The Artist's Healer

by Regina Scott

  Linus met her gaze, allowed himself to slip into the kindness shining there. Then he nodded. “Very well. I will do as this body advises.”

  As she gave his arm a squeeze, Mr. Lawrence glanced between him and Greer. “And what does this body advise?”

  Abigail straightened in her seat. “I move that we assign Doctor Bennett and his son a bodyguard from the moment the spa closes until it opens in the morning. This bodyguard will be chosen from among the men of the Grace-by-the-Sea militia with experience in using firearms accurately.”

  “Well, that narrows the field,” Lawrence muttered.

  Greer drew in a breath. “Very well. All in favor?”

  “Aye,” answered Abigail, Mrs. Catchpole, Mrs. Kirby, Ellison, and Lawrence in unison.

  “Let the record show that I disagreed,” Greer said. “But the motion passes. I’ll speak to Mr. Hornswag tonight about who to assign.”

  “I’ll send my oldest to you tonight,” Lawrence promised. “He’s our drummer, and he knows how to shoot.”

  The lad couldn’t be more than a few months over the age of fifteen, the youngest a male might enroll in the military. Had Linus merely added another for whom he was responsible?

  ~~~

  Insufficient. That was all Abigail could think. Davy Lawrence was a fine young man, but she could not imagine him fighting off three determined French soldiers. A shame she couldn’t be there to protect Linus and Ethan. Thanks to Doctor Chance, she knew how to fence at least. But she and Linus could not spend the night together in his little cottage unless they were married.

  For a moment, she imagined it. Her paintings on the walls, Ethan out on the shore playing catch-me-who-can with friends, Linus coming home from the spa after she’d closed the shop. He’d cross to her side, take her in his arms, and…

  “He is the stuff of dreams, isn’t he?”

  Abigail blinked. The meeting had ended. Everyone was getting up to leave, and Mrs. Catchpole was smiling at her.

  Abigail regarded her. “I beg your pardon?”

  Mrs. Catchpole held up her hands. “No offense meant.” She nodded to where Linus was speaking to Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Greer, offering them the details of his kidnapping so they could advise the officers at West Creech. “I asked you the same question twice, but it was clear where your thoughts were.”

  Hopefully not that clear, but her cheeks heated nonetheless.

  “I’m just concerned about him,” Abigail told her.

  “Course you are. We all are. At least we should be.” She narrowed her brown eyes at Mr. Greer. “Stay on our exalted president, and make sure he follows through.”

  “I will,” Abigail promised. “Was there something else you needed?”

  “Nothing as important as that,” Mrs. Catchpole assured her. “And if there’s anything I and my staff can do to help, just let us know.”

  Abigail did one better. When Linus arrived to drop off Ethan and check on her the next morning, she left at his side.

  “I take it nothing further happened last night,” she said as they came around the building. “Davy Lawrence acquitted himself well?”

  “He was asleep at the table when we woke this morning,” Linus said with a shake of his head. “I sent him home.”

  “We’ll do better tonight,” Abigail promised.

  He shot her a glance. “You will not be taking a turn, Abigail. While I appreciate you and Eva’s help, I cannot like involving you in this.”

  “I did not intend to take a turn,” she informed him. “And Eva and I are only helping at the spa until Jesslyn returns.” She nodded to Mr. Carroll, who was just opening his shop. He hurried out to intercept them.

  “So it’s true,” he said, sunlight gleaming on his spectacles. “We have French spies in the area.”

  Abigail could not wonder how the news had spread so quickly. There had been five people at the board meeting last night besides her and Linus, more than enough to ignite a fire of gossip in the village.

  “Three of them, to be exact,” Abigail said. “Somewhere between here and Upper Grace. Tell everyone to look sharp.”

  “I will,” he promised. He nodded to Linus. “I’m on rotation to serve you three days from now. I will pray we capture them before then.”

  “I’m sure that wasn’t a comment on his abilities,” Abigail assured Linus after he’d thanked the shopkeeper and they’d continued up the hill.

  “Very likely not,” Linus said. “But do we need to tell everyone what happened?”

  “Absolutely,” Abigail said. “The more who know, the more who can watch over you.”

  He did not look comforted. She still made sure to tell Eva everything the moment her friend arrived at the spa that morning with Mrs. Tully. Jesslyn’s aunt did not look pleased to be back in the spa, her narrowed gaze darting about as if she expected trolls to pop out of hiding.

  “We’ll keep Doctor Bennett safe,” Eva promised, hands on her lavender skirts. “I’m sure Lord Featherstone and the Admiral could assist. We might even get our two dandies, Mr. Donner and Mr. George, to do more than ogle the ladies.” She nodded to where the two younger men were lounging in chairs near the windows, watching a set of Newcomer sisters who were promenading with their mother.

  Abigail turned her gaze to the welcome book instead. “I know Jesslyn was being cautious of Newcomers. Anyone who arrived in the last fortnight could be suspect.”

  “Mr. Donner and Mr. George included,” Mrs. Tully declared.

  Eva wrinkled her nose as if she could not imagine the two dandies involved, then dropped her gaze to the book as well. “That’s at least two dozen people.”

  “We should interrogate them,” Mrs. Tully said. “Ferret out their secrets. I’m sure the fairies will help.”

  Eva put a hand on her arm. “I have a more important task for you. Will you play for us? It will distract the French from our intentions.”

  “They won’t suspect a thing,” she vowed before marching herself to the harpsichord. She spread her purple skirts to sit, and a sonata sprang from her fingers.

  “Well done,” Abigail told Eva. “Now, about these interrogations…”

  “Polite inquiries,” Eva amended.

  “You may be polite if you like,” Abigail said. “Just rule out the females. Linus seemed certain he was kidnapped by men. That leaves us with eleven. If you take five and I take six, we can question each and determine whether more drastic action is needed.”

  Eva agreed, and they put their plan into place that very morning.

  Abigail made sure to start with Mr. Donner. The handsome brunette had moved closer to the chessboard, where Mrs. Harding was watching Mr. Crabapple take on the Admiral.

  “Plotting strategy?” she asked the Newcomer.

  Donner smiled at her. “Always. A gentleman could learn a great deal from watching more seasoned campaigners.”

  Indeed he could. “Forgive me, sir, but I don’t recall which part of England you call home.”

  “London,” he said readily. “Is that not where all the best people reside?”

  Convenient answer. Arrogant too. She rather thought some of the best people resided in Grace-by-the-Sea. “And your family? Have they some fine estate in the country?”

  His face tightened. “No, Miss Archer. They do not.”

  “Ahem.” The Admiral affixed them both with a steely-eyed look. “We are attempting to wage war here. A little quiet would be preferable.”

  Abigail curtsied and returned to the welcome desk. Donner had proven more slippery than she had expected. All she could say she knew about him was that he had decided to prolong his stay. He might be a French agent, or merely an impoverished member of the gentry determined to pretend to more. These interrogations were decidedly tricky.

  She had a little more success with Mr. George. Once approached, he was happy to converse with her. In a few minutes, she learned that was from nearby Wiltshire and had loving parents and six charming sisters. She had thought his friendship
with Mr. Donner of long duration, but he admitted they had struck up an acquaintance on the stage on the way to the spa. As for Mr. George, he had come with hopes of acquiring a better connection to Society at lesser expense than traveling to London.

  Doctor Owens regaled her with stories of the patients he’d treated, some with rather stomach-turning ailments, before she found a way to escape. The other three gentlemen she attempted to question were more interested in flirting than direct conversation. Eva fared no better.

  “As innocent as the day is long,” she lamented as she and Abigail regrouped at the welcome desk.

  The best they could do was be watchful. Linus had appointments with patients for the first two hours, all female, so it was simple enough to ensure no Newcomer approached him. As the morning wore on, however, he came out of the examining rooms and mingled more with the guests. He spoke at some length with Mr. Crabapple, Lord Featherstone, and the Admiral. Mrs. Tully put herself in his path and shook her finger at him. Abigail was about to effect a rescue when Doctor Owens pulled him aside for a private word. Linus’s gaze veered to Abigail. She stood straighter under it. He excused himself from his colleague with a nod and came to join her.

  “I have been told you are badgering the guests,” he said, though his smile was amused. “I find that unlikely given how hard you and Eva work to keep the spa running well while Mrs. Denby is away. What are you up to, Abigail?”

  “Only doing my duty,” Abigail said. “If there is a French agent watching you, it stands to reason he must be a Newcomer. Eva and I are merely making sure of their innocence.”

  “And possibly endangering yourselves in the process,” he said, brows coming down. “Besides, Mrs. Denby and I already reviewed all the recent guests. None seemed suspicious.”

  “Perhaps you aren’t as suspicious as I am,” Abigail countered.

  Just then, a gentleman strode into the spa. She’d seen him in St. Andrew’s in recent months. One of the fishermen? He apparently recognized her as well, for he hurried to her side. “Miss Archer. Can you point me to the new physician?”

  “I’m the physician,” Linus said. “Doctor Bennett, at your service, sir.”

  He grabbed Linus’s arm, and Abigail bristled.

  “Come with me,” he told Linus. “Please. My wife’s having our baby, and her sister says all she can see is the buttocks. It’s stuck. You have to help us.”

  “I’ll get my bag,” Linus said.

  “And I’ll come with you,” Abigail added.

  Chapter Twelve

  Linus didn’t have time to argue with her. Eva must have overheard their conversation, for she came running with his medical bag. He was just thankful he’d already restocked it that morning. He followed the man from the spa, Abigail by his side.

  “This is our third,” the fellow was saying as they hurried down High Street for the cove, his worn brown coat flapping. “The first two were so easy we thought we could do it with only her sister to help. But something went wrong.”

  “The fact that your wife brought two children into the world stands in her favor,” Linus told him. “But a baby in the wrong position is never easy.”

  “You’re Mr. Evans, aren’t you?” Abigail asked the father as they passed Mr. Carroll’s.

  He nodded, brown hair beginning to stick out around his narrow face. “That’s right, miss. Came here two months ago to stay with my wife’s sister, Ruthie Jannesy. She kept writing us and writing us about how good it is to live in this village.” His hopeful smile faded as quickly as it had come.

  “It is a good village,” Abigail promised him. “You’ll see. Are you along the cove, then?”

  “Yes, miss. This way.”

  They came out along the shore and turned for the east, Mr. Evans’s legs eating up the rocky path. Abigail scurried along beside Linus. While he appreciated her trying to help, he could not like her pallor. The ginger of her hair stood out around a white face, and she kept her injured arm close, as if it pained her. He could only hope she would stay outside when they reached the little stone cottage on the opposite side of the cove from his.

  She came in right behind him.

  Unlike his cabin, this one had a single room, though a wooden ladder near the hearth led up to what was no doubt a loft. Normally, the family would likely have slept there, but Mrs. Evans was lying on a pallet against the white-washed back wall, blankets piled around her. Her dark hair hung limply around a face drenched in sweat. The younger woman holding her hand must have been her sister. Their eyes were nearly as wide as those of the two young children, perhaps six and four, huddled against the adjacent wall, one with her fist shoved in her mouth as if holding back her fears.

  “Right,” Abigail said to the children, moving around him as he headed for the mother. “I’m Miss Archer, and I know a secret. It involves cinnamon buns. Follow me, and I’ll whisper it in your ear.”

  The two little girls edged closer to her, and she shepherded them out the door.

  Clever woman.

  Linus knelt beside the mother. Her sister had draped the covers around her as if protecting her modesty, but he could see the mound of her belly, the hand that pressed against the pain.

  “I’m Doctor Bennett,” he told her with a smile. “Let’s see what we can do for your newest little one, shall we?”

  ~~~

  He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but the sun didn’t seem to have moved much when he stepped out of the cottage again. The sea breeze cooled the perspiration on his forehead and his bare arms where he’d rolled up his sleeves. Abigail was at the shore below the cottage, tossing rocks into the water with the children. He wouldn’t have thought that would hold such fascination, until she cocked her good arm and threw. The stone skipped across the waves three, four, five times before it sank. The youngest clapped her hands with delight.

  Mr. Evans came out of the cottage, bundle in his arms. “Sally, Mary, come meet your little brother.”

  The girls turned and ran to their father. Linus stepped aside to let them pass.

  “Success, I take it,” Abigail said, moving to join him.

  “Mother and son are doing fine,” he said, taking in a deep breath of the briny air. “Thank you for your help with the girls. Their mother was as worried about them as she was the birth. I have a question for you, though.”

  “Oh?” she asked, brows rising.

  “What’s the secret with cinnamon buns?”

  She smiled as she leaned closer, breath brushing his ear and her peachy scent teasing his nose. “They’re sweeter when they’re shared.”

  Linus had to stop himself from reaching for her as she leaned back. “Perhaps we should test that theory,” he said.

  “Only if we bring one back for the girls,” she said. “I promised.”

  “Give me a moment.” He went inside to fetch his coat and bag, then returned to the cove and washed in the brisk, salty water.

  “And they’ll be all right?” she asked, eyeing the cottage.

  “I’ll check on them tonight on the way home.” He rose and shook the water from his fingers.

  “I’ll speak to Mrs. Mance and the vicar,” she said as they started around the cove. “I’m sure baby clothes and blankets can be donated. And Mr. Hornswag will want to send down dinner tonight.”

  Linus smiled. “I’m sure that would be appreciated.”

  They walked up to the bakery together, where Abigail procured three buns—two for the family and one for her and Linus. After delivering their gift, she led him to a rough driftwood bench along the cove and sat to divide their spoils. The fishing boats rode at anchor, their crews already home with the day’s catch. The cove might have been abandoned, except for him and Abigail, and the shoppers up on High Street were heading for the spa.

  The sun warm on his face, a gull calling overhead, Linus’s muscles relaxed. He took a bite of the roll and savored the spicy cinnamon.

  “I don’t imagine you get much call to birth babies,” Abigail v
entured. She’d left her bonnet at the spa, and sunlight set her hair to gleaming.

  “Doubtful,” he allowed. “But I’d assumed I would be treating the villagers as well. I was surprised there were no examining rooms set aside for them, no separate entrance to the spa.”

  “Doctor Chance had such rooms in his home,” she explained, “but that was Shell Cottage, where Jess and Lark will be living now. The cottage you were given isn’t large enough.”

  “And poorly located on the harbor,” he agreed.

  She licked icing from her fingers. “We must find you a bigger house.”

  He could not look away from the shine of sugar on her lips. She must have noticed, for she cocked her head and returned his look.

  Once more his heart started pounding. He could not ignore its demands this time.

  “You’re right,” he murmured. “Cinnamon buns are better shared.” And he leaned forward and kissed her.

  She tasted of sugar and cinnamon, sunlight and sea breeze, and every other good thing he could imagine. Her touch, her sigh, carried him like a wave. He made himself lean back before he could sink.

  Her eyes were closed, lashes as dusky as cinnamon fanning her cheeks. Her lips were parted, as if she would breathe him in. Slowly, she opened her eyes and gazed at him in wonder. “You kissed me.”

  “I did,” he agreed, willing his heartbeat to slow. “It seemed…necessary.”

  “Perhaps it was.” She seemed more bemused than annoyed. “Do you intend to make a habit of it, sir?”

  The very idea sent his pulse rocketing again. “I hadn’t thought that far.”

  She pursed her lips, which only made him want to kiss her again. “Most unusual for a physician. I thought you always considered consequences, looked to outcomes.”

  Generally he did, but his heart had other ideas when it came to her. Still, a gentleman didn’t kiss a lady without expectations being raised. She had every right to an explanation, even if he could not bring himself to apologize for such a kiss.

  “I find you attractive,” he said. “I admire your talent with a canvas, your determination. And you had sugar on your lips.”