The Lady in the Tower (8 page)

She replayed
the scene in the treatment room once more. Yes, she had been eager. But who
could blame her? Albert had been circumspect, gentle even, but neither of them
had found much passion, which had seemed to suit them both. She never used to
understand how other married ladies rhapsodized about the marriage bed. For
her, when Albert exercised his conjugal rights, the experience had been mildly
pleasant, but nothing more.

Comparing her
encounters with Albert to Richard’s touch and kisses was like trying to compare
a spring rain to a volcano. The two could not exist in the same thought.

When Richard
touched her, she could do nothing
but
react. How could he hold any of that against her?

Damn the man.
What an utter ass
. She frowned at her reflection, taking in the
lovemark
. Long gone was her headache.

Richard
Thornton might be an ass; but he was also a damn good kisser.

Two days
later, October came to a close, but November heralded an early winter rather
than a continuation of autumn. Leaves that had turned scarlet, orange and gold
were whipped through the streets on frigid winds. Most of society had already
retreated to country homes and estates to weather what had all the appearances
of a harsh winter.

Not so Jane
and her widows’ group. Catherine alone had a winter estate, but for some
reason, she was always loath to repair to it. Jane, Katelyn and Josephine had
only their respective townhomes and apartments. Not that any of this bothered
Jane. She loved her house, had made it truly her own when Albert passed. She
had a loyal staff, a small garden, and all the resources of London at her
disposal.

None of which
aided her at present.
While her friends went to the last few
social events in Town, or out to the theater, Jane remained shackled to her
desk and the looming deadline for her presentation to the medical college.
In an effort to meet her target goal, she had sworn off all social engagements.
Of Richard she’d heard nothing save for a brief communiqué informing her of
Toby’s final recovery and reunion with his very relieved father.

While the news
had assuaged her concern over the boy, the manner in which it had been
delivered left much to be desired. The man was obviously avoiding her; he hadn’t
even dropped by to retrieve his walking stick, which he clearly needed. She
shook her head. He probably had a dozen of the things. Nevertheless, she sent
him a bottle of her liniment oil with express instructions on its use and
frequency. She hoped that, whatever he might think of her, he’d at least have
the sense to follow her prescription.

Determined to
put all thoughts of the cursed man aside, she’d buckled down to finish her
article. Thankfully, her plan had worked, and she’d finally broken through the
last major barrier to her conclusion. All that remained was a few finishing
touches, and she would be ready for presentation.

She’d just
begun to read through it from start to finish when Jennings knocked at the
library door. “Apologies, my lady, I know you said you were not be disturbed,
but Her Grace is here. I showed her to the morning room.”

Jane rose to
her feet. “How nice. I’ll be right there.”

The butler
departed, and Jane paused long enough to tidy her appearance, and loosely wrap
a scarf around her throat where Thornton’s mark had dulled but had not
disappeared. She entered the morning room with a genuine smile. “Catherine, how
nice of you to stop by.”

Though she
proffered her cheek for a kiss, the duchess didn’t smile in return. “I came to
see if you’d died and someone had forgotten to tell us.”

Jane chuckled
and took the seat next to Catherine’s. “Forgive me. I’ve been a bit removed
from the social graces of late.”

Catherine eyed
her speculatively. “We’ve been worried about you, you know.”

“Me? Whatever
for?”

“Locked up in
this house—”

“Well that’s a
bit of an exaggeration.”

“—
cut
off from the world—”

“I hardly
think missing a few outings constitutes being cut off—”

“It’s not like
you, Jane.”

She opened her
mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “I’m sorry I’ve been
uncommunicative, but I
was
working. Fortunately, I’ve finished my
article and will soon rejoin the ranks of the living.”

Catherine
tilted her head and gave her a look Jane could not quite define. “Did you speak
to Richard about the article?”

“No. He
visited, but I didn’t have the chance to bring it up.”

“No?” The
duchess lifted a light blonde brow. “Why not?”

“We, ah, just
never got around to it.”

Catherine
brightened. “Excellent! My dear, do tell what happened?”

Jane had to laugh
and quite against her better sense, everything came gushing out. Her suggestion
for a liniment for his leg, and his agreement to have her try it out on him,
and how that one benign suggestion had somehow ended up with her having the
most passionate, intimate event of her life, only to see him flee from her.

Through it
all, Catherine nodded and murmured encouraging words until finally, when Jane
ran out of things to say, she asked, “What do you want, Jane?”

The question,
so elegantly simple, brought her up short. “What do you mean?”

“I mean
exactly that, my dear: what do you
want
? Are you happy as you are? And I
mean
happy,
not simply content. Do
you think there could be more, perhaps with Richard?”

“I . . . don’t
know.” That was the simple truth.

Catherine
nodded. “It seems you have an opportunity. Don’t waste it. Figure out what you
want and take it.”

“That sounds
so easy, but I don’t even know where to begin.”

“
Zavhreet
kazuh
.”

“What was
that?”

“Nothing,” Catherine
said. “I’m hosting a small party at the end of the week. Nothing fancy, mind
you, just our usual group, a few other friends. I’d like for you to present
your paper to us.”

“What? No one
will want to hear a paper on medical suturing.”

“Of course we
do.” She tilted her head in reflection. “Granted, we laymen might not grasp all
the particulars, but I’m sure that won’t matter. What do you say? It will be
good practice for you.”

Jane couldn’t
deny that. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”

“None whatsoever.”

Despite
herself, Jane laughed. “Well, then, I’d be delighted.”

They discussed
the particulars a bit more, and Jane tried to focus, but instead, rattling
inside her brain was the duchess’s question:
what do you want
?

* * * * *

The summons
arrived in the late afternoon. Richard was more than a little surprised. He’d
expected Her Grace to return to Jane for her physicking rather than call upon
him. Still, one did not leave a duchess waiting.

Sam dropped
him once again at the fashionable address, and he limped to the door, cursing
for the umpteenth time his own stupidity. He’d yet to procure a new walking
stick, and he couldn’t very well call upon Jane to retrieve the one he’d
hastily left behind. Not yet, anyway. Not until he understood his feelings for
her.

After his
perfunctory knock, the door opened and the butler allowed him entrance. As soon
as Richard entered the room, Her Grace stood. “Doctor, thank you so much for
coming.”

Richard bowed,
but could not help his frown of confusion. “Apologies, Your Grace, I thought
you needed to see me.”

“Indeed, I do.
Please, take a seat.” She indicated two chairs before the hearth where a cheery
fire blazed. Beside one of the chairs stood a small wooden table with overly
large shaped cards lying in a pattern across the surface.

He waited for
her to return to her chair before taking his own. “If I may, Your Grace, you
seem perfectly healthy.”

“No surprise
there, since I feel perfectly healthy.”

“Then I’m at a
loss as to what I can do for you.”

“Well, as to
that, you can accept my invitation to a small gathering I’m holding at week’s
end. Ah, Higgins, thank you.” The butler rolled in a tea trolley, parked it
beside the duchess then left just as quietly as he’d entered. “May I offer you
a cup of tea, doctor?”

Richard
accepted the cup she passed to him with thanks, a growing sense of unease
settling over him. “Your Grace, I do not attend social events. I’m a physician
and I have obligations—”

“The primary
reason for this gathering is, in fact, medical.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,
Jane—you remember Lady
Kilkenny
—is to
present a preview of the article she intends to read before the medical
college.”

“You mean
she’s reading her father’s notes. I’ve heard about those lectures. She does
very well.”

The duchess
chuckled. “Ah, newly spoken words of a dead man. Such a rare thing.”

Richard had
his teacup halfway to his mouth, but at this, he lowered it. “Your Grace, are
you suggesting . . . those haven’t been her father’s notes?”

“Every paper
she’s presented has been her own.”

He replaced
the cup in the saucer.
Good God, if anyone were to find out
—
 He
envisioned all sorts of outcomes, each one worse than the last. She would be
openly ridiculed, mocked, and eventually ostracized. It didn’t matter that her
papers and conclusions were excellent; the physicians there – all old men
set in their ways – would feel disrespected and tricked and they would
make sure she felt their disapproval. The thought of Jane being subjected to
that, to becoming the butt of every first-year’s crude joke incensed him. But
then they hadn’t seen how good her surgical skills were,
nor
how effective she could be in a crisis.

Or how she
made little sounds in her throat when she climaxed.

“What do you
think?”

He blinked,
the duchess’s question yanking him back to the present moment. “I beg your
pardon?”

“I said, what
do you think about Jane?”

For a moment,
he wondered if she’d somehow found out just how much he
had
been
thinking about Jane. Usually the images were of her naked in his bed, but not
always. Sometimes she was in his clinic, having her way with him on the
examination table. Other times she was on her knees in his carriage.

“Ah . . . what
do you mean Your Grace?”

“I know that
she’s already helped you with one patient.” The duchess stacked the cards into
a pile. “You, of all people, should not be surprised at her abilities as a
healer.”

“Yes, she was
. . . ” He searched for the right words. Inspiring? Surprising? Both of those
to be sure, but what he settled for was nothing less than the truth. “She was
superb. I wish I’d had her with me on the Continent.”

“You were at
Waterloo?”

He took a
judicious sip of his tea. Quietly, he said, “Weren’t we all?”

“I’m sure it
seemed that way.” She scooped up the cards then handed them out to him. “Would
you mind? Shuffling them, I mean.”

Setting aside
his teacup, he accepted the cards, but they weren’t like any playing cards he’d
ever seen. Some were suits, but not the usual kind. Instead of hearts and
diamonds, there were cups and wands. Instead of jacks and queens, there were
fantastic creatures and symbols.

“They were my
grandmother’s,” she said. “From the old country.”

“Do you have
family still, in this old country?”

A shadow
passed so quickly over her face he wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “No. No family.
What about you?”

“Me neither.
No family.” Odd, he’d never thought much about it before, but saying it aloud
sounded lonely. His parents had passed before he’d graduated from medical
college. He’d had a cousin, but he’d died at Leipzig before Richard had secured
his commission. There was just Sam, his batman from the wars. His home was just
as he liked it, no fussy trappings or bric-a-brac everywhere. He couldn’t help
comparing it to Jane’s home, and how much warmer hers had felt despite its
larger size.

“So, will you
come to my little soiree?”

Before
answering, he fanned the cards idly between his hands. “If you wish. But may I
ask you something?” At her nod, he said, “Are the stories about Jane true?”

She leveled him
with a stark gaze. “You mean the ones in the gossip pages? Ah, those. You must
ask her. I can promise you she’ll answer you truthfully. Then, you may judge
for yourself.”

He returned
the cards to her. “I’ll do that.”

The duchess
fanned the cards and held them out. “Take a card.”