“I… That is, I’ll address my situation in a moment.” Rowles nodded. “I am grateful for your assistance.”

The two footmen bowed, and the third turned and bowed as well, acknowledging their duke’s words.

“See to your own needs.” Rowles motioned to the door. He then turned to the two nurses, who were watching him with wary eyes. “Please keep her sedated, and I’ll confer with the doctor.”

They curtsied, then shared a look with each other.

Rowles winced as he took a step toward the door. “I will be making different arrangements for her from now on,” he murmured.

The nurses nodded, then relaxed their rigid posture as if the words gave them stark relief.

He paused and turned to the nurses. “Has she been this violent before?”

The older of the two stepped forward. “Your Grace, this was more severe than usual, but her behavior has taken a violent turn as of recent.”

Rowles nodded. “I see.” He glanced from the nurses to the laudanum to his mother’s sleeping form. “Keep footmen beside the door and do not come in to care for her without assistance.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” agreed the older nurse.

Rowles took his leave then, his leg hurting like the devil. He made his way to his rooms. Thankfully, his valet was waiting, no doubt having heard about the fiasco from the rest of the house staff.

“Your Grace.” Lowson bowed as Rowles closed the door to his bedroom. “Where is your injury? Should I summon the doctor?”

Rowles nodded. “Send a missive to the doctor, but not for my injury. That, I am certain we can manage on our own. But I need to discuss my mother’s behavior and…” He paused, not wanting to say the words out loud but not having any other recourse.

Lowson waited.

“And see about assistance for my mother, more than we currently are able to provide.”

Lowson’s eyes lowered to the floor as he nodded. “I see, and I know you don’t make such a decision lightly, Your Grace, if I may be so bold.”

Rowles gave a shrug. “Be as bold as you wish. It won’t change a damn thing.”

“I’ll have a footman send word to the doctor, and then we shall discern what sort of injury you have received.”

Rowles nodded, and as Lowson quit the room to find a footman to take the missive to the doctor, he started to undress. His breeches had slits where the wooden table had split and splintered, ripping the fabric, and dark blood was drying the frayed cloth to his wound. As he removed the garment, the wounds reopened, seeping blood. Several long slivers peppered his thigh, and he withdrew some easily enough, but a few more remained, needing more than fingertips to remove them.