Read An Independent Miss Online
Authors: Becca St. John
An Independent Miss (24 page)
She stretched. “Those are deep
discussions for a day such as this,” and curled into him. “But I have an idea.
It’s been growing these past weeks.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He kissed
her nose, but she saw the wariness in his eyes.
“You might approve of this,
actually.” She braced her arms on his chest. “Being married to you helps.”
He sat up, intrigued. “How is
that?”
“Obviously, I can’t work alone, nor
is that my goal, to work in hospitals. And there are good doctors out there…”
“Say it, Felicity. Just say the
words.”
She held her breath, watching his
eyes. And let it all out, words and breath in a rush. “I would like to train
young women to work in convalescent homes for soldiers, and to open more of the
homes. I want to do more to help them. Perhaps match returning soldiers,
especially injured soldiers, with work. It’s been such a dreadful mess with the
men returning to no back pay, no jobs, lack of food! Awful, just awful.”
“You would rather teach than work
in the homes yourself?”
Startled, she looked at him. “I
thought you would forbid me going to those places.”
“No. I would not forbid you though,
admittedly, I’m not comfortable with such things. I do not care to have you in
such a place, but I can’t question your value. I wouldn’t forbid, but I prefer
you have an escort.”
“Really?”
He nodded, hugging her when she
dived into his hold. “If you would be just as happy teaching as carrying out
the work, that would please me better.”
“I would like to teach. Quite
honestly, the practical knowledge is important, but it’s such a distraction
from my studies.”
“There you have it.”
She laughed. “Oh, what a glorious,
glorious day!” She stretched and sighed, wondering how long it had been since
she felt so decadent. “How early do you think it is?”
The rumble of his chuckle tickled
her ear. “It’s not early at all, I just haven’t pulled the drapes.”
She shot up. “Mother expected us
for luncheon!”
He scratched his head, his hair a
tousled mess. “We are already too late for that, or will be by the time we are
ready to leave.”
She looked at him, his charmingly
boyish smile replaced with a mischievous glint. She blushed.
“Here,” he handed her the night
rail from the bottom of the bed. He must have picked it up when he lit the
fire. “I will send a note around to your mother, and tell her we will be late,
even though we are famished.”
“Oh!” She was famished, heard the
rumble of her tummy. She slipped the silk and lace concoction over her head.
“You are right, I am famished, don’t even know if I can wait until we get
there.”
He pulled her over again, whispered
in her ear, causing a riot of sensation. “You’ve been feeding other appetites,
and quite forgot the one for sustenance.”
“Body and soul, my love, body and
soul.”
****
They arrived at the Redmonds’ in
time for a late luncheon, still exceedingly famished.
“We received your note and waited
for you, dear,” her mother explained, as they sat down to eat. “We didn’t want anything
to disturb you.”
“Welcome to the family, Lady
Andover.” Her mother-in-law, the newly formed dowager marchioness, said and
they all laughed.
“I haven’t quite gotten used to the
change,” Felicity admitted. “I never really considered that side of things.”
She blushed. “I mean, that my name would change.”
The dowager marchioness smiled and
patted her hand. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that it has. I only wish my
husband was alive to be here. He would have been so pleased. So pleased.” She
put her hand on Thomas’s arm, to be led into the meal.
Andover helped Felicity into her
seat. “Finally, may I assume you approve of an announcement in the Times?”
Andover asked.
“I don’t know,” Lord Westhaven groused,
from the end of the table. “Can’t trust the Times to publish the damn thing.”
Bea and Upton arrived together, in
time to sit and have a bite while everyone was still at the table. Felicity and
Andover rose to meet them.
“Oh, Felicity!” Bea exclaimed,
rushing to Felicity, hugging her so they both danced in a circle.
“She’s been biting at the bit,
trying to get here earlier,” Lord Upton explained. “We gave up waiting for her
mother.”
Bea brushed that aside. “You have
been too elusive of late! And we didn’t get a chance to speak at your wedding.”
“We will speak later,” Felicity
promised.
“Later when?” Bea wailed. “You’ll be
leaving on your wedding trip and I will be stuck without any idea of what you
have been up to.”
“No doubt she’s been up to things
she shouldn’t have been,” Lady Westhaven warned. “And nothing to discuss at the
table.”
“Speaking of wedding trips…” the
dowager Marchioness spoke up.“In these havey-cavey wedding plans, did you
consider taking your bride anywhere, Andover? Or are you going to limit
yourselves to the social scene of London?”
“Of course I’ve thought of such things.”
Andover turned to Felicity. “But I’ve yet to speak with my wife.” He explained.
“If she had the time, I thought we would travel.”
Felicity sat up. “Travel? Where?”
“Perhaps a tour of the hospitals of
Greece, see if there is any shrine to Hippocrates?”
Chuckling, she shook her head.
“Exploring hospitals can wait until we return. The ones in England will keep me
busy enough. As for the history of medicine, I have my very own personal record
of that.”
“Yes, well, I have been wondering
if you would like to share your very own, personal record of medicine.”
Felicity stilled. “Whatever do you
mean?”
Andover reached into a pocket,
pulled out a sheet of paper. “The way you tote those journals around, there is
always the fear they could be damaged or destroyed.”
With a hint of sarcasm, Lady
Westhaven assured him. “She is very careful with them, Lord Andover.”
He smiled. “I am certain that she
is, but then what if something happened to her. The sharing of these journals has
been a precarious business, counting on one descendant at a time.”
“I don’t understand?” Felicity
admitted.
He handed her the letter. “If you
do not want this done, it will not be, but as you seem the only person alive I
would trust with my life, perhaps it is time others came to have the same
knowledge. Spread the knowledge, so to speak.”
“What is it?” Lord Westhaven asked.
Felicity started to laugh, then
cried, then shouted as she brandished the letter. “My journals are to be
published.”
Andover beamed. “You don’t mind?”
“Mind?” she cried. “
Mind?
Do you know the burden of
responsibility my ancestors have carried with these journals? Do you have any
idea the weight of that? Of course I don’t mind!” She leapt at him and he
caught her to twirl her about.
“But when did you ever see the
journals, how did you know they were Felicity’s? This had to have been done
some time ago,” Bea wondered.
Reluctantly, Andover let Felicity
down, looking to her, as he answered her cousin. “A trail was left, but it was
an outraged apothecary who led me to the writings of a Mrs. Comfrey. Her name
was the first clue, as I knew of Felicity’s fondness for the herb. She tried to
press it on me after a bit of fisticuffs with her brother.”
“Lady Comfrey,” the Dowager
Marchioness repeated. “Yes, a wonderful woman who has given me back the will to
live. But may I make a suggestion?”
“Of course,” Felicity told her.
“I suggest you let the volumes be
published under that lady’s name, and give yourselves the freedom to be who you
are without interruption.”
“Or any more scandals!” Lady
Westhaven applauded.
“Or any more scandals.” Felicity
looked up into her husband’s eyes.
“I don’t know,” he teased. “If not
for scandals who knows where we would be?”
“In each other’s hearts,” Felicity
promised. “We were always meant to be in each other’s heart.”