“Dr. Nicholas Ramsay, at your service.” His baritone voice was enchanting, melodic. She could listen to it all day as she drank in his eyes and thought of those lips—
“Dr. Ramsay,” began Lady Banbury, “whatever are you doing here? I didn’t know men of science appreciated music.”
“Oh but we do, Lady Banbury. So to be truthful, I hardly know what I am doing here.”
Helena let out a sharp laugh, then stifled herself immediately. Dr. Ramsay flashed her a grin.
Lady Banbury seemed unaware of any merriment around her. “Are you here alone, Doctor?”
“I arrived with Lady Foxley-Graham.”
“Of course, of course. Lavinia is a great lover of music, is she not?”
“She is. So much so, she left not too long after the event began.”
The audacity of the man was unbelievable. And most appealing. It was simply unreasonable that Helena should be denied a lifetime of melodious, witty intelligence with enchanting chocolate eyes.
But Lady Banbury seemed immune to his clever ripostes. And his charm. “Helena, dear, sit out of the sun over there while I rest my bones.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dr. Ramsay politely offered his arm for the short walk to the shade. Helena’s pulse raced at the mere idea of touching him and when she slipped her arm through his, the rush of excitement stirred up such a dizzying frenzy, she feared she would faint right onto the flagstones suddenly rippling dangerously beneath her. She wobbled and clutched his arm, then, utterly embarrassed, released and went limp. Gentleman that he clearly was, he made no comment but held himself perfectly steady as they strolled to the edge of the raised terrace. Inwardly, she sighed. Really all she wanted to do was lean her head against his shoulder and feel the rhythm of his gait.
“Lady Banbury appears to be resting her eyes as well as her bones,” he said quietly. “Would you like a spot of sun instead of the shade, Miss Phillips?”
How very wicked! “Yes, that would be lovely, Dr. Ramsay.” Her heart fluttered as she took the opportunity to study him, the simple act of moving two chairs into the dappled sunlight becoming a display of strength and sensuality. He motioned gallantly for her to take a seat, then sat at her side and looked out at the view of the garden.
It was a beautiful day. Pink and white blossoms rustled on the Roxtons’ apple and pear trees shading a sea of bluebells and bugles dotted with yellow cowslip. A bucolic scene utterly at odds with the event just witnessed. “Those poor Roxton girls,” Helena sighed aloud.
“Yes, well, I suppose that is what a young woman has to do these days to secure an advantageous marriage.”
His candid apprehension of the situation was disarming. “I suppose so. I should count myself lucky.”
“That you don’t have to grotesquely flaunt your talents to an audience of fashionable, unattached men?” His tone was teasing, but his estimation of her predicament astute.
“Well, not so obviously, at least,” she sighed. She glanced around furtively, finding the other guests scattered far beyond earshot. “Really, the singing and playing were quite dreadful,” she confided. “And no one will admit to that! All the men I’ve met today are far too polite. It makes them seem insincere. I could not marry a man who is not honest, a man who pretends to be impressed by such things.”
“And what sort of man could you marry?” he asked, raising a brow in anticipation.
Her cheeks turned hot. “Someone who is intelligent and kind.” You. She bit her lower lip to hide a smile. “And thoughtful. Someone who likes to read. And to travel. And pleasant to look at, I should think.” A nervous giggle escaped unwittingly.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
“What would?”
“A wife who likes to travel.”
“Oh! Have you traveled much?” she blurted.
He chuckled as he casually crossed his legs. “I’ve recently returned from a journey to the Near East.”
“Oh! How romantic!”
His smile was devastating. “I traveled around Persia and Egypt.”
This is too perfect.
“And I spent quite a bit of time in Turkey, Syria and Palestine.”
“Turkey!” she exclaimed. She leaned in a little. “Is it true the sultan wants young English girls for his harem?” she asked in a hushed tone.
Dr. Ramsay’s forehead crinkled in surprise. “Where on earth did you hear that?” he asked, a twinkle in his chocolate eyes.
“A book—” Helena broke off, mortified. Heat rushed to her face as she sucked in her lower lip.
“What book?” he goaded, pursing his mouth in a vain attempt to restrain his amusement.
It had been a rather salacious tome in her parents’ private library. She could never divulge such a thing.
He leaned toward her, so close she could feel his breath. “Be assured it is not true, Miss Phillips,” he murmured, finally breaking forth with a knowing grin. “And I think you better not admit to your future husband that you’ve read such stories.”
The glimmer in his eyes made plain he was teasing her again. Helena bit her lower lip and looked away, quashing her giddiness at knowing he too had indulged in such a story.
“And have you done much traveling yourself?” He changed the subject like a gentleman should, despite still being clearly diverted by the previous exchange.
“I’ve been to France and Switzerland. And America.”
“America!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to go to America. What’s it like?” He regarded her with a mixture of awe and reverence.
“My father is American, from New York state, so I’ve only really been there. The countryside is quite lovely. We’ve a home in New York City too. The city is big and busy and full of foreigners. Everyone is, well, familiar. Like they’ve known you all your life. So very friendly.” She cringed inside. It was unlike her to ramble so.
“The Turks are like that too.” He grinned again. “Friendly, I mean.”
A rush of heat told her she flushed crimson. Still, she couldn’t help smiling. His mirth, even at her expense, was infectious.
He politely turned his attention to the view of the garden and she took the opportunity to study his profile. Lady Banbury had deemed him unsuitable but he was by far the most interesting, personable man she had met all Season. And oh so very handsome. He had to be something other than a doctor.
She surreptitiously looked at his hands, slender and masculine, one set on top of the other resting on his knee. Devoid of rings, meaning he was unattached, but also meaning he was lacking in a family heritage.
So he was just a doctor.
She mollified her disappointment by peering at his very handsome face once again. His nose was sharp, pointed but balanced by a somewhat angular jaw and chin, so it did not appear to be a big nose. And besides, it was in proper proportion to his luscious mouth, twisted, as it seemed to be more often than not, in a smirk that revealed an active, interesting brain at odds with the frivolity of the afternoon’s events.
He turned his chocolate eyes to her, catching her in the act of gazing at him. “So, Miss Phillips,” he began softly, “what would you rather be doing than listening to the plaintive warbling of unmarried young women?”
Talking to you, looking at you, being at your side. “Reading.”
“Something more edifying than The Lustful Turk, I hope?”
Helena giggled. And then she laughed aloud. Which appeared to wake up Lady Banbury.
“Helena, my dear,” she called. “I see the party breaking up inside. Perhaps it is time for us to join them for refreshments.”
“Yes, Lady Banbury.” Helena stood to go help her chaperon out of her chair.
Dr. Ramsay stood too. For a brief moment they were posed face-to-face, his comforting eyes and luscious lips mere inches away. Her heart thumped, pulsing heat to flush her cheeks.
Helena bit her lip and curtsied to Dr. Ramsay. He grinned wonderfully and bowed back.
/> * * * * *
“Mrs. Phillips, my apologies. My associate is out this afternoon and I am handling all our cases today.”
Julius was, of course, rather surprised to see the lady, although he tried not to show it. He also tried very much not to gawk at her. She was stunningly beautiful, with rich auburn hair darkened by age and full lashes framing mossy green eyes. Seeing her unaccompanied by her daughter made her own attractiveness rather apparent.
“Thank you, Dr. Christopher.” She sat in the chair indicated. “To be truthful, I really don’t know why I am here.”
“Oh?” He took the opportunity to study her lovely features.
“You see, Charlotte, Lady Banbury I mean, suggested I talk to you. Specifically you.”
“And for what reason?” Julius knew why. Lady Banbury was one of his most ardent devotees and she recommended him to all of her friends. She had, in short, made him a wealthy man. And now, he realized, Sophia Phillips was to be his first experiment in his new way of thinking—teaching his patients how to heal themselves.
“I have been feeling, well, not myself of late. I usually love the Season, the parties, the people, the company—the gossip even. I’m meant to be an example for my daughter this year, to show her off, introduce her to the finest company. To get her married, really. But I feel uninspired, perhaps apathetic.”
“If I may, Mrs. Phillips, I understand your husband is absent this Season. Is this the first time he has been absent at this time of year?”
She screwed up her face, trying to remember. Julius could not help thinking how endearing she looked at that moment. Beauty deep in thought. It was very appealing. He drew up a chair to sit and hide his arousal.
“I suppose you’re right about that. He’s always tried to be in England at this time. It is the best time of year to be here, really. He says California can wait for January.”
Julius smiled—and when he did, the lady smiled back at him, an expression he swore was tinged with invitation.
“Mrs. Phillips, please do not think me impertinent, but I must ask.” He leaned over, his elbows on his knees, further masking his growing erection. “Are you and your husband intimate when he is present?”
“Intimate?” She looked genuinely confused at the question. “We share all our secrets. How do you mean?”
“I mean in the marriage bed. Do you spend time together in bed, your bodies joined intimately?”
Mrs. Phillips’ blush only heightened her perfect features. “Yes, Dr. Christopher. We have a very close relationship in that regard.”
“Very good, very good.” For the first time in a very long time, Julius found himself feeling a bit self-conscious. He drew in a breath and reminded himself he was a doctor treating a patient, no matter how exquisite she was, no matter how strong his desire. “I would imagine that you are finding yourself slightly bereft of your husband’s presence and affections. You miss him and your relationship with him, especially during this most important time in your daughter’s life. What I find helps in this type of situation is stimulation of the senses, re-enlivening them, if you will. I can provide this treatment myself but what I would prefer to do is to provide you with the tools to help yourself. When you are feeling disquieted, this technique will invigorate you.”
“Oh yes, please. Lady Banbury had mentioned you knew special methods to help women.”
“Yes, well…” He really needed to stop hemming and hawing. “I use what is called pelvic massage. It is traditionally a treatment for hysteria but I find that it helps for other psychic maladies as well.”
“Pelvic massage? Where? On the hips?”
“No, madam.” Julius inhaled, his breath shuddering in his lungs. “Between the legs. At the apex of the thighs.” He indicated on his own person, attempting to simultaneously cover the insistent bulge.
Mrs. Phillips blushed crimson. “Dr. Christopher, do you mean where my husband and I touch my body for my pleasure?”
Julius could not believe what he had just heard. “Your husband touches you there? May I ask more details about where?” He sensed he needed to dampen his enthusiasm from the astonished look on her face. “Please do not be insulted. I only inquire as I have never heard any woman state this.”
She shifted in her chair uncomfortably and could not look Julius in the eye. “He places his hand here,” she indicated between her thighs, “and rubs a sensitive spot until I have…” she hesitated, glancing up at him for the briefest of seconds, “spent and am ready for him to take his own satisfaction.”
Good God! “And please, I find this a most unusual activity for husbands, I must ask, how did he come to know this?”
Mrs. Phillips glanced up again, perhaps emboldened by the doctor’s admission of surprise. “He confessed to me that his father arranged for him to visit a woman—a courtesan—for his first time, when he was becoming a man. She taught him.” Mrs. Phillips chuckled. “She taught him a great deal. I will say, Doctor, I am aware that my marriage is somehow different.”
“And your husband taught this to you as well?”
“Yes.”
“So you pleasure yourself, Mrs. Phillips?” Julius tried to steady his breathing.
She seemed a tad breathless herself. “Yes, Dr. Christopher.”
It was the right thing and the wrong thing to say. He could not get the image of the lady stroking herself to orgasm out of his mind.
“Mrs. Phillips, my treatment for a woman complaining of your symptoms would be to release pent-up frustrations with manual stimulation. Are you pleasuring yourself in this manner?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“With what frequency?”
“Every other day, sometimes every day.”
Julius swallowed hard hoping against hope that it would somehow relieve the tension building in his trousers. He tried to remind himself, to no avail, that he was a professional. “Really, that is quite impressive,” he choked out. “I’m not sure what more I can do for you. I am so sorry, Mrs. Phillips.”
She offered her hand upon taking her leave, her fingers cold and trembling even through her gloves, sending shock waves of desire pulsing through him. When she looked at him, her eyes held a touch of despair, a touch of regret and a touch of pleading.
After Mrs. Phillips left, Julius sank into his chair, cradling his head in his hands. The woman missed her husband, the husband who could give her the one thing she could not give herself. Were his theories utterly devoid of merit? Was it true women could only feel ultimate release with male penetration?
Sophia Phillips had just presented to him some most interesting challenges. Women were indeed the more mysterious of the sexes.
* * * * *
When he had gone out on the terrace during the Roxtons’ musicale, Nicholas could not believe the screeching noises he had just fled from were meant to be mating calls to all the available men in the audience. It was a shame Viscount and Lady Roxton had not thought to display other, more obvious talents of their two daughters.
But when he had finally been introduced to the lovely Miss Helena Phillips, it all seemed rather bearable.
He remained on the terrace after she had left, leaning against the railing, turning his hat in his hand, looking out at the garden, thinking of her. How absolutely lovely she was, with her form-fitting dress of orange and olive that set off her hair and eyes perfectly. How wonderfully agreeable she was, their instant rapport indicative of a meeting of minds. How positively interesting she was, being more fascinated than appalled by an erotic novel.
How absolutely unobtainable she was given his recent choice to give up his titled heritage and try to succeed on his own. It was the first time he felt a pang of regret for his decision. But would Helena Phillips be worth the shameful groveling and possible violence he would be subjected to by his brother and father? And even if he did debase himself before Jack and the earl, would they accept him back into the fold?
Besides, he wouldn’t really be the direct heir to his fathe
r anyway, and Miss Phillips was meant to marry someone with a definite claim on a title. Someone, Lavinia had said, like his brother.
Nicholas sighed. He would have to simply content himself with dreaming of gazing into her mossy eyes, running his fingers through her brilliant coppery hair, wrapping his hands around her tightly cinched waist, nibbling on a delicate earlobe. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the warm sun, breathing in her delicate fragrance lingering in his memory.
“Dr. Ramsay, sir. You’re still here.”
Her mellifluous voice drifted from behind him. He turned around perhaps a bit too quickly, hoping the action did not seem overly anxious.
“Yes. My employer generously gave me the afternoon off. I had thought I would enjoy the sunshine and view a bit longer before I returned to my office.”
“So you are a working man.” She seemed slightly disappointed.
“Yes, I am in the professions,” he acknowledged apologetically. “A bit odd for a man like me to be at such an event. But I find myself in similar circumstances as yourself. Apparently, I’m here to find a wife.”
“And have you found one yet?” she teased.
He grinned at her. “I haven’t seen enough talent flaunted in my direction.”
She giggled and colored an alluring shade of pink, then let him gaze into her green eyes probably a bit too long for propriety’s sake. Feeling a touch of discomfiture, Nicholas glanced around the terrace. Except for a few furtive couples, they were quite alone.
“Miss Phillips, aren’t you supposed to be chaperoned? Whatever would Lady Banbury think of you speaking to a strange man?”
“But you aren’t strange. We’ve been introduced.”
“But we are alone,” he reminded her.
She glanced down and bit her lip. “Yes, I suppose we are. Well, not really. I mean, Lady Banbury is only over there.” She pointed across the terrace.
There he saw Lady Banbury lying, probably asleep, on a chaise longue. He chuckled. “Why don’t I escort you nearer your chaperon?” He held out his arm.
She slipped her hand around his elbow. As she had earlier that afternoon, she gripped him as if needing stability, sparking a pang of desire in his core. A moment later, she loosened her hold, the warmth of her touch and her closeness sustaining the excitement within him.
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