‘It will not come to that. You won’t go backwards. We will find some other pursuit to occupy your time, my darling. Your father is right—there are many charitable endeavours hereabouts. Perhaps one of those would interest you as much. The ladies’ circle I attend is very pleasant and we don’t just knit stockings for the poor. We make up baskets, visit the needy. You could come with me. I could try to become more active.’
Her mother meant well, but they both knew she had too many responsibilities as an earl’s wife to be able to commit to more than a few mornings a week and making up baskets was not the sort of meaningful purpose Bella relished. However one looked at it, her situation had become hopeless again. ‘I was learning so much about medicine at the infirmary.’ Without thinking, Bella sought out the wooden stethoscope on her pillow and she clamped it in her fist. ‘It’s been marvellous.’
‘I’ve enjoyed watching you these past few weeks. Every day, I’ve seen a little bit of my daughter return to me. You always were so tenacious. Always so mindful of the plight of others and keen to help them. I was so proud to hear about how you saved that boy.’
‘I hardly saved him. I merely helped to control his fever.’
‘Fevers kill, my darling. Who knows what might have happened to that child if you hadn’t been there?’
A valid point. ‘Perhaps I should tell Papa exactly that? What will happen the next time a child is in danger? Dr Warriner is run off his feet and cannot be everywhere. Does Papa really believe I would find knitting stockings more rewarding than saving a life? He wants me to get better. He keeps telling me he will do whatever it takes to help me get better—and then he does this? I’ve been trying so hard to be logical rather than irrational...it isn’t fair.’
‘It isn’t fair.’ Her mother stood and paced to the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest. ‘Men always believe they know what is best for us.’
‘Being forbidden to set foot in the infirmary is not what is best for me.’
‘But he thinks it is. He thinks he is protecting you.’ Her mother sighed, then turned, her eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps it is best if we allow him to continue to think he is protecting you? If he thinks you are knitting stockings or making up baskets, he will be content knowing he did the right thing.’
‘And my feelings do not matter?’
A slow smile began to spread over her mother’s face. ‘You are so like your father. The world is so clear cut to you both. Things are either wrong or they are right and there is no in between. Fortunately, like your sister, I have a devious streak. I am not suggesting you knit stockings. I am suggesting your father thinks you knit stockings. He is so busy trying to run his investments in town from a distance and will doubtless have to travel back there frequently throughout the summer, he will not check. As long as I tell him you are part of the same ladies’ circle as I, he will not bother to query it and Clarissa is unlikely to want any part of it. She hates volunteering for anything, so she will be none the wiser. As long as you are careful, I see no reason why you cannot continue your work and education in the infirmary. The staff and Dr Warriner would have to be sworn to secrecy, of course—but seeing as you are so useful to them, I dare say they will.’
‘You would lie to Papa for me?’ Suddenly, the world was not such a grim place.
‘I’ve lied to your father about all manner of things for years. Most wives do. As long as he hears what he wants to hear, he will be perfectly content.’ Her mother wrapped her arms around her. ‘Do you think you can manage getting to the infirmary by yourself? Clarissa is bound to get suspicious if you insist on bringing her as before and your dear papa does like me to be at home.’
Bella would walk over hot coals if it came to it. ‘I will manage.’ It was just a short walk across the square and now she knew to keep a watchful eye out for rolling vegetables. ‘Thank you, Mama!’
* * *
Monday was running away from him. After a busy morning surgery and two unexpected calls to opposite ends of the village hastily tagged on to his long list of scheduled visits, it was past three when Joe finally arrived at the foundling home to check on Tom. He took the stairs two at a time and dashed down the hallway to the infirmary. If Tom was well enough to be sent back, then at least he would have one less pressing matter to attend to for the rest of the week. A week which was rapidly filling up with more tasks. Joe really needed to employ an assistant, which meant he might have to start insisting on actual coin as payment. Either that or surgically split himself in two to be able to cope. He shouldn’t have wasted an entire Sunday at leisure and he certainly shouldn’t have bothered wasting his time calling on Lady Clarissa. Being told the family were not at home, when he could hear them plainly talking in the drawing room beyond, had been humiliating.
Inevitable, when he recalled how the Earl of Braxton had positively oozed hostility, and probably for the best. Joe had known his pathetic mooning was futile and he also knew better than to be goaded into doing something foolhardy by his irascible younger brother. It was a good thing Jake had no idea he had visited the house and then been denied entry, as Joe would never live it down. He doubted the charming Jake was ever turned away from a young lady’s front door. Thinking about how he had felt on that doorstep, nervously twisting his hat in his hands in a desperate attempt not to be the placid Warriner his brother had playfully accused him of being, made him slightly queasy.
He could cope with being scholarly—but placid sounded so dull and insipid. Placid most definitely would not win him the hand of the fair maiden, not that he had ever seriously hoped to win it, and with hindsight he should have listened to himself and worshipped her from afar. Now he had to suffer the painful indignity of the two vexing Beaumonts knowing he had been sent away with his tail firmly between his legs because he was nowhere near good enough to socialise with. Why the devil had he listened to Jake?
Joe skidded to an abrupt stop at the open doorway of the boys’ ward and stared agog. Not only did Tom appear to be in fine fettle as he had expected, he was also cuddled in the arms of the younger Beaumont, who was laughing as she read to the boy from a large picture book.
Joe stepped quickly out of sight behind the door frame and simply watched the oddly arresting and surprising sight. She was so animated. Vivacious even. That laugh too loud and too boisterous to belong to a truly shy young woman. Little Tom was bestowed with the full, beaming glow of her stunning smile as he giggled on her lap, and even more shocking, the quiet, measured, scholarly Lady Isabella was acting out the story with different voices.
The noonday sun glinted off Captain Galahad’s cutlass. ‘Stand down, Brimstone! Unhand Miss Freckles!’
‘Never!’ the dragon roared as hot flames shot out of his nostrils, ‘She is my prisoner and she will stay with me for ever!’
‘Then you give me no choice...’
Her voice petered off as she sensed she was being watched, then her eyes warily locked with Joe’s. The boy tugged at her dress impatiently. ‘What happens next, Bella?’
Informal, too?
Interesting.
As soon as he thought the word, he remembered how Jake had teased him about preferring Bella and tried to conjure Clarissa in his mind just to prove to himself his brother was wrong about that at least. With the bookish, dark-eyed, brunette Isabella there in front of him, his skin tingling and his mind instantly filling with erotic images of her lovely legs, that proved surprisingly difficult.
She’d also done something different with her hair. It was looser. Not as sensible. Thin plaits were woven around thicker coils of hair and arranged in a way that emphasised the almost feline slant of her eyes. Very pretty. Beautiful even. Disconcerting. More tingles.
‘We will continue with the story later, Tom. Dr Warriner has come to check on you.’ Hastily, she lifted the child back on to the mattress and made a great show of tucking him back into bed while he badgered her incessantly about the rest of the story. By the time she stood up she was all formal again, t
he lovely smile long gone. She was also, he noticed, edging slowly back towards the door almost as if she wanted to blend invisibly into the background or retreat from the advancing enemy unseen. He strolled into the room, grinning at the boy in an attempt to reassure her, too. ‘How are you feeling, young Master Thomas?’
‘I would feel a lot better if Bella finished the end of the story.’
‘I am sure it will all end happily. The Orange Blossom stories usually do. Or the dragon will eat her. Either way, you shall have to wait.’ He gently examined the outside of Tom’s throat. Joe did not need to see the boy’s tonsils to know he was fit and well. So fit and well he was practically bouncing on the mattress with unspent energy. ‘Poke out your tongue, you rapscallion, and say ah.’
Tom managed this briefly between bounces. The tonsils which had been red-raw and blotchy only a few days before were nearly back to normal. ‘Does it still hurt to swallow?’
The boy shook his head. ‘Not much now. The ice cream took the scratchiness away.’
‘Ice cream?’ Joe looked quizzically at the silent statue next to him and saw her blink guiltily.
‘I thought the cooling properties would tame the swelling.’
‘And where, pray tell, does one get ice cream in Retford?’
Tom answered for her. ‘Bella’s cook made it. She brought some this morning especially for me and she drizzled it with honey.’
‘Did she? What a splendid treat. Is there any left?’
‘No, sir. I ate it all after I took my medicine.’
‘Well, clearly Bella’s ice cream is exactly what was needed to aid your convalescence and I bow to her greatness.’ Joe executed a mock formal bow from his seat on the mattress and watched her blink again, then stare at her hands. Was she embarrassed he had been turned away from her house? Joe certainly wasn’t going to mention it. The humiliation was too fresh and he was still fuming about it, although as always he was bottling that anger up inside. Better to pretend nothing was amiss than give in to the temptation to hunt down her pompous father and give him a piece of his mind. Joe didn’t allow himself to lose his temper often, but when he did it was something to see. ‘When did he last have his medicine, Bella?’ It was a tiny act of defiance and he liked the way her eyes widened slightly each time he said her name.
‘He is due more now, Doctor.’
‘I’m not taking it without ice cream! And make sure it’s drizzled with honey.’
‘Bella is not your slave, young man. Apologise immediately.’
She winced, making her perfectly straight nose wrinkle, and she still refused to meet his eyes. ‘It’s my fault. I used the ice cream as a bribe to get him to take it earlier because he had been very reluctant to have it otherwise. Just before you arrived, he promised to take his medicine...as long as I finished the story.’
‘Master Tom, you should be ashamed of yourself! What a troublesome patient you are turning out to be. Poor Bella. If I was her, I would hold you down and pour it into your throat. And I would refuse to read you the rest of the story.’
The boy giggled. ‘It wouldn’t matter. She read it all the way through this morning.’
‘All the more reason why you should be ashamed of your behaviour.’ Joe casually picked up the prepared drink and began to spoon it into the bouncing boy’s mouth. ‘And did you find out if Captain Galahad rescued Miss Freckles from the dragon?’
‘He did, sir. They had a magnificent battle with swords and fire. Captain Galahad was victorious.’ The boy frowned. ‘Then it got a bit soppy. The captain asked Miss Freckles to marry him, then they rode off into the sunset together.’
‘I suspected as much. The Orange Blossom stories always have a happy ending.’
Joe shot Bella a grin as he tousled the child’s hair and watched a pretty blush stain her cheeks. ‘I think you are correct, Bella. Send this malingerer back to the boys’ dorm this very afternoon. He has become far too fond of ice cream and spoiled with fairy tales.’
‘Woo-hoo!’ The boy began to bounce again. ‘I can finally take off this dreadful nightgown!’ The offending garment was gone in a flash, much to his nursemaid’s consternation.
‘Tom! At least wait until I have brought you your clothes!’ But the boy was already off the bed and running around in excited circles, deftly evading her arms. He did not expect Joe to grab him and lift his wriggling body calmly from the floor. Joe held him securely tucked under one arm.
‘Oh, to be six and unashamed to be naked.’ Joe handed her the giggling nude bundle. ‘Master Tom, there is a lady present. At least put your bottom away. A gentleman should never display bare cheeks to the world. It isn’t proper.’
To prove his point, Bella was glowing like a tomato. With determined precision, Tom was swiftly encased in a pair of knee breeches and the loose, comfortable smock worn by all the younger boys at the home, then there was no stopping him. He dashed off to rejoin his friends the moment his little feet touched the floor, leaving them all alone.
‘I am very sorry about that, Dr Warriner.’
The rosy blush and flustered state suited her as much as the plaits. ‘A physician sees all manner of things as a matter of course and it is hardly your fault he decided to strip off. His exuberance is testament to his speedy recovery—a recovery which you had a significant hand in. Your liberal use of ice cream worked wonders, by the way, and is a remedy I will shamelessly steal in the future. I am always on the lookout for a better way to do things.’
She gave him a brief smile and then turned and rapidly went about stripping the bed. ‘I am also sorry about my father’s behaviour yesterday...when you called upon us. I fear he has been listening to gossip.’
Chapter Seven
‘Pay it no mind.’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘We Warriners are used to it. I blame my grandfather. He treated his tenants abominably and swindled all the local tradesmen. As did his father before him. And then, of course, my own dear papa was a famous drunkard who was too quick with his fists and racked up debts all the way from Lincoln to Nottingham. He also, if the gossips are to be believed, drove his wife to suicide—but then I am told my mother was selfish by nature and did enjoy a bit of drama. Which was probably why she married him in the first place. Whilst those scoundrels fester in the ground, this generation suffers for their sins. The gossip about the four of us is quite wonderful, too. I suppose you have heard the story about how my oldest brother, Jack, kidnapped an heiress and compromised her into marriage? Each time I hear it told I swear it has been further embellished. The one about my other brother James is equally scandalous. He seduced the vicar’s daughter into sin and practically dragged her out of her father’s house after beating the man senseless—or so I’ve heard tell. For the record, neither account bears any resemblance to the actual truth, but who cares when the gossip is so delicious. I’m not surprised your father sent me away—I’m a danger to society. Frankly, I am surprised he has allowed you to continue here, what with me being the devil and all.’
He hid the note of bitterness well beneath a veneer of amusement, but his eyes gave him away. The gossip bothered him and rightly so. Bella now dreaded telling him the truth. ‘Actually...’ Shame made her dip her head and the silence hung for a heartbeat.
‘Ah...I see. I take it he doesn’t know you’re here.’
‘He thinks I am knitting stockings at the ladies’ circle.’
He had turned his back to look out of the window, so Bella had no idea how he felt about her confession. ‘And when he finds out the truth?’
‘I shall cross that bridge when I come to it—if I come to it. My mother is fairly certain he will take her at her word without challenge.’
She watched his shoulders stiffen and a hand scrape across his jawbone, and she got the distinct impression he was angry, yet when he turned to face her again his expression was bland. ‘With both his wife and his daughter lying to him, let us pray he remains blissfully in the dark.’ His arms folded across his chest as he pierced her with h
is gaze. ‘Tell me—why are you here, Lady Isabella? Is this some form of rebellion or a way of getting your own back on your father? An adventure, perhaps?’
The accusation stung. ‘I am not that shallow, Dr Warriner, and I resent the implication.’
‘Fair enough, I shall take you at your word, but there has to be a reason why you are defying him and coming here, despite his express instructions to the contrary, and if I am expected to lie for you, which I presume I am, I should like to know I did so for a good purpose. After all, I dare say I will be the first person your father hunts down when your duplicity is uncovered and I doubt he will be inclined to be reasonable. Not with my reputation.’
She knew lies now would likely only serve to alienate him and Bella needed his compliance to stay. ‘Since I was a little girl, I have had an interest in science and medicine in particular. Being here, helping these children, allows me to indulge that interest.’
His dark head tilted to one side as he searched her features for the truth. She tried and failed to hold his stare. ‘What else?’ For the first time he was not the affable and easy-going man she had always seen. This one had a stubborn set to his jaw, an edge of steel in his tone. He was offended and suspicious, the outer layer of calm belying his irritation, yet bizarrely the tight control he held over his emotions made her feel secure in his presence. Even angry, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her and she knew it without having to think it like a mantra.
‘There is nothing else.’ Although her cheeks were already burning with shame at the flimsy explanation.
‘You’re lying.’
‘It’s not a lie!’ At best it was a watered-down version of the truth. A watered-down version which skipped over a great many pertinent and humiliating details.
‘You are prepared to risk your father’s wrath because you have always had an interest in medicine and I am to risk bearing the brunt of it merely to indulge you? I think it is best you go home, my lady. I have no desire to be blamed for luring you into disobeying your father and I do not have time to pander to your indulgence.
A Warriner to Tempt Her Page 7
