He sat as still as he could, white faced as the needle and thread did the job of pulling the wound shut. Uriel did not pass out, to his credit, this time. He stared at his wife's face, focusing on her and her alone. His eyes met hers and he gave a strained smile. He would be just fine, it was a mere flesh wound. Never again would he pull such a stunt as to try and open a wine bottle for his brother who must be out of his damn mind to get married to a woman who was already tangled in a web of disgrace by being the wife of the Whitby Ripper AND the fact he was a Carrington.

The whole thing came rushing back in reminder and it took all of his self control not to shoot out of the chair and tell his brother what a damned idiot he was being getting himself entangled with Sonia Carrington.