Chapter Fourteen
They knocked on Rhodes’s door. After a moment, the valet opened it. He didn’t stand back to let them enter; instead he laid one finger to his lips.
“He’s asleep?” Primrose whispered.
The man nodded, and stepped out into the corridor.
“What did the apothecary say?” Oliver asked in a low voice. “Did he have any idea what’s causing it? How to stop it happening?”
“No, sir.”
“Had he no suggestions?” Primrose asked. “Nothing at all?”
“Rosewater or milk, which we are already using.” The valet gave a helpless shrug.
“There’s one very simple solution,” Oliver said. “Leave this place.”
The valet met his eyes. “I agree, Your Grace. But his lordship refuses to consider it.”
“If he’s not better tomorrow, he won’t have any choice in the matter,” Oliver said.
The valet looked
