After a few minutes of...intense discussion with his mother, the memory of which Lord Patrick was determined to suppress forever after, they all set out for the hospital and not long after entered St Bartholomew's small but homely maternity wing.
"Aaagh!" A sweet female voice shook the walls. "I swear I'm gonna kill dat bloody bastard! I ain't ever gonna let 'im stick 'is prick in me again! 'e'll be lucky if I won't squash 'is bloody bollocks!"
On the other hand, Lord Patrick thought in his infinite wisdom, maybe it would have been a wiser decision to stay away.
"My, oh my..." Amy cupped an ear behind her head. "I think I 'ear da dulcet tones of me friend."
"Bloody friggin' shit! Agh! Get that oversized parasite out of me stomach!"
"Yes...dulcet." Lord Patrick swallowed. "Very dulcet."
"Patrick Day, stop hanging back!" the dowager duchess called from ahead, sending a commanding glare in his direction. "You are a British gentleman! You should take responsibility!"
His Lordship Lord Patrick Day, peer of the British Empire and Knight of the Order of the Garter, felt his face twitch. "You do remember me explaining how I had nothing whatsoever to do with this, don't you?"
She sent him a stare of which only mothers are capable. A stare that promised no dinner, two weeks grounding, and other horrific punishments. "Harrumph. I am still sure that you are somehow ultimately responsible. Just look at the poor girl!" With maternal outrage, she gestured at Miss Amy Weston, who was currently having enormous fun indulging in fits of fake sobbing. "Look what you've done to her! How could you betray her like that? How could you just throw her away for some other woman?"
"I did not...you aren't listening, are you."
"There, there." Putting a comforting arm around Amy's shuddering shoulders, the dowager duchess patted her gently. "Don't cry. I'm sure he won't leave you, dear. He'll make it up to you." Glancing over her shoulder, she threw another glare at her son. "Will you look at that? You should be ashamed of yourself! Can you see how she's shaking?"
"Yes," Lord Patrick agreed, staring daggers at the shaking shoulders of Miss Amy Weston, who seemed to be having a really hard time to not burst out in laughter. "I can see that."
"Are you quite finished?" Dr Thomas T. Gallagher enquired, gesturing down a corridor to the left. "This way!"
Amy's signs of hilarity immediately ceased, as did Her Ladyship's stares. Lord Patrick was about to breathe a sigh of relief—when, once again, an earth-shattering bellow shook the hospital, followed by several ear-searing curses.
No relief yet, it seems.
All too soon, they arrived in front of a double door, from behind which continued curses issued. Some individual with a lovely sense of humor had placed a sign saying DO NOT ENTER—ONGOING OPERATION on the door, only with the word 'operation' crossed out and replaced by 'armageddon'.
Brushing the sign aside as if it weren't even there, Dr Thomas T. Gallagher opened the door and stepped into the room, then cast an enquiring glance back at his friend. "Are you coming?"
Lord Patrick decided he would need to thank his friend for this later. Hm...how about bringing him to Madame Mulberry's Tea Salon for Sophisticated Ladies for a nice cup of tea? It would be such a good way to show his appreciation.
"We're coming." Patrick gave his friend a smile that promised a multitude of various tortures. "We're coming."
***
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Dawn of the Duchess
RomanceAmy Weston had expected many things when starting her investigation into an underground slave smuggling ring. Being mistaken for a duke's fiancée by his own mother was not one of them. Now she has to fend off not only gangsters, but also etiquette t...
