don’t think,” Piers snapped. “What are you doing with that filthy mongrel?”

“He’s going to be mine,” Gavan said. “I’m going to tame him and he’s going to sleep on my bed.”

They had the dog cornered in a manger, but even so, it showed no interest in coming closer, no matter how many times Gavan called “here boy, here boy.”

“I expect his name isn’t Boy,” Piers pointed out.

He was scarcely looking at Linnet. And it was the most annoying thing, that way her heart had sped up when he entered the stables. Pretty soon she’d be listening for the sound of his cane like a lovelorn fool.

“What is his name?” Gavan asked eagerly. “Was he yours, once?”

“Of course he wasn’t mine. If you want him to come, you’d better offer him some beef.” He jerked his head at Neythen. “Prufrock’s looking for you. Go tell him where you are, and then come back and carry this varmint upstairs.”

“Well, if he’s not yours, then he can be mine,” Gavan said. “Maybe I’ll name him Rufus.”

“I suggest Peaches,” Piers said, giving Linnet a sly glance. “A name that’ll remind you of your father’s advice.”

“That’s not a good name,” Gavan said, shaking his head. “That’s a girl’s name. He’s more like a Rufus. Come on, Rufus.”

Linnet straightened up, since it seemed that Gavan was occupied trying to coax Rufus to play with a stick.

“And what in the merry hell do you think you’re doing?” Piers asked her. “You missed luncheon.”

He towered over her in a most annoying fashion. “I merely brought Gavan outside,” she said. “Unless I want to sit around your library and read medical tracts, I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“You should do whatever it is ladies do all day long. But stay away from my patients.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I told you to!”

She snorted. “You’re afraid of your nurse.”

“I am not afraid of Nurse Matilda. She’s a fine disciplinarian.”

“Then why did you bother stamping all the way out to the stables to find us?”

“Maybe I’m falling in love with you, just the way most of my household thinks.”

“They don’t think that,” she pointed out. “My household thinks that.”

“My man told me all about the bet. Your household is going to lose a lot of money,” he said with some satisfaction. “I hope you pay them well, so they can afford it.”

Linnet grimaced at him and then glanced back down. Gavan had crawled forward and Rufus was cautiously sniffing his fingers. “You can’t leave that child to die with a tartar of a nurse and no one but sick people around him.”

Piers gave a bark of laughter, so she glared at him. “I’m an uncaring bastard, am I?” he inquired.

“Yes.”

He leaned more heavily on his cane. “Are we going to stand around and have a meaningful discussion of patient care, or may I go back inside?”

“Why don’t you sit on that nice bench over there?” Linnet said.

“Why don’t I just go back inside—”

“Because I want to talk about the way you have patients lying in those beds just waiting for the end to come.”

“Why the hell would I want to talk to you about it? Your beauty hardly qualifies you as a medical professional.”

“One needn’t be a medical professional to know that it’s not right to leave a dying boy, a child, in there with all those sick people. He’s in bed all day. The nurse won’t even let him out for a moment.”

“I told her not to,” Piers said agreeably. “She generally obeys me because I pay her wage.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Linnet said. “You should have seen how happy he was to see the ocean. And now, with—” She glanced down. Rufus had sidled up and seemed to be peeing on Gavan’s bare feet.

“Nurse Matilda is not going to like that,” Piers said, with a distinct tone of glee. “She’s going to blame you.”

Linnet shrugged. “Neythen can dip Gavan’s feet in the horse trough just outside the door before returning him to the infirmary.”

“So just what do you think I ought to do differently with the west wing?”

“Make it more cheerful.”

“This is all about dying, isn’t it?” Piers leaned a little closer to her. “You’re afraid of it yourself.”

“This is not about dying,” Linnet snapped.

“Good,” Piers said. “Well, this has been a fascinating conversation, but my leg can’t take the excitement any longer.” He turned to go.

Linnet narrowed her eyes. She could feel her temper rising. “Are you just walking away from me?”

Piers looked over his shoulder. “Am I? Am I what? Walking—away?” He snorted. “Yes, I am.”

She darted around him and stood in front of the door. “Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Because you’re asinine.”

“You should have seen Gavan’s face when he talked about heaven,” she said fiercely. “He said the sun on the ocean looked just—”

“He may have looked like a dying cow,” Piers said, interrupting. “But I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

“Because he’s dying, you fool,” Linnet snapped.

“We’re all dying.”

“Not the way Gavan will. Or, at least not as soon, or as young.”

“Who knows when Gavan will die?” He shrugged. “I have to tell you that the chances are pretty good you’ll die before him. Even given women’s longevity, he’s only six, and you have to be twenty-five.”

“I’m twenty-three,” Linnet said, frowning.

“Given what I saw of his mother, I would guess that he’ll live to a ripe old age. She’s a tough woman, and she was smart enough to bring him here when he fell off the hayrick and sustained a compound fracture.”

“Compound—”

“Fracture. A break,” Piers said helpfully. “Now would you mind very much if I limp my way back to the house and report that the patient has been discovered, albeit covered with pee and no doubt flea ridden? Nurse Matilda is not going to like that.”