It took less than ten minutes to turn Marcus’s bedroom into a makeshift operating theater. Mrs. Wetherby returned with hot water and a supply of clean cloths. Two footmen were instructed to tie Marcus tightly to the bed, which they did, despite the horror that showed clearly on their faces.

Her mother asked for scissors. The sharpest, smallest pair they had. “I need to cut away the dead skin,” she told Honoria, tiny lines of determination forming at the corners of her mouth. “I watched the doctor do it with your father.”

“But did you do it?” Honoria asked.

Her mother looked her in the eye, then turned away. “No.”

“Oh.” Honoria swallowed. There didn’t seem to be anything else that could possibly serve as a reply.

“It’s not difficult as long as one can control one’s nerves,” her mother said. “One doesn’t need to be terribly precise.”

Honoria looked at Marcus, then back at her mother, mouth agape. “Not precise? What do you mean? It’s his leg!”

“I realize that,” her mother replied. “But I promise you, it won’t hurt him if I cut away too much.”

“Not hurt—”

“Well, of course it will hurt.” Lady Winstead looked down at Marcus with an expression of regret. “That’s why we had to tie him down. But it will do no permanent damage. It’s better to cut away too much than too little. It is absolutely essential that we eliminate all of the infection.”

Honoria nodded. It made sense. It was gruesome, but it made sense.

“I’m going to get started now,” her mother told her. “There is much I can do even without the scissors.”

“Of course.” Honoria watched as Lady Winstead sat at Marcus’s side and dipped a cloth in the steaming water. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Honoria asked, feeling rather ineffectual at the foot of the bed.

“Sit on the other side,” her mother answered. “Near his head. Talk to him. He might find comfort in it.”

Honoria wasn’t so sure that Marcus found comfort in anything she did, but she knew she would find comfort in it. Anything would be better than standing around like an idiot, doing absolutely nothing.

“Hello, Marcus,” she said, pulling the chair close to the bed.

She didn’t expect him to answer, and indeed, he did not.