The Doctor and the Libertine: The Merry Misfits of Bath - Book Five

by Hutton, Callie

  “Have I done something wrong, Dr. Stevens?” He looked genuinely confused which irritated her further. Did he do these things so unconsciously that he wasn’t even aware of them? That was why she should ignore everything he said in a flirtatious manner. It meant nothing to him.

  His question should be easy to answer, but she was too flustered to respond like a sane person. “No. You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, you are quite fine. Very fine. I shall shout it from the rooftops.” She stopped when she realized all three patients could hear her. “Lean over,” she growled.

  She removed the old bandages and cleaned each scrape carefully, added healing balm and a new bandage. She saw no sign of infection on any of the cuts and scrapes. Hopefully, the fever was due to his body recovering from the abuse it had taken over the years, compounded by his injuries.

  Unfortunately, his face had healed quickly, which annoyed her since the man was handsome enough with injuries. “I shall send in breakfast shortly.” She gathered her things and headed to the door.

  “Dr. Stevens?”

  She gritted her teeth and walked back to him. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Thank you for your efforts. I am aware of your dislike of me, so I appreciate your attention even more.”

  Oh, lord. She had let her feelings about him show. That was not a thing to do when one was in the healing profession. Each person should be treated with compassion, respect, and dignity. She drew herself up. “I apologize if I’ve made you feel unwelcome but thank you. I appreciate your kind words.”

  He winked again. “Someday I should like to murmur other words. Softly. In your ear.” He lowered his voice. “In the dark.”

  He was laughing at her! She could see it in his eyes. The man was unbearable.

  She turned in a fury and left the room. She should put a large dose of pepper in the man’s porridge! He had better heal fast before she found herself beating him about the head with a heavy object.

  First do no harm. Ha!

  Edwin watched the good doctor storm away from him and studied her with amusement. It was so effortless to rile her. At first, he thought he was doing it to pass the time while he lay in bed. With nothing to drink. No soft willing women alongside him. No card games. Nothing that had made up his life the past few years.

  Then he realized he was enjoying it, looking forward to seeing her and doing his part to unsettle her. He’d even convinced himself that he was most likely doing her a favor. She obviously had no experience with men, even though she had most likely seen more naked male bodies in her studies than he had at Eton.

  She was a pretty little thing. All fire and ice. She was obviously passionate about her work, despite it being such an odd profession for a gently reared woman. That fire could be quickly doused and the chill in the room drop by several degrees when she was displeased.

  And he seemed to be able to displease her so easily.

  However, her blush ever at the ready told him she was not completely unaffected by him and his remarks. She was also the only female in his memory who did not respond to him. Certainly not in the way he would like her to respond.

  He turned his head to stare out the window. He should probably just leave her alone. Get well, leave, and return to his life. Never see Dr. Rayne Stevens again.

  Edwin hated how this short spell with the sour Dr. Stevens made him look closer at his life. He didn’t want to examine his life. That only brought on memories and pain. The brandy masked it. The card games and horse racing and depraved house parties chased it away.

  But the guilt never truly remained hidden. The only time since he’d moved to Bath had he felt anything besides content with his life had been when he’d recognized a well-known London courtesan’s daughter in Bath. He’d insulted her, and then like the scoundrel he was, made her presence known to those who had no need to know.

  Miss Lottie Danvers, now Mrs. Carter Westbrooke was a lovely young lady who had not deserved his derision. To think he had the nerve to criticize her to Carter when the enraged man came to his house in defense of his betrothed. With the lifestyle he engaged in, and his own dissipation that Carter had witnessed that morning, only added to his pile of guilt.

  He had been damned lucky Carter had only delivered a few well-placed punches and an admonition to never again speak of Miss Danvers. He would never forget Westbrooke’s words. If anyone offers an opinion to you about Miss Danvers, or solicits your opinion, you will say nothing except flattering things about her. You are to become her champion. Is that understood?

  Annoyed at being awoken so early in the morning after a night of revelry, Edwin had agreed. I will say nothing disparaging about the lady. If I meet her on the streets, or in a shop, or in church, I will treat her with the utmost respect.

  The memories washed over him. It seemed he was destined to insult and disappoint good young women. Now he guessed he could add Dr. Stevens to the list of women he’d alienated. But nothing would surpass what he’d done to his sister.

  Bugger it. Life was damned unpleasant without the glow of brandy.

  “Up you go, my lord. Dr. Stevens ordered me to bring you outside to the garden for some fresh air.” Walter stood next to Edwin’s bed. The large man looked as though he needed no wheelchair to transport him or anyone else for that matter to wherever Dr. Stevens ordered.

  He was well over six feet tall and probably more than sixteen stone. He’d been in earlier, after Edwin had finished his breakfast to prepare him for the day. He really should have his valet come each day since the man was most likely sitting at home doing nothing except fretting.

  No one shaved him, controlled his wild hair, or dressed him like Albert. It amazed him that he hadn’t thought of that until now. He had become so ingrained in the infirmary’s routine it was like he’d forgotten his real life.

  His real life. That was back in London from where he’d escaped.

  Without more of a warning, Walter scooped him up in his arms as though he were a mere child and deposited him in a wooden chair with a large wheel on either side. Edwin had seen pictures of wheelchairs, but never one closeup.

  It was an interesting contraption. It appeared the wheels were large enough that a person sitting in the chair could push the wheels himself. It might be interesting to have a race with a couple of them.

  “No, you may not race my wheelchair.” Dr. Steven’s words as she stood in the garden, her arms crossed over her chest startled him. Had he spoken out loud?

  She smiled and shook her head. “You did not say it out loud, but I could tell from the expression on your face that you were thinking a race with wheelchairs would be a fine way to break a few more bones.”

  “It is lovely to see you as well, Dr. Stevens.” Since he was sitting and she standing, a situation he rarely found himself in with a woman, he offered her a curt nod.

  “I will take over, Walter. Thank you.” She walked behind the wheelchair and dismissed Walter.

  “I’m afraid I am much too heavy for you to push, Dr. Stevens.” He turned in the chair feeling the humiliation rise in being in such a vulnerable, weak position.

  She waved him off and began to push the contraption across the smooth patio. “Nonsense. In my line of work, I must be able to lift many heavy items.”

  “Including bodies?” He asked.

  She hesitated for a moment. “Yes. I have done my fair share of body lifting.” She sucked in a breath and continued. “Please do not turn that statement into something that will force me to dump you from this chair and leave you here flopping around like a fish out of water.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Dr. Stevens! You have a sense of humor.”

  She sniffed. “Of course, I do.”

  They remained silent until she stopped the wheelchair next to a stone bench. From where they sat, he could see a folly in the garden. Edwin smiled, recalling a few heated and passionate escapades in follies over the years. Dr. Stevens settled on the bench and took a deep breath. “I love the sc
ent of the garden, no matter the time of year.”

  “This is a well-kept garden. I assume with all you have to do you employ a gardener?”

  Dr. Stevens inhaled deeply, a pleasant smile lighting up her face.

  She was truly a lovely looking woman. She’d obviously fixed her light brown hair with golden highlights into some sort of a topknot or chignon, but wisps of hair and springy curls had fought their way out and surrounded her face.

  A beautiful face with clear blue eyes, well-arched dark eyebrows and lips that were made for kissing. When she smiled, it all came together to entice the viewer.

  “I do,” she answered. “But I also grow all my own herbs for medicinal purposes. It is what I do, actually, to relax myself and deal with the stress.”

  She held up her hand in warning but did smile. “Don’t say that, please.”

  He placed his hand on his heart. “What? Surely you don’t think your statement would result in an improper response from me?”

  She tilted her head at him and smirked. “No. Of course I never thought that. Imagine.”

  He was enjoying this time with the doctor. Apparently, there was a soft part to her. Although being a doctor she would have to deal with situations that required a lot of compassion. How well she had treated his injuries even though she plainly disliked him was a fine example.

  Plainly disliked him.

  Now that thought hurt.

  Chapter 5

  It was the beginning of the tenth day of Lord Sterling’s stay at her infirmary, and she had decided ‘twould be his last.

  His cuts and scratches had healed well, his wrist was working, and his ribs no longer required wrapping. Rayne had gotten him a sturdy cane that he used to get around while still in the cast. She found his initial reaction to the cane comical. At first, he refused to use it, saying it was for old men.

  Then when she suggested he remain in the wheelchair until his leg was completely healed, he decided to give the cane another go. He would have trouble maneuvering stairs, but with the number of servants he most likely employed, she was sure he would be fine.

  Somewhere along the line they had called a truce. He no longer baited her continuously, and the few times he did, she laughed, rather than scolding him. She was a bit annoyed with herself to find her opinion of him was changing.

  Underneath that very improper man was one of intelligence, caring and kindness. The longer she knew him, the more she was certain that something had happened in his life to turn him toward self-destruction.

  “Dr. Stevens, if you have the time to spare today, perhaps we can take a stroll in the garden.” Sterling sat on the edge of the bed he’d occupied for ten days, looking fit and hardy. His valet had begun arriving each morning to prepare him for the day, doing a much better job that Walter had.

  Randolph was a middle-aged man, paunchy in the middle with thinning hair atop his head. He was a cheerful sort, respectful of her, and devoted to his employer.

  “Yes. I believe I will have time today for a bit of exercise in the garden. When is your driver expected to escort you home?” A little twinge of sorrow nudged at her insides. Once they’d gotten past their mutual antagonism, they had developed a fair friendship of sorts. Being quite adept at numbers, Lord Sterling had surprisingly taken over her books.

  He’d learned that there were patients—many of them with means—who had not paid for her services. Plus, he was certain some of the people she dealt with for food, medicines, and other supplies were cheating her.

  “Why don’t you pay closer attention to these things?” he’d asked the first time she allowed him to look at her books. “You’re working incredible hours and you’re being robbed.” He’d been requesting for a way to help her since he stated she was very busy while he had nothing to do but stare at his leg all day.

  “I’m afraid I’m one of those people who trusts that the people I do business with are honest.”

  “Like you,” he added with a soft smile.

  “Well, yes. I mean, why would they cheat me?”

  “Because that’s the way some people do business. And what about all these patients who have not paid you?”

  She leaned over his shoulder and looked at the long list of debtors. “That many?”

  He turned and studied her with something between annoyance and humor. “Yes, Dr. Stevens. That many.”

  He had then begun his campaign—from his sickbed—to correspond with those who owed her, and those who cheated her.

  Yes. She would miss him.

  “Randolph told him to arrive about three this afternoon,” Sterling said in answer to her question.

  “I see.” How foolish she was becoming in her sadness at the man leaving. She now had three children with measles in her infirmary whose parents stopped in at least once a day. But aside from that contact, Walter and Lord Sterling had been her only constant companions.

  She’d always been alone, with just Walter since she took over her father’s medical practice, but having Sterling here, teasing her, offering suggestions and otherwise making her day more pleasant had done just that. Made her day more pleasant.

  “Then I suggest we take our walk in the garden after luncheon. That will give me time to—”

  A loud banging on her front door brought her words to an abrupt halt. Instead of waiting for Walter to reach the newly-locked-all-the-time front door, she hurried there herself.

  A dirty, unshaved man stood on her doorstep holding a girl of no more than five years. Blood dripped from her body and parts of her worn dress were torn and bore signs of a carriage wheel.

  “Bring her in here.” Rayne stepped back and allowed the man to enter, then led him to the infirmary.

  Sterling stood, leaning on his cane, watching.

  “What happened to her?” Rayne motioned to the table she used for examinations.

  “Got 'it wiv a carriage, she did.” He shifted his feet back and forth, looking as though he was ready to escape.

  “Is she your daughter?”

  “Nah. She’s wahn of them Itch And Scratch sellers. I clock 'er every day. Don’t kna 'oo she belongs ter, but I couldn’t leef 'er in the field of wheat. The carriage never stopped.” He didn’t look at all surprised at the young girl being treated in such a horrible manner. Life on the streets was hard and cruel.

  Lips tight, Rayne nodded at him. “Thank you for bringing her in. If you would like some food, his lordship will direct you to the kitchen. I believe there is some cold meat from last night, as well as fresh bread we just bought this morning.” She nodded at Sterling who stood watching the scene.

  “I wouldn't mind a bit ter eat. Thank yer.” He crumbled his worn cap in his hand and eyed Sterling warily.

  If Sterling had been surprised at her ordering him to direct the man to the kitchen like a servant, it never showed. Instead, he waved the man to the doorway and followed him out. “This way, my man.”

  Tears formed in her eyes when she looked at the little girl. She obviously did not get enough to eat, and from the dirt caked on her body, was not bathed in any sort of regular manner.

  Her blond curls were matted with dirt and her face bore the marks of hitting the ground. Gently, Rayne used her scissors to cut the girl’s ragged dress off. She wore nothing underneath.

  She quickly made an assessment of her injuries. Since the girl was unconscious, she assumed she’d been knocked out by the accident. She cringed when she looked at the poor waif without her dress. Some of the bruises on her body were old ones. She’d been subjected to beatings.

  Lord Sterling returned to the room, hobbling along. “Our visitor decided to take the food with him. I can’t help but think he wanted to share it with others.”

  “Look at this poor child!” Rayne’s voice shook.

  Sterling’s lips tightened. “There is a special place in hell for those who mistreat defenseless children and animals.”

  “I agree.” She lifted the girl up and whipped the dress out from under her. T
hen she took a blanket and placed it over the small body.

  “What can I do to help?”

  If the good doctor had been surprised by his offer of help, she didn’t show it, which made Edwin feel good. Over the past few days, they had worked together, and he never felt so useful in his life.

  Before the disaster with his sister in London, he hadn’t done much of anything to fill his days, just keeping track of his investment, which is man of business handled for him. Since then all he’d done was drink, gamble and wench. It felt good to be doing something for others, not himself.

  He remembered shaking his head when he looked over Dr. Steven’s books. They were a mess. She might be a brilliant doctor—which he believed she was—but she was no businessman.

  “If you will just stay by her side while I gather the things I need to treat her that would be quite helpful.” She ran her finger down the girl’s cheek and then moved away.

  Edwin stared down at the child. She was lovely, undernourished and neglected as well as abused. She could be no more than five years and she was out in the streets selling matchsticks.

  The girl should be better fed, better clothed and in school. Life was hard for so many and yet there were those who had much more than they need.

  Me.

  He shook off the guilt as Dr. Stevens arrived at his side. “She is a beautiful child, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. But even ugly children should not be treated like this.”

  Dr. Stevens looked at him, her brows raised. “I agree.” She dipped a linen cloth into a pan of warm, soapy water and began to wash the girl off.

  Edwin reached out and took the cloth from her. “Here, let me do that while you begin to treat her injuries.”

  What the devil was he doing? Here he was member of the ton, a peer, and he was washing the filthy body of a street urchin? My how the mighty have fallen. The Bible verse popped into his head. Bibles, church, and living a good, respectable life was far behind him. Too far to return.

  But was it?