“We can walk if you like. I always enjoy exercise.” Rayne reached for her bag.
Marcus rapped on the ceiling to stop the carriage. The driver opened the panel and looked down. “Yes, sir?”
“You can stop. We are going to walk the rest of the way. When you arrive at my house just put the carriage away. But we will need it later to return Dr. Stevens to her home.”
“Very good sir.”
As soon as there was a break in traffic, the carriage came to a stop and Marcus opened the door. After stepping out he reached for Rayne’s hand, helped her out, then took the medical bag from her hand.
Edwin allowed the man at the door of the Bath and County Club to assist him out of his coat. It had been a while since he’d visited the place. He used to spend hours and hundreds of pounds in the club, playing cards, drinking, and placing ridiculous bets in the betting book.
He cringed remembering one time after he was well into his cups that he bet Brennan how long it would take for a drop of rain to slide down the windowpane. Such foolishness.
Then, after a few hours of money and time wasted, he and his friends either visited a brothel, a mistress, or performed some outlandish public display of idiocy that invariably ended up in the newspapers.
Now, it all seemed so childish and useless. Had it only been three weeks since the race that ended with him flat on his back and staring up at the most beautiful doctor he’d ever seen in his life?
He felt as though a lifetime had passed. Aside from the one time Brennan and Manchester had visited him in the infirmary and were relieved of their flasks, he hadn’t seen his friends much at all.
Twice they called at his house, but once the fog of alcohol had cleared from his body and brain, he found his innate curiosity and neglected intellect rise again and he began raiding his library for books to read. And not just medical books.
He had his housekeeper remove all the brandy from the house and found the hardest part of being sober all the time was missing the habit of drinking away his guilt over his sister. But then, that was what had started him on his road to destruction three years before.
“Coffee, please,” he said to the footman who approached him with a bottle of brandy in his hand.
“Very good, my lord.” He turned back nary a flicker of surprise in his eyes, which surprised Edwin more.
He was perusing the newspaper and sipping on his coffee when Brennan and Manchester barged through the door and headed straight for him.
“What’s this?” Manchester’s brows were almost hidden by the few strands of hair on his forehead. He waved at Edwin’s coffee cup.
Deciding to face the two men head on, he said, “Coffee. Now my beverage of choice.”
They both waved at the footman to bring them brandy and laughed so hard they were doubled over, pushing at each other like youths barely out of university. Apparently, they had already begun their evening of carousing.
Brennan took a glass from the tray the footman held and poured brandy into it. “Here, you don’t want coffee to rot your stomach.” His smiled faded when Edwin didn’t take the glass and shook his head. “No. Thank you anyway.”
Manchester and Brennan looked at each other with a combination of surprise and anger. “What are you about, Sterling?”
Edwin shrugged. “Nothing. Since I was forced to forego my brandy while in the infirmary, I find I feel much better without it.”
“It’s that sour doctor, isn’t it?” Brennan said and gulped his drink.
His initial annoyance at the men turned to irritation at the slur to Rayne. “She is far from sour. She is a lovely woman dedicated to helping people.”
Again, the two idiots collapsed in laughter. “Next thing I know you will be telling us you’re giving up cards and women.” Manchester’s comment did not come across as amusing as Edwin assumed he wanted it to be. In fact, it appeared his friends felt threatened.
“Is that why you had that butler turn us away when we came twice before?” Brennan slammed his glass down on the table. “Are you feeling righteous? Too good for us?”
The men’s jump from hilarity to anger was surprising. Why hadn’t he noticed before that drinking and carousing was the only basis of their so-called friendship?
“I am merely taking my life in a different direction. I am not condemning you but find it’s time for me to look for other activities.”
“Ah. I get it. You’re tupping the good doctor and want to stay in her favor.” Manchester raised his glass. “Well done. She might be sour, but in the dark one doesn’t have to look at her face.”
Edwin leaned forward, wishing his leg was not still held in a splint so he could jump across the table and take Manchester to the floor with a few good blows to his sneering face. “I am not ‘tupping’ the doctor, and your insults to her will end or despite my broken leg, I will beat you to a pulp.”
“Well, blasted hell, Sterling. You love the woman,” Brennan said.
“I do not.” That was definitely not a place Edwin wished to visit. He might care for her, and before he discovered she was betrothed, wondered if they could ever have a future together, but love? No. Love hurt too much when it was taken away. Although he certainly hadn’t loved his sister the way a man loves a woman he wants to mate with, her death had ripped his heart apart.
“Yes. You do,” they both said in unison.
“Because I respect Dr. Stevens and am grateful for what she did to patch me up doesn’t mean I am in love with her. But now, I find myself bored with the conversation, and I certainly do not want to deprive you of your evening’s entertainment.”
Manchester turned to Brennan. “He just dismissed us.”
“So it seems.” They both stared at him as if he’d just grown another head. “You might say you’re not in love with her, but I suggest you take a second look at yourself.” Manchester downed the rest of his drink and looked over at Brennan. “Let’s leave his lordship’s exalted presence. It’s starting to smell in here.”
Love.
At one time that word directed toward him would scare the breeches off him. Now, it didn’t seem so frightening.
As he watched his two friends leave the club, pushing and shoving each other like two green youths, he recalled the time Carter Westbrooke visited with him after Edwin had insulted Lottie Danvers and the subject of love came up.
“Time to rise, Sterling.” Carter pulled back the drapes, allowing the bright sunlight to flood Edwin’s bedroom.
Westbrooke gripped Edwin’s hair and pulled back so he could see his face. “Time to get up, Sterling.”
Edwin’s eyes opened and he groaned. “You must be a bad dream.”
“No. I am your worst nightmare.” Carter let go and walked to the dresser across the room. He picked up the half-full pitcher of water and dumped it on Edwin’s head.
“What the blasted hell!” He jumped up and shook his head, water splattering in every direction. “Is that you, Westbrooke? What the hell are you doing in my bedchamber? Were you a guest last night? I don’t remember.” He groaned and held his head.
“Yes. It is I, Mr. Carter Westbrooke. I have come to deliver a message to you that I expect will take some repeating before it enters your soused brain.”
“Is this about that whore?”
Carter’s fist flew, connecting with Edwin’s jaw. He went down like a sack of flour.
“That was your second mistake.”
Edwin eyed him from his bed. “Get out of my house.”
Carter rubbed his knuckles. “In case you were wondering what your first mistake was, it was accosting my betrothed on a public street and insulting her with an offer that doesn’t bear repeating.”
“Your betrothed? Are you crazy, man? She’s—”
Carter wrapped his hand around Edwin’s neck and pulled him forward, punching him in his soft middle. “Never. Say. That. Word. Again.”
He doubled over and looked up at him. “Do you know about her mother?” He raised his
hand up. “Don’t hit me again, or everything I drank last night will come up to greet us. I merely want to know if you are familiar with your future wife’s family?”
“I know everything I need to know. But hear this, Sterling. If you so much as utter one single word about my wife, or her mother, or her aunts, sisters, cousins, or ancestors I will come back for you and I can assure you it won’t be pleasant.”
Edwin straightened and stood long enough to collapse on his bed. He regarded Carter with amazement. “You love her.”
“Just remember what I told you. 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?”
“I always thought love would do crazy things to a man, and here stands the proof.” He raised his hand in surrender when Carter took one step toward him. “I agree. 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.”
Carter placed his hands on his hips. “From what I saw downstairs, and the condition you are in, it might do you some good to go to church.”
Yes, indeed. Love would do crazy things to a man. Change one’s lifestyle, perhaps?
Chapter 11
It had been a long, tiring, and grueling night, but at six ten the next morning Miss Daisy Evangeline Mallory entered the world, followed by her sister, Miss Grace Ursula Mallory at six twenty-two. Their mother had been right, and twins were tucked away in her womb in such a way that Rayne was unable to detect the second one, although in truth she wasn’t surprised when baby number two started to make her way out.
Lizbeth was exhausted but smiling as she and Marcus gazed at their daughters with wonder. Two little bundles wrapped in soft blankets laid on the bed in front of them, tufts of dark hair sticking up from the edge of the coverlet.
Rayne was always a tad concerned when she announced the gender of the child—in this case children—to the new father. Some men were extremely displeased at the arrival of a daughter, but Marcus was beside himself with happiness.
Lizbeth and her bedding had been cleaned up, and Addie, Lottie and Pamela, who had arrived shortly after Rayne, were bustling around the room, straightening things up, checking on the nappy supply and giving instructions to the nurse who had arrived the night before.
“As Mrs. Mallory’s doctor, I prescribe sleep for my patient. Lizbeth put in a very hard night’s work and she needs rest.” Rayne spoke specifically to Marcus as she packed her medical bag and looked around the room for anything she might have missed.
“Cook is fixing breakfast for all you ladies, so please avail yourselves of a hot meal before returning to your homes.” Marcus kicked off his boots and settled in alongside his wife. “I will be napping with Lizbeth.”
The nurse, introduced earlier as Mrs. Florence Applegate, took the two precious babies into her arms and made for the door. “Mrs. Mallory, are you using a wet nurse I need to contact?” the nurse asked.
“No.” Lizbeth yawned and shook her head. “Just wake me when the babies grow hungry.” She slid down, resting her head on the pillow.
The nurse, Lottie, Addie, Pamela, and Rayne all headed out of the room. As she quietly closed the door, Rayne looked back to see Marcus enfolding an already-sleeping Lizbeth in his arms, placing her head on his chest. Lizbeth murmured in her sleep and shifted to wrap her arm around his waist. Marcus kissed her forehead and closed his eyes. She’d rarely seen such obvious devotion between a couple and was a bit embarrassed to have witnessed such an intimate moment.
A sense of longing swept over her so strong it almost brought her to her knees. Whatever was that all about? That feeling of yearning had certainly never happened to her before when she delivered a baby.
Perhaps once she and Mr. Faulkner-Jones were married, she might have a child or two herself. That is if he stayed in England long enough to accomplish that. Of course, then images of what they needed to do together to produce offspring popped into her mind.
She shuddered, not quite sure if she could do her wifely duty by him. He was cold, formal, and she didn’t know him very well. Since the betrothal had been tucked away in the back of her mind for years, she hadn’t given the man much thought. Now that he was in Bath, insisting on a quick wedding, she had to ask herself if this was something she wanted to do.
Too tired to give much time and attention to that issue, she followed the other women downstairs to the breakfast room. “Ah, tea. Just the thing after a long night.” She took her seat across from Addie. “Now you are a mother and an aunt. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad Michael and Noah will have cousins to grow up with.” She looked around the table at the women. “And friends, as well, with Pamela’s son Joseph, Lottie’s little Diana, as well as the two little girls upstairs.”
Pamela raised her cup of tea. “Here is to the ever-expanding Merry Misfits of Bath.”
Almost as if it had been planned, three sets of eyes swung toward Rayne, each woman with speculation and deviousness on her face.
“What?” She almost choked on her tea.
“You are next.” Lottie grinned.
Rayne shook her head. “Not me. Well, actually, I guess it will be me.” Why did her spirits drop when she thought of Mr. Faulkner-Jones?
Addie lowered her teacup and began to place food from the platters in the center of the table on her plate. With a certain attempted nonchalance that she didn’t quite pull off, she said, “Why do you guess it will be you? Have you been keeping something from us?”
“I heard that Lord Sterling has been dancing attendance on you,” Pamela added.
“Is that true?” Addie asked.
“Lord Sterling is not ‘dancing attendance’ on me. You all know the story of how he came to be my patient. Once he was able to rise from his bed, he became quite a helper. In fact, one area he has been most useful in is my lack of ability to collect monies due to me from patients. Edwin has taken on that task and has recovered quite a bit of the outstanding debts.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, wanting to pull them back. Therefore, it was no surprise when all the women said at the same time: “Edwin!?”
Rayne sighed. Now it would take forever to get the idea of her and Lord Sterling as a couple out of their minds. “Yes. We are on a first name basis since we’ve been working together. But I will tell you all this. To my knowledge he has not had a drop of spirits since I took his friends’ flasks of brandy away from them.”
“But his reputation.” Addie shook her head.
“Is no matter to me since when I said I might be the next one married, I wasn’t referring to Lord Sterling.”
Forks paused half-way to ladies’ mouths and eyebrows rose in unison. “My, aren’t you full of surprises today,” Pamela said.
She would like more than anything to avoid the story, but they were her friends and they deserved to know. She’d had so few female friends in her life that she didn’t want to lose their bond. “Years ago, my father worked out an arrangement for me to marry. Why, I have no idea.” The story did seem to become stranger each time she told it.
“How very odd. Do you have a fancy for each other?”
Rayne couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at Lottie’s question since she couldn’t imagine anyone having a ‘fancy’ for Mr. Faulkner-Jones.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, Father didn’t tell me about it until the day I left for my medical training. Although it was quite a surprise, with the excitement of beginning my studies, I relegated it to the back of my mind.”
Rayne pushed her empty plate away from her. “I met Mr. Faulkner-Jones probably three times, the most recent time a few days ago.”
Lottie leaned on her elbow, her countenance all excitement. “And?”
Rayne remembered the stiff, cold man who annoyed her
, antagonized Edwin, and was now pushing for a fast wedding so he could return to his work somewhere far away from England.
Most likely he was planning a wed her, bed her, then leave her to her work sort of marriage. At one time when she never thought much about marriage, she might have accepted that. Providing she had her work she would be happy.
But then things changed. Edwin entered her life and for the first time ever, she enjoyed the company of a man. Not the derision and condescending attitude she’d received from her male counterparts at school, or the professors who were even worse. Rayne enjoyed verbal sparring with Edwin, and most of all she enjoyed his arms wrapped around her as they kissed.
“I don’t think we will suit, actually.” She surprised herself by that statement. The thought had apparently been there, but now that she’d given herself time to really contemplate it, she did not want that sort of marriage.
She looked around the table at her friends. They were all happily married. Ecstatic, truth be known. They had husbands who adored them, and now they were starting their families. A loving husband, a warm secure home, and children to raise.
Did she not deserve the same?
Edwin paced—as best he could with a broken leg—in Rayne’s office, awaiting her return. She’d sent word earlier that Mrs. Mallory had safely delivered twin girls and once she and the other ladies who had attended the birth finished breakfast she would be back at the infirmary.
It was time.
He could not allow her to marry that stiff-necked fiancé. Perhaps he was speaking too soon, but he felt as though the timing had been taken away from him once Faulkner-Jones had showed up, staring down his pointed nose at everyone. He knew in his bruised heart that given enough time he would have been on his knees begging for Rayne’s hand.
She was everything a man could want. This man, at least. At first her staunch moral code had annoyed, and then amused him. After his brandy-fogged brain cleared, however, he’d begun to see the woman beneath the doctor.
The Doctor and the Libertine: The Merry Misfits of Bath - Book Five Page 9
