A Warriner to Tempt Her

by Virginia Heath

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Joe saw his brothers properly for the first time on Thursday morning, after nearly three weeks apart. The four of them sat huddled in the big kitchen in the foundling home with Mellor the constable and Bella, of course, discussing bringing the quarantine to an end and counting their collective blessings that just seven people had suffered smallpox, only four of them from Retford. What could have been a horrendous and devastating epidemic had only claimed a single life.

  He still couldn’t believe the Reverend Reeves chose to die a painful, lonely death in the vicarage when help was just across the square. The volunteers had regularly knocked on his door and each time he had sent them away, muttering insults about the Warriners and their ungodly souls. When he stopped responding, they all assumed that he was ignoring them, but Jamie had become concerned as to why no candles were lit one night and he and Mellor had broken the door down. According to Jamie, he’d been dead for at least a day. They’d agreed to keep the tragedy from Joe because they knew he would blame himself for not being able to prevent it. In many respects, they were right. Nobody deserved to die in agony—even a twisted and spiteful man like his sister-in-law’s father.

  Tomorrow, they agreed, the roads and the market would reopen and the hastily commandeered temporary hospital would shut its doors for good. The unfortunate six remaining victims would leave at dawn. All battered and weakened by the illness, all undoubtedly would take months to fully recover, but at least they could begin that long road in the comfort of their own homes, surrounded by the people they loved.

  ‘I reckon this town owes you, Dr Warriner. It owes all of you and I sincerely hope they remember all you’ve done to help them.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ But one look at his brothers’ faces confirmed his belief they all held out little hope. ‘But old wounds run deep, Mr Mellor.’

  ‘I’m hopeful this town might surprise you.’

  Before Joe bade them farewell, they talked about how soon the foundlings could return to the building. ‘Every piece of cloth, mattress and blanket will need to be stripped out and burned. Every wall, floor and stick of furniture will need to be scrubbed with lye soap.’

  ‘And gin. We’ve completely run out.’ Bella grinned at him. ‘We’re going to need plenty of gin to mix with the water.’

  ‘Gin?’ all three male visitors said in unison.

  ‘Indeed. Joe is convinced the gin helps to ward off infection.’

  The constable simply nodded. ‘Well, Dr Warriner’s newfangled theories had proved right before, who am I to question them? I’ll send some men to Nottingham today and make sure they fetch plenty back for the morning.’

  ‘Even with it, the building will need airing for another week before we can consider bringing back the children.’

  Once they had a plan, Joe and Bella headed back to the infirmary to make their own preparations. Mrs Patterson was sent home. Now the crisis was passed, the extra bodies weren’t needed and selfishly Joe wanted Bella all to himself tonight. Technically Jake and Mrs Giles were meant to remain with them for the sake of propriety, but he had tactfully gone off to oversee the cleaning of the post carriage before its journey back to Nottingham in the morning, dragging Mrs Giles with him, and Jake had failed to materialise by the time they went to bed.

  * * *

  He did, however, wake them up in the morning. Together. Which made Bella blush to the tips of her toes, but didn’t in any way faze his irascible brother.

  Just after dawn, Jake loaded the three locals into a cart to take them home. A few minutes later, Jamie and Jack arrived. Jack was on his horse and Jamie sat in the driver’s seat of the post, his black stallion Satan tied to the back, ready to carry him home once he had returned its weary passengers to whence they came. As Joe and Bella helped them aboard, Bella’s family arrived.

  Joe kept his distance while they hugged, busying himself with his patients, but when the big carriage finally rattled out of the market square, he wandered over towards them, feeling oddly nervous. It was not every day you had to stare into the eyes of a father whose daughter you had recently deflowered.

  The Earl walked towards him with his hand outstretched, clasped Joe’s and shook it heartily. ‘Bella has been telling me about your endeavours, Dr Warriner. I am heartily impressed. Heartily impressed.’

  Never comfortable with accepting compliments, Joe brushed it off. ‘I was simply doing my job, your lordship. Your daughter deserves more of the credit. It was her idea to quarantine the town. Bella has been my rock these last weeks.’ A rock he intended to anchor himself to for ever. ‘I’d have been lost without her.’

  ‘She seems...well.’

  ‘She is well.’ Those walls had been replaced with blue sky. A horizon they would head towards together.

  ‘I need to thank you for that, too. You have been a good friend to her since we arrived here in Retford. Have dinner with us tonight. I know Bella would enjoy it and I’ll wager you are eager to reacquaint yourself with Clarissa.’ The older man winked and Joe winced.

  ‘About that...’

  ‘Dr Warriner!’ Mr Mellor strode into the square with an angry-looking mob behind him. ‘We want a word with you!’

  Instinctively Joe’s head whipped to his eldest brother. All the Warriners looked to Jack in times of trouble, but Jack appeared unperturbed. If anything, he seemed amused as the constable strode towards him. Bella, on the other hand, rushed to Joe’s side and gripped his hand in support.

  The constable stopped dead in front of him and pointed one beefy finger in Joe’s face. ‘Leave. Now.’ Behind him the mob nodded in noisy agreement. They all wore angry expressions.

  ‘I don’t follow, Mr Mellor.’

  The constable gestured behind him with a jab of his thumb. ‘We want you gone, Warriner.’

  None of this hostility made sense. Something must have happened. Joe moved Bella behind him and folded his arms across his chest, feeling his temper begin to boil. Yesterday, this man had claimed the town owed Joe a debt of gratitude and now he appeared to have brought most of them baying for his blood. After what had happened the last time Joe had addressed a crowd in the square, he was reluctant to be the cause of another riot—not with Bella so close by. Maybe diplomacy was the key while he assessed the lay of the suddenly shifted land?

  ‘This building belongs to my family, so I’m not leaving.’

  ‘Yes, you are. Your work here is done. Go home.’ From behind his back the constable produced a bucket and grinned. That was apparently the signal the rest of the mob had been waiting for. Their angry expressions were replaced with smiles as close to a hundred people held up mops, brooms, buckets and bottles of gin. ‘You and your fiancée have done enough and deserve a rest. We’ll scrub the foundling home clean.’

  Like a swarm of bees, a hundred feet clomped past him and streamed into the building behind. Many patted him on the back or paused to shake his hand as they went, leaving Joe more than a little stunned and completely overwhelmed by the time the unexpected welcoming parade had disappeared into the foundling home. Sensing it, Bella wrapped her arms around his waist and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Like all their kisses, it got a little out of hand until they both realised they still had an audience.

  ‘Fiancée?’ The Earl of Braxton was gaping at them like a fish. ‘But I thought you had set your cap at Clarissa.’

  ‘I don’t own a cap and my heart always wanted Bella.’

  ‘It did?’ Now it was the Earl’s turn to be befuddled. ‘Well, I suppose that’s splendid, too... And this is what you want, daughter?’

  ‘It is. I am resolved to be a doctor’s wife.’

  He loved the sound of the word wife when it came from her lips. Joe bent to kiss her again and pulled away with a groan when he heard Mrs Patterson’s approaching voice calling him in a tone he recognised all too well. ‘Dr Warriner! I’m so sorry to bother you, but Lady Fordyce has gone into labour and has called for you to attend her.’

  ‘Lady Fo
rdyce is Dr Bentley’s patient.’ She had far too much money to be one of Joe’s. Joe’s patients paid in hair combs or chickens, not shiny gold coins. Besides, he wanted to carry on kissing Bella.

  ‘I did tell her husband that, Dr Warriner, but Lord Fordyce said, and I quote, he wanted a proper physician to attend his wife. One with modern ideas and upstanding morals. Should I tell him you are indisposed?’

  For a second he selfishly wavered until the physician inside him sprang forth. Clearly he was for ever doomed to need to rescue people. ‘No. I shall attend her.’

  Joe glanced back to Bella apologetically. ‘I’m afraid this is merely a taste of what it will mean to be a doctor’s wife. I scarcely get five minutes to myself.’ Perhaps he was the one being unfair? He could hardly dedicate all the time to being the husband Bella deserved when he knew deep down that this was who he was. ‘My life is often frantic and—’

  Bella silenced him with a kiss. ‘I’ve never attended a birth.’ She threaded her arm though his and beamed at his housekeeper. ‘Mrs Patterson, can you have my fiancé’s curricle brought around? And can you see that its medical chest is topped up?’ Turning to her parents, she grinned. ‘We might not be back for dinner. Births can be problematic, or so I have read, and babies do tend to come when they are ready.’

  ‘Indeed they do.’ Joe’s hand came to rest possessively over hers as he led her across the square. Bella was exactly like him. His perfect match. Real, resourceful, a consummate rescuer and utterly brilliant. ‘Breech births, for example, need to be dealt with swiftly else both the mother and the babe are in danger. Twins can be tricky, but most labours are straightforward. Once you’ve assisted me with a few of them, you’ll soon pick it up.’

  Joe stopped abruptly, a look of wonder on his face. ‘You’ll finally be able to hear the twin heartbeats I was telling you about. Where did you leave your stethoscope?’

  Bella’s fingers went to her pocket, where it always was. ‘Right here. I would never leave home without my most important piece of medical equipment.’

  His deep blue eyes swirled with amusement. ‘That’s my girl.’ Which she was. And always would be. His. Heart and mind. Body and soul. ‘Then you’d best follow me.’

  ‘To the ends of the earth.’ And into the brilliant, blue daylight stretched wide open in front of them. ‘Can I drive?’

  * * * * *

  If you missed the first and second stories in

  THE WILD WARRINERS series, check out

  A WARRINER TO PROTECT HER

  A WARRINER TO RESCUE HER

  And look out for the last novel

  in the quartet, coming soon!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from REDEEMING THE ROGUISH RAKE by Liz Tyner.

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.

  You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.

  Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!

  Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.

  Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice

  OR

  EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.

  Click here to join for FREE

  Or visit us online to register at

  www.HarlequinMyRewards.com

  Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.

  Redeeming the Roguish Rake

  by Liz Tyner

  Chapter One

  Thumps sounded on the stairs outside the bedchamber. Foxworthy sat straight, covers falling to his waist, just as the door swung open. He looked at the visitor’s hands first. No weapons. He raised his glance to his cousin’s face. Andrew wore one of those grim-lipped spectacled looks even though he didn’t wear spectacles.

  ‘Stop swearing,’ Foxworthy said. ‘I do not abide such language.’

  ‘If so, that’s your only virtue and it’s one more than you had last week.’ Andrew paused.

  ‘I’m on an improvement regimen.’

  ‘About time. You look ghastly. As though you’ve not slept a night this week.’

  ‘A bit of tiredness on my face and the ladies flutter about with suggestions on how to make me feel better. I can’t complain.’

  ‘I just heard about your little escapade.’

  Foxworthy nodded his head. ‘A priceless moment I will not forget.’ And he doubted anyone would let him from the look on his cousin’s face. However, at the moment, he simply could not recall it. He’d danced a lot at the soirée—that he remembered. He’d decided to take a turn with every woman in attendance and in the short time of the dance, discover what was most endearing about her. Then Lady Havisham, all of elbow high to him and feisty as a tavern wench, had told him she could drink more than he. Since he’d started much earlier than her it was a difficult competition. She’d conceded defeat and he’d placed a kiss right on the top of the knot of her grey hair and she’d said she wished she had a grandson just like him, only smart and handsome.

  He put a hand on his head. ‘The woman must have been pouring it into her reticule.’

  ‘You proposed.’

  ‘I did?’ He checked his cousin’s eyes to see if he told the truth. ‘To Lady Havisham? I can’t imagine she’d be foolish enough to say yes.’

  ‘You don’t remember?’ Andrew snorted. He kicked the base of the bedpost, but the frame didn’t move. ‘You don’t remember?’

  ‘Not at the moment.’ Fox pushed himself from the bed. Pain shot through his knee. He moved to the mirror, favouring the leg.

  ‘Millicent Peabody,’ Andrew continued. ‘Bended knee, in front of six witnesses.’

  Fox smiled, remembering. ‘Yes. It was quite romantic. I only wished I’d had a red rose, but the proposal was unplanned.’ And he was going to pay for the rather dramatic crash to one knee. It played to the group well, but he wasn’t sure if the pain was worth it.

  Andrew choked and swung around on one foot, looking away from Fox. ‘So why must you do it?’

  In the mirror, Fox examined his face. ‘I do look like I could use a drink.’

  ‘Why did you propose to Mrs Peabody in front of everyone?’

  Andrew moved closer, eyes tightened. He expected an answer.

  ‘Millicent Peabody’s husband was being such a toad.’ Fox tossed the words out. ‘Earlier, he told everyone in the card room that he could not abide how frumpy she’s grown since the children arrived. Mrs Peabody is lovely and her husband is too daft to know what a treasure she is because he’s chasing every tart in town.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Andrew’s eyes darkened. ‘You do it so you’ll be mentioned in publication. Your sodden brain believes you must rival Lord Byron for attention.’

  ‘Exceed. Exceed Byron,’ Fox said, lips turning up. ‘This proposal even put tears in one debutante’s eyes.’

  ‘Fox,’ Andrew spoke softly, crossed his arm across his waist, rested an elbow on his other arm and tapped his fingertips against his lips. ‘How many times have you proposed to a married woman?’

  ‘It is not the quantity, it is the quality of proposals.’

  ‘How many times now have you publicly proposed to a married woman?’ Andrew repeated, voice rising.

  ‘I c
an’t very well propose to an unmarried woman. Might distress her when I don’t show up at the wedding. Proposing to a married woman is more sensible.’

  ‘To everyone except the husband.’

  Fox quickly pulled on a shirt. ‘That may have entered my mind, but I discounted it. Too minor to concern myself with.’

  ‘I see your point. Mr Peabody is feeling disgraced and is planning to kill you. If he succeeds you will be in the papers again. Good plan. You should have thought of it years ago.’

  Fox looked over his shoulder. ‘I assure you, my demise would be on the front page and not only for one day or two. They would devote considerable space to the event.’

  ‘I could get my wife to draw up a caricature of your passing on as well, and proposing again.’

  ‘Assuming there are married women in the hereafter. Which is an immense leap of faith.’ Fox poured water into the basin and wet a flannel before pressing it to his face. ‘Make sure Beatrice gets my smile just right. I do want to be remembered as I am.’

  ‘Including the wrinkles?’

  Foxworthy patted his face clean and reached for the comb, but he spared another glance for the mirror. Not a line. Nothing. Not even at the eyes. His movements stopped and he stared into his reflection. Nothing. A caricature of a person. He flicked the comb against the glass, hearing the clink as he turned away.

  ‘You’ve moved through the ton, gathering the ladies about you,’ Andrew said. ‘It’s as if you wish to say to the husbands that had you asked the wife first, she would have chosen you.’

  Fox snapped around, his eyes on his cousin. ‘She would have. Nothing to do with me, though. The advantage of inheritance.’ His voice roughened. ‘The heir’s advantage. None of it matters. Not to the women. Not to their husbands. Not to me.’