Chapter 16 #2
Dr. Finch stood there, bag in hand. While other guests were formally announced, the footman and butler allowed the doctors to come and go as they pleased, and at the moment, Anne was glad of that.
She smiled to see him. Then her smile fell as another possibility struck her. “Is Robbie all right?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “He’s much better.”
“Oh good.”
“Rosa is with him now and plans to spend most of the night with him, thanks to you.”
“I thought after the day you all had yesterday, time together—and a respite for you—might be appreciated.”
“Indeed. And we are all grateful.”
“Are you here to see Lady Celia?” Anne opened the door wider, although she kept her voice low.
“It’s what I told the footman when I passed. I thought since I had a rare night free, I would pay a visit, see how she is getting on. See you too.”
Anne felt herself flush. “You are very welcome, of course.”
Dr. Finch approached the bed and gently held Lady Celia’s wrist. After counting her pulse against his watch, he asked, “How has she been sleeping?”
“Well. The laudanum helps, I can’t deny. Although I wonder if she needs such a large dose.”
“What has Dr. Marsland said?”
She gave a sheepish smile. “To keep out of it.”
“Her pulse rate is still rather slow. I will talk it over with him.”
“Thank you.”
As they stood side by side near the bed, he took her hand. She drew in a shaky breath. What was he doing?
Then he turned to face her, and his fingers moved up to encircle her wrist. “And how are you feeling?” He tilted his head to one side as he studied her face. “You look as tired as you said Rosa did. All these late nights are talking their toll, I fear.”
“I was feeling perfectly well until you pointed that out.”
“You look lovely, don’t mistake me. Your eyes, though, seem a little weary.”
“I am not surprised. I wake often in the night, at every little sound.”
He gave her a slow grin. “Your pulse, however, is remarkably strong. If a little fast.”
And no wonder, Anne thought, with him all but holding her hand!
He gave her fingers a squeeze before releasing her. “Thank you again for . . . earlier.”
Lady Celia turned her face on the pillow. Without opening her eyes, she grumbled, “If you two are going to flirt shamelessly, have the courtesy to step out into the hall and let an old woman sleep.”
Their gazes flew to each other’s, eyes wide in surprise and chagrin. Biting back a grin, Anne stepped to the door, intending to hold it for him as he left. Instead, he took the woman at her word, picked up his bag, and gestured for Anne to precede him out.
After softly closing the door, the two stood just outside the room, looking at each other.
Dr. Finch’s features were emphasized by the light and shadow cast by the flickering flame of the candle on the small table, deepening the hollows beneath his high cheekbones, the cleft in his chin, the slight protrusion of brow over shadowed eyes, and the jut of his nose.
He took a step toward her. “No wonder you seemed to disapprove of me at times and reacted as you did when I paid you some compliment or attention. You thought I had a child with someone else yet was flirting with you. That really would have been shameful. I apologize for my part in the deception. I hope you have forgiven me, now you know.”
“I have.” Anne thought, and then, made brave by the shadows and the warm way he was looking at her, added, “I admit I was relieved to learn you were not married nor . . . involved . . . with anyone.”
“Were you? May I ask why? Was it only because it meant I wasn’t being unfaithful to someone?”
“No, that was not the only reason.”
He leaned closer. “I am glad to hear it. That gives me reason to hope.”
Anne’s face heated, and she was glad he probably could not see her blush. How forward she must have sounded!
He slowly lifted his free hand, and when she did not step back, he gently stroked her cheek. Pleasure tingled through her.
“You are lovely by candlelight.” His gaze roved her face and then settled on her lips.
He pressed his own lips together before abruptly drawing himself up and retreating a step. “As tempted as I am, I shall restrain myself and treat you with the respect you deserve.”
Disappointment was rapidly followed by admiration, even though at the moment she almost wished he were not quite so principled.
Then she thought of Fanny and Rosa. Their clandestine courtships with Jude Dalby. The stolen moments and stolen kisses. Sneaking around and whispering in the dark, finding ways to be alone as often as possible . . .
Dr. Finch was right. Such things could easily lead to more. To regret. And heartache. Even shame.
As if conjured by her thoughts, Mr. Dalby came around the corner. His eyes glinted knowingly. “Well, well, well. What is happening here?”
Dr. Finch’s grip tightened on his bag. His jaw tensed as well.
Mr. Dalby continued, “I am surprised to find you alone in the dark, Dr. Finch, with an unmarried, unprotected female. Somewhat hypocritical, would you not say?”
“We were just in with your aunt. Nothing happened here.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. And if I learn you’ve said otherwise, I will . . .”
“What? Fail to protect a lady as you failed once before?” Jude smirked.
Dr. Finch’s nostrils flared. “I may have failed once, but I promise you, if you dare lay a finger on either young woman in this house, I will call you out as I should have done before.”
“Scary!” Jude waggled his fingers and gave a faux shudder. He walked to Katherine’s room, knocked, and when she responded, let himself inside.
Fearing Dr. Finch might pursue him and the two come to blows, Anne took his arm. “Come. I will walk you out.”
She placed the goose feather in the lock and led him down the stairs and to the side door.
“Sorry about that,” Anne said quietly. “Mr. Dalby enjoys provoking people.”
“Clearly. Well. Good-night, Miss Loveday. I will hope to see you again soon.”
“I shall look forward to it.”
After Dr. Finch departed, Anne took Louie out a final time, then went down to the kitchen for a glass of milk, hoping it would help her sleep, for she was indeed weary.
She gave Louie a bedtime treat, then poured the milk and helped herself to an iced ginger biscuit from the tin, sitting on a stool at the counter to enjoy both.
Returning upstairs a short while later, she saw Mr. Dalby again, this time quietly exiting his aunt’s room.
“What were you doing in there?” she asked.
“Is it any of your business, nurse, if I wish to visit my aunt, to see how she gets on?”
“She was trying to sleep. Did you not see the feather in the lock?”
He bent and retrieved it from the floor. “This? An effective deterrent to be sure.”
“Did you . . . do something in there? Give her something?”
“My best wishes and nothing more. Wait—do you accuse me? If anyone administered something to my aunt, it would have been you. Or perhaps one of her doctors. Marsland has his own grudge against Lady Celia, for all his obsequious ways.”
“Has he? Then he is not alone. For I heard the two of you arguing. About money and the possibility of revising her will?”
“Did you indeed?”
Anne nodded.
“And has she written this supposed new will?”
Anne shrugged. “I don’t know. That isn’t any of my business. Nor yours.”
He raised his chin. “Have I not the right to know?”
“Your aunt does not think so.”
“Probably only threatened to revise it to keep me in line,” he said, crossing his arms. “Yanking the purse strings has always been one of her favorite tactics.”
“That reminds me,” Anne said. “She told me she did not forbid you to marry Fanny—never even heard you mention her. And she certainly did not threaten to disinherit you over it.”
“Well, she’s threatening to disinherit me now.”
“And I would not blame her.”
“I would.” His green eyes held hers with a malevolent glint. “Take my advice, Miss Loveday, and keep your nose and your goose feather out of things that don’t concern you.”