Chapter 74

Ashton sat in his study on Half Moon Street. Letters of a financial nature were strewn over the surface of his oak wood desk. The numbers on the letters blurred as pain lanced up his left arm, which still hung limp and useless in a sling about his neck.

What a bloody nuisance being shot was. He had lost so much of his strength that his footman had to do many routine things for him and his valet, once a minor irritation, had become indispensible. He couldn't put a shirt on, let alone tie his neck cloth or button his trousers without assistance.

It was most humiliating. Everyone treated him like a child in leading strings and he was tired of it. And he'd only been injured a few days. The doctor had given him instructions to rest for the next five weeks. The idea was intolerable. He, of all people, could not afford to rest. There was so much to be done aside from his business; namely tracking down Waverly and ending this battle before it could progress to a full-fledged war.

With a hea