Read My Favorite Countess Online
Authors: Vanessa Kelly
My Favorite Countess (27 page)
She pressed her hands against her stomach, sick with self-loathing.
“I tried to explain that to Reggie, but he wouldn't listen. He agreed with my father's belief that any knowledge of Rachel's existence would reflect poorly on me. Besides, everyone thought she had been dead for years. Can you imagine the scandal when it was revealed she was not? No. Reggie agreed to pay the bills for her upkeep, but that was all.”
John frowned thoughtfully, his hands absently stroking over her shoulders and arms. After several moments of silent contemplation, he nodded.
“That's how he controlled you, wasn't it? He used your sister against you.”
She met his gaze. “Yes. Whenever I refused to obey him, he would threaten to remove her from the only home she remembersâone where she is lovedâand put her in an asylum for the insane.”
John's eyes turned hard as flint. “What a shame Lord Randolph didn't meet with his fatal carriage accident before he met you.”
She shrugged. “I don't know if he would ever have done that to Rachel, but I couldn't take the risk. And,” she added, with another surge of self-loathing, “after a while I talked myself into agreeing with him. I dreaded the scandal almost as much as he did.”
His hands dropped from her arms. What else could she expect? After all, when it came to this she was little better than her monster of a husband.
“Still want to marry me?” she asked cynically.
He huffed out an impatient breath and drew her back across the room to the bed.
“I don't know why I have to keep repeating myself, Bathsheba, but none of this is your fault. Your father and your husband were to blame, not you. You were simply trying to survive, and take care of your sister as best you could. And yes. Of course I still want to marry you.”
Her vision blurred, but she sternly blinked the tears away.
“That's very kind of you, John. But no.”
He tilted his head, looking puzzled. “Why not? Do you have other family members hidden away that you haven't told me about?”
She glared. “Of course not!”
“Then what the devil is the matter now?”
“Haven't you been listening? I'm responsible for Rachel's care, and it's not exactly cheap. And,” she said defiantly, “I don't want to be poor. You may laugh at me all you like, but my father was the definition of impecunious gentility, which was why he was so happy when Reggie offered to marry me. No one else wouldâI had no dowry. Call me whatever names you want, but I refuse to spend the rest of my days outrunning the constable. I've had quite enough of that to last me a lifetime.”
John rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. “Bathsheba, don't be such a goose. I'm not poor.”
“Well, you're not rich,” she retorted.
“No, but I will be. My practice is growing, and I've made a number of investments that will eventually yield a considerable profit. And may I remind you, my arrogant countess, that I come from as good a family as you. My relations may be country gentry, but they're exceedingly well-off. In addition,” he said, looking very haughty, “my mother's paternal grandfather is an earl. I believe that gives me a pedigree every bit as elevated as yours.”
Bathsheba couldn't help it. She burst into laughter, suddenly realizing how ridiculous it was to be comparing family pedigrees, naked in the middle of the night.
“I beg your forgiveness, dear sir. It was not my intention to insult your family.”
His lips twitched, and he gave her a reluctant grin.
“So, does that mean you'll marry me?”
She sighed. “I don't know. My head is spinning, and I'm too exhausted to make any decisions tonight.”
“Will you at least consider it?”
“Y-yes, I'll consider it. But under one condition.”
“And that is?”
“That we keep our relationship a secret.”
He started to protest, but she held up a hand to silence him.
“I'm not saying that we can't be seen together in public, but you mustn't give any indication that anything exists between us but friendship. What we do in private is another matter, but I will not countenance rumors or speculation that you're courting me.”
He gave her a sardonic smile. “Hedging your bets, are we?”
She winced, but didn't bother to deny it. There was simply too much at stake to push caution aside, especially for the sake of passion. If there was something else between them . . . well, she wasn't ready yet to acknowledge that.
He sighed. “Never mind. I don't expect you to change overnight. Trust takes time to develop, and I'm willing to give you that time. But I insist you agree to a condition of mine in return.”
“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.
“That you keep Roston and any other man who wants to court you at a respectable distance. I won't be held accountable for my actions if you play the flirt.”
That made her smile. “John, surely you can't be jealous of so mild a creature as Sir David.”
He walked her backward and tipped her onto the bed, pinning her to the mattress with his long legs. His eyes smoldered as he gazed down at her.
“I'm jealous of anyone who could take you away from me, as you may well find out.”
Her heart melted into a gooey puddle. “Then I will take care to ensure you have no reason to doubt me,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He gently scissored her legs open and settled between her thighs.
“Bathsheba, I'm going to make love to you again,” he said, “whether you like it or not. And this time, I will not be rushed.”
“Why, my dear sir,” she murmured, shivering with pleasure as he began to nuzzle the tender skin of her neck, “you know I always follow doctor's orders.”
Chapter 20
John glanced up at the speaker behind the high podium, then transferred his gaze to Bathsheba. Seated next to him on the bench, she was still looking vaguely queasy. That didn't surprise him, given the subject matter of Dr. Taverner's lecture to the Royal Society. For the most part, the talk had been unexceptional, consisting of observations on the treatment of consumptive diseases in pregnant women.
Much to John's surprise, Bathsheba had seemed almost as interested in the lecture as he was. Throughout the talk, he had stolen glances her way, distracted as much by her entrancing face as by her unflagging attention to a weighty scientific presentation. And he would have noticed if she had grown bored. After spending so much time with her these last two weeks, John had become highly attuned to her feelings. As each day passed, the emotional connection between them grew ever stronger.
He applauded absently as the lecture came to an end, still keeping one eye on Bathsheba. Sure enough, after a wary glance to see if anyone was watching, she removed a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her perspiring forehead.
Not that he could blame her. The last bit of Taverner's lecture had been gruesome, even by John's standards.
Now that the presentation was over, most of the audience came to their feet. A cheerful din arose as both scientists and amateurs launched into vociferous arguments, exchanged greetings and gossip, or simply made their noisy way to the staircase leading down to the vestibule of Somerset House.
Bathsheba, however, remained seated, as if not yet ready to test out her legs.
“Too much for you, my lady?” John asked sympathetically, peering under the brim of her high-poke bonnet to get a better look at her face.
She gave a weak smile. “It was fine until the end, but that last bit was ghastly. If I had known what was coming, I would have chosen the exhibit at the Royal Academy.”
Sarah Ormond, seated on the other side of Bathsheba, broke off her conversation with James Wardrop.
“Well, Dr. Blackmore,” Sarah said. “If this is what you and Dr. Wardrop consider an afternoon's entertainment, I'll have to succumb to a migraine the next time Bathsheba asks me to accompany her.”
Bathsheba huffed at her friend. “Sarah! How can you have the nerve to blame Dr. Blackmore? It was you who suggested a lecture at the Royal Society when I asked for your opinion on what to do this afternoon.”
“Well,” Sarah replied archly, “
you
were very anxious to find a diversion that Dr. Blackmore would enjoy, and this seemed just the ticket. Or at least Mr. Ormond thought so when I asked for his advice. Don't blame me if it's all gone tragically awry.”
you
were very anxious to find a diversion that Dr. Blackmore would enjoy, and this seemed just the ticket. Or at least Mr. Ormond thought so when I asked for his advice. Don't blame me if it's all gone tragically awry.”
Bathsheba flushed and looked annoyed, but before she could raise any objections Wardrop chimed in.
“Certainly not, Mrs. Ormond. A lady of your delicate sensibilities and refined nature couldn't help but be shocked by Dr. Taverner's lecture,” he intoned soulfully.
John almost groaned. His colleague, an accomplished flirt, had jumped at the invitation to spend the afternoon with two of London's most famous beautiesâeven if it was at a scientific lecture. But at least the group outing gave John the excuse to spend time with Bathshebaâoutside the bedroom, that is.
“Never thought Taverner had it in him,” Wardrop continued, warming to the topic. “To describe something so monstrous in front of ladies . . . not done. Really, Blackmore. You should have known better.” He widened his eyes in mock horror, even though he was clearly trying not to laugh.
After giving his friend a warning frown, John returned his attention to Bathsheba.
“I'm sorry if you found the subject matter disturbing, my lady, but it's not often one has the opportunity to hear accounts of such dramatic mistakes in the natural order of things. Dr. Taverner is exceedingly fortunate to have a correspondent in India who can bring such unusual cases to his attention. He should have given some warning, however, before reading out the letter from the Reverend Clarke. It was clearly not part of his regular lecture.”
“Yes, he should have,” cried Sarah. “I couldn't believe the description, and Dr. Taverner read it out so calmly. A baby born with two heads, four arms and four legs, andâ”
“Please, Sarah,” groaned Bathsheba, “once was quite enough, thank you.”
“Of course it was, Lady Randolph,” soothed Wardrop. “Consider the matter closed.” With an elegant flourish, he helped Sarah to her feet.
Bathsheba remained seated, ignoring the other couple. “I can't help thinking about the poor mother,” she murmured. “Can you imagine her terror when she first saw her own child? How full of guilt she must have felt?”
John drew her to her feet, touched, as always, by the tender heart she hid beneath her polished exterior. “One can only feel sympathy for the poor woman.”
She sighed. “You must think me very foolish for letting it affect me so greatly.”
“No one would ever call you foolish, my lady.”
He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze as he steered her to the aisle. As usual, he was caught off guard by his urgent need to protect her, and frustrated by his inability to do so in public. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to maintain the charade of casual friendship she insisted was necessary.
“Blackmore.” Wardop spoke over his shoulder. “I suggest we leave our scientific endeavors behind and repair to Gunter's for refreshment. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm parched.”
Sarah didn't answer, lifting an enquiring eyebrow as she waited for Bathsheba's approval.
“That is, of course,” said Wardrop, obviously noting the silent exchange, “if the beautiful ladies can lower themselves to tolerate the company of two feckless and impecunious physicians.”
Sarah gave a ladylike snort. “Impecunious, indeed! What a tease you are, Dr. Wardrop. I have it on good authority that Sir William Knighton, for instance, makes at least ten thousand pounds a year.”
John had to bite back a laugh as Bathsheba's mouth dropped open. Apparently, she hadn't yet realized how rich some of his colleagues actually were.
They weaved their way through the knot of people at the top of the staircase. The going was slow, but a few minutes later they were strolling through the imposing vestibule of Somerset House toward the entrance leading out to the Strand.
Before they could exit, they were forced to pause behind a cluster of chattering matrons who had just emerged from a meeting of the Antiquarian Society. They jostled Bathsheba against him and her soft, full bosom pressed into his arm. Desire curved through him from the point of contact, and he had to push back the overwhelming urge to drag her behind one of the huge marble columns and take her sweet mouth in a ravishing kiss.
He clenched his jaw to hold back the hot rush of lust. He would go mad if he had to play this secret game much longer. A few dinners at the Ormonds', the occasional waltz at a ballâeven the late nights spent in delicious lovemaking at her town house on Curzon Streetâit no longer satisfied. In fact, it had the opposite effect. It stoked the flames and fired every possessive impulse in his body.
John no longer doubted he wanted to marry her. Very few really knew the woman she was, and he took savage pride in realizing only he had seen past all her feintsâher troubled past and present fearsâto claim the prize within. Yes, she possessed a keen intellect and wit. More importantly, she had bone-deep integrity, and was the most loyal woman he had ever met. Add to that her lush beauty and sensual nature and any man would have to be insane not to want her as his wife. God knew she had her faults, but so did he.
Bathsheba glanced up at him, looking puzzled and slightly anxious. He suddenly realized the crowd had cleared away and Wardrop and Sarah had already passed through the doors of Somerset House out to the Strand. Yet John stood nailed to the spot, staring down at Bathsheba with an intensity that would surely rouse the curiosity of anyone who happened to look their way.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Lady Randolph. I seem to be woolgathering. I was just reviewing a few of Dr. Taverner's points in my mind.”
The tension on her features eased into a grateful smile. It usually pleased him to comfort her, but right now he couldn't help feeling annoyed she so obviously feared public exposure of their relationship.
“I'm not surprised,” she responded eagerly. “I, too, found the lecture fascinating. Did you hear anything today that will benefit your own patients?”
He smiled reluctantly, struck once again by her unexpected interest in his work.
“Certainly. Dr. Taverner's techniques can be applied to any pregnant woman, but they are critical to the care of those who suffer from malnourishment and disease. I can only guess how many women could be saved if they had a nourishing diet and received good doctoring instead of being shunted off to crowded lying-in hospitals or left to die in the squalor of the stews.”
A hostile voice interrupted them from behind.
“Spouting your radical views again, are you, Blackmore? I should be careful if I were you. Taverner isn't popular, what with all his talk about doctors inflicting suffering on women. Not to mention his ridiculous notion that man is just another species of animal. I'm surprised you had the gall to pollute Lady Randolph's ears with that kind of blasphemy.”
Repressing a curse, John turned to face his nemesis.
“Dr. Steele,” he said blandly. “I didn't realize you had attended the lecture. Forgive me for neglecting to notice you. Obviously you already know Lady Randolph, so I won't bother to formally introduce you.”
Steele was a tall man, fit and handsome for his age, with a ruddy complexion. Right now he was turning red as a brick, furious at John's slight. But he managed to curb his spleen, instead diverting his attention to Bathsheba.
He gave a deep bow. “Lady Randolph, it is an honor to see you. I do hope you weren't offended by Taverner's disgusting lecture. It is beyond me why the fellows of the Royal Society allowed him to give it in the first place.”
John gave him a humorless smile. “Perhaps because they are interested in the advancement of science?”
Steele glared back, looking like an overheated beaker on the verge of exploding. Bathsheba smoothly intervened.
“On the contrary, Dr. Steele,” she said. “I found the lecture quite fascinating. I won't pretend to understand everything I heard, but Dr. Taverner struck me as a most thoughtful man. He clearly has the best interests of his patients at heart. Now, if you will excuse us, sir, our friends are waiting outside.”
She gave Steele a slight inclination of the head, superbly calculated to signal exactly what she thought of the old bastard, and slipped her hand in the crook of John's arm.
“Are you ready, Dr. Blackmore? We've kept Sarah and Dr. Wardrop waiting long enough.”
A snakelike breath hissed out from between Steele's teeth. Even with his best efforts, John couldn't hold back a smile as he and Bathsheba moved away.
“I know what you did, Blackmore.”
The sheer hatred in Steele's voice brought John up short. Reluctantly, he turned back to confront the other man. He had hoped to avoid this type of encounter in public, especially in front of Bathsheba.
Steele was beyond furious. John braced himself, belatedly realizing how seriously he had underestimated the man's reaction to losing one of his patients to another physician.
“I understand you have taken over Lady Silverton's treatment,” Steele barked. “Is that correct?”
Bathsheba's hand, still tucked into John's elbow, jerked convulsively. He gave it a slight squeeze before letting it go as he moved to stand in front of her.
“If you have anything to say to me, Dr. Steele, I suggest you allow me to call on you later today. We needn't subject Lady Randolph to any unpleasantries, especially in so public a venue.”
Steele glowered back at him, his mottled features distorted with hatred. Obviously, he was too far gone to care about making a fool of himself.
“You stole Lady Silverton from me,” he spat out, “and impugned my good name to the marquess. How dare you suggest I don't know how to care for my patients? I who was practicing medicine before you were out of short pants.”
Behind him, Bathsheba made a soft noise of distress and John's heart sank. She would be mortified to be caught in the middle of so ugly a scene, especially one that would attract so much attention from the gossips.
And attracting attention was exactly what was happening. Steele's blustering fury had caught the notice of several men who still lingered in the vaulted space of the vestibule. A few of them were doctors from Bart's and had clearly recognized both him and Steele. Not only would Bathsheba be subjected to a humiliating scene, it was almost certain that word of the altercation would reach Abernethy's ears in short order. John throttled back his frustration as he tried not to imagine his superior's reaction to the damaging gossip.
Other books
Dylan by Lisi Harrison
My Expectation (My Escort Series Book 3) by Kia Carrington-Russell
Dream Lover by Peterson, Nicola
The Complete Flying Officer X Stories by H.E. Bates
Into Death's Arms by Mary Milligan
Kiss Me Again by Kristi Rose
Home Truths by Freya North
In Bed with the Wrangler by Barbara Dunlop
Liquid Desires by Edward Sklepowich
Bella's Run by Margareta Osborn
