The Awakening 0f A Forbidden Passion (Historical Regency Romance)

by Emily Honeyfield

  They fell into silence and sipped their tea, nibbled on their sandwiches and pretended to take in the books for a few minutes. Finally, Miss Morton said, “Do you read much?” George followed her eyes to the stack of books he had been sifting through when she came in.

  George admitted, “I do when my schedule permits. Mind you, it rarely permits.”

  “Do you think my memory is due to hysterics?” Her eyes lifted to his and held a wariness.

  George shook his head. “No. I was merely going through old medical volumes, trying to find cases that correlated in case I had missed something.”

  “You worry very much for your patients,” Miss Morton observed. “I wonder who worries over you.”

  George chuckled and admitted, “I dare say that my landlady probably worries more than most.”

  “So there is no lady you are courting then?” As soon as she had asked the question, Miss Morton’s cheeks colored and she laughed. “How horrible that must sound.”

  George waved off her concern. He took a sip of tea to show her he was unfazed by her question. In reality, it had struck him off balance. It was not the typical thing a young lady asked, but there had grown an intimacy of friendship between them that afternoon and ladies often asked such things of their friends.

  “Think of it not,” George said with an air of dismissal. “You are merely treating me as one of your friends and I take that as an honor.”

  Miss Morton laughed, a bright, sparkling sort of laugh. It was mesmerising. George watched her in awe, his teacup held up to his lips.

  She covered her face and hid as she tried to control the laughter that seemed to be bubbling up. George wagered it was nerves and the long days of boredom. He longed to tell her it was fine, but his lips quirked.

  He found himself chuckling along with her as he set down his tea to keep from spilling it. He shook his head at himself, at her, and at the afternoon sunlight that fell over them. He sighed, “I dare say, that was good for the spirit.”

  “You must find me so absurdly boorish,” Miss Morton declared as if angry with herself. “I feel as if I am insane.”

  George assured her, “Being cooped up is horrible for the spirit, and it will find ways to release itself. I think a good walk or two a day should aid in you being more content and feeling more like yourself.”

  “Were you some other man, you would have scolded me,” Miss Morton said with a shake of her head.

  George clucked his tongue. “Nonsense. No self-respecting gentleman would hold a lady’s amusement against her. You deserve to laugh, Miss Morton.”

  She gave him a smile. “You may know my every thought, but you never fail to surprise me, Doctor Rowley.”

  George did not even remind her that he was not a mind reader. He just lifted his teacup back to his lips. Let her think what she would.

  ***

  Priscilla felt giddy from her time with Doctor Rowley in the library. “It truly was wonderful to just play the piano and talk with someone.”

  Gwen smiled at her. “Doesn’t hurt that the doc is a finely handsome man.”

  “Gwen,” Priscilla chided. “I am betrothed. Besides, Doctor Rowley sees me only as his patient.”

  Gwen nodded her head, humming as if she did not believe a word of it. She twisted Priscilla’s hair up into a bun and pinned it into place. “Good thing that, since I do not think His Grace would take kindly to being jilted.”

  “He has nothing to worry over,” Priscilla assured her. “Sounds to me as if you might be carrying a bit of a torch for the good doctor.”

  Gwen shushed her. “Don’t be saying such. I am a married woman,” she said loudly. Then she whispered, “Mind you, I’m not dead and the doctor is easy on my eyes.”

  Priscilla giggled at Gwen’s boldness. It felt good to just be silly. Life would sort itself out, would it not? There was a knock at the door. “Enter,” Priscilla called.

  Lady Chaplin came into the room like a lavender-scented breeze. She gave Priscilla a smile. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. I’m not nearly as dizzy this morning,” Priscilla said.

  Her mother’s look of relief made her feel better overall. Lady Chaplin stayed and watched as Gwen finished getting Priscilla’s bonnet pinned into place over her bun. Priscilla ventured, “Has Doctor Rowley told you of his and Doctor Henderson’s recommendation?”

  “Yes,” Lady Chaplin said. Her face grew sad. “I am so sorry that you have to postpone things even further, Priscilla. We just want you better.”

  Priscilla assured her mother, “I am fine. It is Lord Ridlington that I worry over with the news. I know he was anxious for the wedding to go ahead, as were you and Father.”

  “We just thought it might be better for you, but with two doctors saying otherwise it is hardly up for debate.” Lady Chaplin swept away any concerns over it with a dainty hand in the air. “Worry not over us, or Lord Ridlington. Your father and Doctor Rowley can handle all of that.”

  Priscilla had hardly expected her mother to be so agreeable, but clearly, two doctors voicing the same opinion had won over the woman. She was, however, grateful to have her mother firmly on her side finally. Lady Chaplin was a strong-willed woman and a force to be reckoned with. It was better to have her as an ally.

  Lady Chaplin gave Priscilla a smile. “Now, I really have to go to meet your father in the dining hall.”

  “Is Bridgitte around?” Priscilla had asked the question out of curiosity, but clearly it surprised her mother.

  Lady Chaplin nodded. “Unless she has taken flight, then yes.”

  “I was thinking that she might like to go for a walk with me. Doctor Rowley wants me to take a constitutional and I thought she might like to join me sometimes.” Priscilla told her mother the idea to try it out.

  Lady Chaplin nodded her approval. “Sounds like a fine thing for the both of you. All she does is sulk these days.”

  “Is she still upset over my accident?” Priscilla felt horrible that her clumsiness had caused her sister such strife.

  Lady Chaplin shook her head. “I think it has more to do with a summer gala that your father refused to allow her to attend.”

  “Oh,” Priscilla said with a grin. “That sounds more like Bridgitte.”

  Her mother’s amused smile let Priscilla know that she thought the same thing. “You shall be down for breakfast soon? Or will you eat in your room?” Lady Chaplin made her way to the door, waiting at the door for an answer.

  Priscilla thought about that. “I think I shall conserve my energy for my walk and eat in my room.”

  “That might be a wise decision,” Lady Chaplin agreed. “Besides, your father talks nonstop of his business venture and you are wise to spare yourself.”

  Priscilla hid a laugh behind her hand as her mother lifted her hand in farewell. Then Lady Chaplin was out of the door, leaving behind only a lingering smell of lavender to confirm that she had ever been there. Gwen, in turn, went to the door. “I shall be back in a moment with your breakfast, Miss.”

  “Very well,” Priscilla said as she made her way over to her nightstand. With everyone gone but her the room grew quiet and still. Where before there had been movement and laughter, now there was only the movement of her heart.

  She picked up a book she had brought up with her from the library. It was mostly old folklore, but some of the stories held the most beautiful illustrations. Priscilla flipped through the book absentmindedly while she waited.

  There was a knock at the door and Priscilla frowned. “Come in,” she called. How odd that Gwen should knock.

  The door cracked open and Doctor Rowley peered into the room. “Miss Morton, where is your maid?”

  “She went to retrieve my breakfast,” Priscilla informed him. “Do you intend on standing in the hallway until she returns?”

  Doctor Rowley laughed but remained firmly in the hallway. “I think it might be better if I did. It is not on for a gentleman to be in a young lady’s bedroom without being c
haperoned.”

  “I suppose that is fair enough,” Priscilla said. Still, it was amusing to watch the man loitering in the hall.

  “I think that I may go on down to breakfast and catch you and your maid in a bit,” Doctor Rowley said, and Priscilla felt disappointment that she quickly pushed down. He gave her a nod of his head and then he was gone.

  Priscilla whispered, “Well, that’s fine.”

  Gwen did not arrive until several minutes later. Priscilla sighed at her. “Took you long enough.”

  Gwen retorted, “Fine, thanks. The tray isn’t heavy at all.”

  Priscilla giggled and cleared off a spot on her vanity. “The doctor came by while you were gone. I had to fight him off.”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “I saw him on my way back from the kitchen.”

  “Spoilsport that one,” Priscilla teased. She sat down in her chair as Gwen waved off her silliness. “Sit down, Gwen, and eat.”

  Gwen begrudgingly did so. After all, the maid had been with Priscilla long enough to know that she would not give up once she had offered a meal. They ate and talked about random things.

  “Are you really going to invite that sister of yours on a constitutional walk?” Gwen’s face screwed up as she asked. “Seems to me that her presence would be the opposite of relaxing.”

  Priscilla flipped her hand over, and the sweet roll she was holding sprinkled some sugar on her lap. “If she ushers me off to an early grave then at least I can get some rest.”

  “Thought you had had your fill of resting,” Gwen replied with a grin.

  Priscilla laughed and brushed the sugar off her skirt. “I suppose I have, but at least then it will not matter if I can remember things or not. I imagine that Heaven probably does away with all of that nonsense.”

  “I never wager I’ll go to Heaven. I figure they don’t let poor people in there, no more than they do the fancy balls.” Gwen’s voice was light and full of teasing, but it still made Priscilla a bit sad to think of a Heaven without Gwen. Surely if anyone deserved to go to Heaven it was her.

  Priscilla waved off Gwen’s words. “You shall make me sad.”

  “I am a realistic person, as you well know, Miss,” Gwen reminded her. “I think God rightly probably reserves a special place for those who suffer in this life.”

  Priscilla thought about that. “Probably better than the one where the rest of us go.”

  They fell into a companionable silence as they finished their breakfast. When at last they had eaten nearly every roll and peach slice, Gwen lay back in her chair. “If I eat anymore, then I may find out right now what Heaven is like for poor people.”

  Priscilla giggled. “I shall have to take a very long walk to keep from bursting my corset,” Priscilla said contentedly as she patted her stomach, much the way her father did after a big, satisfying meal.

  Gwen stood up and began tidying up their tray when there was a knock at the door. Priscilla straightened in her chair. Gwen motioned for Priscilla to wipe her cheek and to Priscilla’s amusement, her napkin came away with a dribble of honey. She tidied herself as Gwen waited by the door.

  Priscilla nodded that Gwen could open the door. The maid opened it up and Doctor Rowley bowed his shoulder and head toward them. “I see you two have finished eating.”

  “You must not have eaten much,” Priscilla noted. “Surely you did not walk all the way down there, get a plate, and eat so quickly.”

  Doctor Rowley assured her, “I ate plenty. Now, let me look you over to make certain you are fit for your constitutional.”

  Priscilla made a show of irritation, but she complied with his orders to take deep breaths, look this way, look that way. “Any dizziness this morning?”

  “No, well, a touch.” Priscilla gave him a sheepish look. “It was nothing. It was not even enough for me to mention it to Gwen.”

  Gwen nodded. “Aye, she hasn’t mentioned a peep about it.”

  Doctor Rowley gave her a considering look then she saw that little one-sided smile of his emerging before he cleared his throat. With his calm, professional face firmly in place, he said, “I will rule you fit, but you must tell me if you experience any more dizziness.”

  “I promise,” Priscilla vowed fervently.

  Doctor Rowley offered her his arm. “Now, I would like to take you around myself, but you appear to have a visitor this morning.”

  “Oh?” Priscilla was not aware of any visitor.

  Doctor Rowley led her to the door while Gwen gathered up the tray and followed them out into the hallway. “Yes, your betrothed arrived just as I came to check on you. I am sure he is anxiously waiting for me to finish my examination.”

  Priscilla put a smile on her face. It was not that hard to do while Doctor Rowley spoke to her. His voice was so kind. What was his name again? Had someone said? Did she even know his name? Priscilla pondered a bit as she suddenly could not remember.

  Sure enough, when they reached the landing overlooking the entrance hall, Lord Ridlington awaited them. He lifted a charming smile up at her. His dark blue coat was clearly tailored to his well-built form. Priscilla lifted her hand in a little wave as Doctor Rowley helped her descend the stairs with Gwen following along behind.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Doctor Rowley held her hand out to Lord Ridlington and Priscilla found it amusing how it seemed so much like part of a wedding service. The irony must have been lost on the men, for they merely nodded and said pleasantries to each other. “It is lovely to see you, Lord Ridlington.”

  “And you, Miss Morton,” Lord Ridlington concurred. “I am informed that you may take a morning constitutional.”

  Priscilla told Lord Ridlington, “Yes. The good doctor thinks it would do my spirit and body good to be out in nature.”

  “I cannot disagree with that,” Lord Ridlington said with a chuckle. “Will you accompany us, Doctor Rowley?”

  Doctor Rowley nodded. “I shall follow along behind you in case she has another fainting spell. I will give you as much privacy as I can, Your Grace.”

  “Good man,” Lord Ridlington said with a smile. He guided Priscilla toward the door that led toward the gardens. Priscilla looked over her shoulder at Doctor Rowley trailing along a respectful distance away, then she looked up at Lord Ridlington with a smile.

  It would be nice to be out in the sunshine. The breeze met her as if it was eager to embrace her. She breathed in the smell of the gardens. How she had missed being out here.

  She felt fine. Priscilla pondered at how good she actually did feel. She felt as if she could run from one side of the lawn to the other, not that she would. The idea of it made her quite amused though.

  No doubt the gentlemen both would faint from shock, then what would Priscilla do? She pushed away the idea and kept herself amused with thought of shocking them so.

  She did, at odd times, feel as if she were never injured at all. Why, she had begun to get agitated at being treated like an invalid until her fainting spell had proved she was not as well as she felt. That one bump on her head could cause such woe was a terrifying thing. A man was a fragile creature.

  Chapter 8