A Lady of Persuasion (12 page)

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sympathy would imply understanding, and I’ve never understood why women are labeled the weaker sex. In my observation, males suffer the condition of helplessness with far less courage than females suffer pain.”

Her grip tightened on a small black valise. “As for me, I do not suffer ignorance. I came here to attend Miss Grayson. I assure you, I have the training and experience to provide her with excellent care, despite the efforts of some”—she shot a look at Toby—“to limit me, simply because of physical characteristics given me at birth.” Her eyes flashed as she turned to Joss.

“One would think
you’d
have some sympathy.”

Well.

Joss inhaled slowly, considering. This Miss Osborne was either an impolitic fool or an example of cleverness. A physician, did she call herself? In a minute’s time, she’d managed sharp pokes to both of his raw, open wounds—his lingering grief over Mara’s death, and his frustration with the restrictions that accompanied his mixed parentage and illegitimacy. For a purported healer, she was a real pain.

Now she had the temerity to suggest he should reward her acid nature, endorse her abilities just because they shared this tenuous link of skirting social convention. As if it made them allies.

He could not deny her access to Bel, Miss Osborne’s gaze insisted, without impugning his own intelligence.

His alternative, of course, would be to deny her skills as a physician and turn her away—

thereby siding with Toby. Joss suppressed a growl of annoyance. It was a devil’s bargain, either way.

Miss Osborne knew it, too. As they stared one another down, her thin eyebrows arched with anticipation. Oh, she was clever. The woman was no fool.

“Very well.” Joss made a dismissive bow. “Mrs. Prewitt will show you to my sister’s chambers.” Damned if he’d do it himself.

“Thank you.” Lucy smiled, in an obvious effort to dispel the tension. Watching Miss Osborne ascend the stairs, she whispered, “Please don’t mind Hetta. She rather delights in being shocking.”

“I understand, Lady Kendall.” As Lucy followed her friend above-stairs, Joss turned back to his study. Miss Osborne did not know her good fortune, to be able to choose the occasions on which she gave offense. People found Joss shocking as a matter of course, whether he delighted in it or not.

Toby’s smooth voice stopped him halfway down the corridor. “I can’t believe you’re permitting this.”

Joss sighed. Would the man never leave?

Toby continued, “And here I thought you were the intelligent brother.”

“And here I thought you were smooth with ladies. You didn’t display any of that reputed charm with Miss Osborne. After the way you insulted her, I could scarcely turn her away.

Poorly done, Aldridge.”

“Oh, leave off.” Toby lowered his voice as he closed the distance between them. “If a dead wife entitles you to become a full-time prick, I should think an invalid betrothed earns me a moment of incivility. If Isabel’s condition fails to improve—or God forbid, worsens—I will send for my doctor immediately, and you will have hell to pay.”

Joss stared at him. He’d never heard that tone from the man before. What a day this was.

Mangled contracts, tipped inkwells, female doctors … and now this insufferable ass began to demand his respect. Worse, Joss felt compelled to give it. “Agreed.”

“Good. Now agree to let me see her.”

“I would let you see her.
If
—” Toby was three risers up the stairs before that “if” halted him mid-step. “If she wished it. But she doesn’t.”

“What do you mean, she doesn’t? I’m going to be her husband in three weeks.”

“She’s not your wife yet. For now, she’s just my sister. And my sister doesn’t want to see you.”

“There you are. At last.”

Bel looked up from her reading. Toby stood at the entrance to her private sitting room, holding a parcel under one arm and stealing the thoughts straight from her mind.

There he was. At last
.

She wished she could stand to greet him, but her head was spinning. Throughout her illness, she’d suffered bouts of dizziness. Spying his dashing figure in the doorway only made matters worse. Perhaps she shouldn’t have agreed to see him so soon, but she’d been putting him off for more than a week now.

She laid aside the newspaper, forcing her lips into a tight smile. Oh, how she longed for him to turn away, so she might pinch a blush to her cheeks. Maybe she could manage the appearance of better health, if not the corresponding strength.

But she could tell, Toby was having none of it. “How pale you are,” he said, placing his parcel on the table and sinking onto the divan next to her. He made an impetuous motion as though he would embrace her, then seemed to think better of it. Bel didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed.

He asked, “Do you know how sick I’ve been with worry? I’ve come by the house every day, you know. Why wouldn’t you allow me to see you?”

Warm brown eyes scanned her appearance. Bel felt his gaze catching on the dark circles beneath her eyes, the sallow tone of her cheeks, the dull texture of her hair. She must be hideous, and of course he looked as suave and handsome as ever.

“How could I have allowed you? It isn’t proper.” She fidgeted with the handkerchief in her lap, picking at the tatted edge. It wasn’t quite a lie; just an incomplete truth. She couldn’t very well tell him honestly,
I couldn’t let you see me until I felt completely assured of my sanity
. She’d spent days floating in and out of feverish dreams, terrified that, like her mother, she would never fully return from them. Even once the fever left her, she’d lain awake in bed all night, scouring the darkest corners of her mind for any flitting moths of madness.

“If you’d visited, it would only have caused you distress,” she said feebly. “Even now, I must look so ill.” She put one hand to her temple, shielding her face.

He ducked, peering under it. “Isabel, listen to me. We are to be married in a couple of weeks.

I’m going to stand before all London, the Holy Trinity, and even those two boorish brothers of yours and pledge you my undying fidelity and protection. In sickness and in health.” He pulled her hand away from her face, folding his fingers around hers. “And with God as my witness, I will vow to you right now—you are the most beautiful sight I’ve beheld in ten days.”

She couldn’t decide whether he was teasing her or deceiving her. But then, she didn’t really want to know. “I’ve missed you,” she said quietly. That was the simple truth.

“I’m glad of it.” He smiled. “Miss Osborne tells me you’ve made nearly a full recovery.”

“Yes, my fever is completely gone. I’m just a bit weak yet.”

“But you’re not taking enough food, she says.”

“It’s … it’s still painful to eat,” she said. “My throat…” She feigned a little cough, in lieu of completing the sentence.

“Isabel, you must make an effort to regain your strength. I’ve just spoken to your brother. He’s suggesting we postpone the wedding.”

“Oh, he mustn’t! I won’t let him.” Bel gripped his hand. “I’m feeling much improved already.”

This, too, was the truth. Perhaps she had been wrong to keep him away so long. There was something about the way he looked at her, with that shadow of a smile in his eyes, that made her feel restored. His teasing infuriated her at times, but she was beginning to understand it as a strange sort of compliment to her character. While bullies teased to belittle and hurt, Toby’s good-natured jibes had quite the opposite effect. He teased not out of malice, but because he believed she was strong enough to bear it.

And thus far, he had always been right.

She gave his fingers a little squeeze. “The wedding must go on as planned.”

Relief was plain in the relaxation of his shoulders. He added his free hand to the tangle of their fingers, surrounding hers with his strong, warm touch. “Good. To that end, I’ve brought you some medicine.” Releasing her, he reached for the parcel he’d brought.

“Medicine? But Miss Osborne has already dosed me with—”

“This is a different sort of medicine. One you’re sure to enjoy.” A sly gleam stole into his eyes as he opened the package and withdrew a chilled glass dish mounded with a nut-brown ice.

“The flavor is chocolate. Blended with hazelnut and, I’m told, a hint of cinnamon.”

“Toby, really …”

“I insist.” He pressed a spoon into her hand. “If it pains you to eat solid food, you must take what you can. An ice is the perfect remedy for a sore throat. The coolness is a balm; the sweetness is a restorative.” He gave her a wicked smile. “And everyone knows chocolate to be invigorating.”

Bel could already feel her resistance melting. The glistening ice looked so cool, so inviting. Her raw throat worked as she imagined taking just one spoonful of chilled, soothing sweetness.

“I… I couldn’t possibly.”

“Is it the sugar that concerns you?”

She nodded, hoping he would take pity on her conscience and quickly pack the dish away.

He pressed it closer, taking the spoon from her hand and scooping up a bite of the ice. “Isabel, don’t be concerned. I ordered this ice specially made for you. It’s sweetened with honey.”

“Honey?”

“Yes, pure English honey, collected from very contented bees. I interviewed the beekeeper myself, and he assured me the drones were treated most fairly, paid an honest wage, and given the Sabbath to rest. And now that they’ve done their service, I’ve arranged for the whole hive to be pensioned off to a charming little beech grove in Shropshire, right next to a meadow abundant with clover. So you see,” he said, moving the spoon toward her lips, “you may partake of this ice in good conscience.”

Bel giggled. For heaven’s sake, she
never
giggled. With those smooth arguments and that persuasive grin, he was bound to be a terrific success in Parliament. “You are teasing me. Most shamelessly.”

“Yes. And you’re enjoying it.” Leaning closer, he lifted the spoon to her mouth. “Really, Isabel. You must eat. You must get well, if we are to marry as planned, and …” His voice took on a sudden, thrilling intensity. “And I don’t wish to delay.”

She closed her eyes. If she were truly strong, she would find it in herself to push the temptation away. But she was ill and weak, and though she knew in her conscience she shouldn’t give in

…

She did.

Her lips closed around the chilled spoon, and she drew on it with light suction, pulling the frozen confection into her mouth.

Oh
.

Oh, paradise
.

At first, the cold burned her lips and tongue, and the ice crystals abraded her palate like small slivers of glass. But then the sharp edges melted to cream, and each tiny excoriation was now soothed, with exquisite coolness and a dark, bittersweet spice.

Swallowing, she opened her eyes to find him offering her a second spoonful. This bite she accepted with eyes wide open, held rapt by his warm, amber-flecked gaze as the oscillation of sharp pain and rich pleasure teased her senses again.

“Do you like it?” he asked, slowly retracting the spoon from between her pursed lips.

Did she?
Bel licked her lips, considering. She couldn’t describe the sensation as wholly pleasant, but she knew one thing. “I want more.”

He gave a hoarse chuckle—a sound more throaty and raw than his usual laugh. As he lifted another bite to her lips, Bel watched his dark pupils widening with anticipation, his full lips parting in unison with hers. He seemed to experience the same sweet torture she did, as the burning cold flooded her mouth. Once again, he dragged the spoon from between her lips. And for some unknown, wicked reason, Bel found herself pursing them tighter in defiance. As if to tease.

She licked her lips again, slowly, taking joy in the way his gaze riveted to her mouth. Yes, she felt strong when he teased her, but teasing him back … this was
power
. The sensation rushed through the top of her head, like cold.

When he spoke, his voice was husky. “May I taste?”

“Yes,” she blurted out. How thoughtless she’d been, not to offer before he could ask. “Yes, of course.”

Instead of dipping the spoon again, however, Toby set the dish aside. And before Bel even knew what was happening, his hands were framing her jaw, angling her face to his. And then his body was flush against hers, his lips covering hers, and his tongue … His tongue was
inside
her mouth, teasing hers. Tasting.

Shocked, Bel closed her eyes. This felt so good, it had to be wrong. She ought to push this temptation away. She shouldn’t give in.