Finally Lucas rested his hands on Godfrey’s upper back, his head bent as if he was utterly exhausted. “I’ve done what I can for now,” he said wearily as he straightened. “We’ll see how well this holds.”

Godfrey tried moving a little, then more. Tears were running down his face when he pushed himself up with his arms. “Almost all the pain is gone,” he croaked. “How is that even possible?”

“Realignment of the bones has reduced the terrible pressures on inflamed nerves,” Lucas said as he stepped away from the table. “But you’ll feel sore and very weak for some time.”

Eyes wide with wonder, Godfrey swung his legs over the edge of the table, and promptly crumpled like a limp suit of clothes. Swearing, Patrick caught him before he ended up on the floor. “What the devil is wrong now, Foxton?”

“Your brother’s muscles have atrophied because of being used so little and so badly,” Lucas explained. “It will take time to rebuild them. Godfrey, you need gentle exercise and daily hot water baths to ease the soreness. You’ll be impatient about your progress, but eventually you should regain much of your strength and balance.”

Godfrey nodded and gripped one of his brother’s arms as he took a cautious step. “I’m weak as a babe in arms, Patrick, but I can walk without any pain to speak of. It’s . . . hard to imagine life without pain.” As his brother led him to a chair, he gazed at Lucas. “Saying thank you doesn’t seem like enough, Lord Foxton.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Lucas said. He was leaning against the treatment table, and Kendra guessed he was holding himself upright by sheer willpower.

“Then let me give you a piece of advice, Foxton,” Patrick said gruffly. “Stop acting so damned guilty when anyone looks askance at you. If someone asks about your parole or captivity, just say that the commandant of the facility didn’t uphold his end of the bargain, so you escaped. It has the advantage of being the truth. For what it’s worth, my brothers and I will spread the word that we misunderstood the situation.”

Lucas looked as if the other man had punched him in the stomach. Expression strained, he said, “You think that will stop gentlemen from giving me the cut direct?”

“Eventually. That, plus acting matter of fact about what you did instead of looking as if you were caught stealing a friend’s wallet,” Patrick said with acid humor.

He turned and helped his younger brother into his coat and boots, then collected the crutches. “Are you sure you don’t need these, Godfrey?”

Godfrey stood and took another, surer step toward the door. “Not at the moment. I want to walk out of here on my own two feet.” As he reached for the doorknob, he glanced at Kendra. “Are there any more like you out there?”