As for Robert . . .
Henry’s muscles tightened as he recalled what that scoundrel had done. He’d take savage pleasure in ruining Robert’s face with his fists right now.
“I was wrong to think the worst of you when we first met,” Viola said. “I just assumed . . .”
“You thought there had to be some truth to what you’d heard?”
“Well yes.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t be. You only believed what I wanted you and the rest of the world to believe.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Opening a desk drawer, he retrieved a deck of cards and proceeded to shuffle it. “When I returned from university and made my first appearance at a ball after three years of absence, I was pursued by every mama looking to get her daughter settled. So I let it be known that I was not appropriate company for any young lady to be keeping.” He dealt a few cards and leaned back in his seat. “Of course, it didn’t deter the widows or the married women from looking for a bit of fun, but it helped me avoid marriage until I was ready for it.”
She picked up her cards and shook her head. “How peculiar.” And then she laughed. “It’s quite the ruse, the most notorious scoundrel no more of a threat to a young woman’s virtue than any other honorable gentleman she might encounter. What are we playing?”
He smiled because she amused him and because he enjoyed their effortless conversation, and also because she was so damn lovely. He placed four additional cards face up on the table. “Cassino. Are you familiar with it?”
Her lips tilted. “Of course.” She took the five and the two with her seven.
“The items you purchased for the rejuvenation center should be arriving this afternoon.” He added a three to the two on the table and she added an ace.
“Yes.” She puffed out a breath as he took the next trick with a six. “I’m thinking of heading over to the center after I leave here in order to have a look.”
“Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you?”
She raised her chin and her eyes met his. “Thank you, Mr. Lowell.” A soft smile pulled at her lips. “I think I’d like that.”
Pleasure filled him from top to toe on account of her quick acceptance. He was clearly making progress with her and loving every minute.
Chapter 13
Seeing how perfectly the cabinet she’d bought fit the space she’d intended for it distracted Viola a little from the butterflies Mr. Lowell invariably caused to flutter about in her belly. He wasn’t just charming and incredibly attractive. He was also exceedingly kind, helpful and amusing, not to mention understanding when it came to her past. She really enjoyed being around him. Not only because of the constant distraction he offered from the lawsuit and the pressing concern of possibly losing everything she’d worked so hard to build these past two years, but because she was growing increasingly fond of his company.
She still couldn’t believe he’d beaten her at cards before escorting her up the street to the rejuvenation center. And when she’d asked for a rematch, he’d declined, scoundrel that he was. A smile tugged at her lips as she wiped the cabinet door with a cloth. It was a bittersweet chore when she wasn’t sure if she’d lose it and everything else she’d purchased for the center to Robert. Still, she wasn’t about to concede defeat until forced to do so. The whole unit was dirty from standing outside at the market and had to be thoroughly cleaned no matter what.
“I checked the various rooms and believe this rug will fit really well in the upstairs one with the terracotta-colored walls.”
Viola turned to face Mr. Lowell, who, to her surprise, was standing a few feet behind her, legs braced in a solid stance and with the rolled-up rug resting firmly on his shoulder. Gone was his jacket, discarded Lord knew where. His shirtsleeves had been rolled up past his elbows to reveal a pair of strikingly handsome forearms.
Viola blinked. Strikingly handsome forearms? She had to be losing her mind. Especially since she’d seen those arms before at the hospital. Indeed, she’d seen a lot more than that while helping Florian operate on his brother, but she’d been preoccupied by the gravity of the situation, by the job she’d been required to do and other things she couldn’t recall at the moment because her mind was going blank.
“Um . . .” she managed in the most articulate way possible, because really, who was she kidding? The man was a truly extraordinary specimen of pure masculinity. And she ought to know because he wasn’t the first man she’d seen in a state of undress. Far from it.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Grinning as though he found her response incredibly amusing, he swung toward the stairs. “Come on then. Let’s go and see if I am correct.”
“You want me to come with you?” She wasn’t so sure that was wise. Least of all now that he was presenting her with a marvelous view of what appeared to be a very fine backside indeed. Her mouth began to water. If only she didn’t want him as much as she did.
“Of course,” he called as he started up the stairs, his breeches stretching across his thighs as he went. “This is your place of business, Viola. I believe you will want to make sure it is decorated according to your wishes.”
Certainly, but did that really have to involve a flutter in the pit of her belly or an endless series of hot little shivers caressing her skin? With a sigh, she followed him, resigning herself to the all-too-familiar state he was putting her in. For years she’d endeavored to avoid falling prey to desire again, to save herself from the type of heartache Robert had once caused her. And yet within a week and a half, Mr. Lowell had awakened a hunger inside her—a craving that only grew with each passing second. Worst of all, she felt increasingly powerless to stop it.
Did that make her wanton? Perhaps, but if that were the case then surely she would have had similar responses to other men, like Florian, for instance. Yet she’d never felt anything but friendship toward him even though she was able to acknowledge his handsomeness. And if she were perfectly honest, her feelings for Robert had been entirely different from the ones she now experienced toward Mr. Lowell. With Robert, she’d known the infatuation of a young girl whose heart had been free and ready to love. With Mr. Lowell, she felt the restraint of that misplaced trust while desperately hoping she might one day be brave enough to accept the secret yearnings of her mind, body and soul. Yearnings she’d thought long dead until Mr. Lowell had awakened them with his cheeky smiles and sparkling eyes.
Entering the room he’d mentioned earlier, she found him crouched on the floor as he rolled out the rug. He raised his gaze to her only briefly before continuing with his task. A dazzling pattern of cobalt blue intertwined with gold graced the dark wood floor, complementing the wall color beautifully.
“What do you think?” Mr. Lowell asked. Straightening himself, he stood and took a step back to admire the piece.
Viola could only tell him the truth. “It is perfect.”
“I quite agree.” His voice had softened and when she looked up, she saw he was watching her closely.
But then he spun away as if surveying the space, and she was left to wonder if she’d imagined the gleam of desire in his eyes. Her heart told her it was real but her brain insisted she must be deluding herself, because if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that she was far from perfect and that a man as handsome as Mr. Lowell couldn’t possibly think otherwise, in spite of his words to the contrary.
“This seems a bit out of place,” he said, indicating a narrow table that was shoved up against one wall. “And there’s a hole in it.”
Crossing to where he stood, Viola looked at the spot to which he pointed. “That’s intentional.” Her heart sped up a little for some absurd reason. “This table will be in the center of the room. It’s intended for a client to lie on while having hand pressure applied to their backs and shoulders. I’ve actually hired a Chinese couple who specialize in this technique. The
wife will tend to the women and the husband to the men. The hole is there so the client’s face won’t be pressed into the mattress—so they can breathe more freely.”
“I see.” Mr. Lowell nodded as if her explanation made perfect sense. “Shall we move it into position then?” Grabbing one end of the table, Mr. Lowell lifted it slightly, testing the weight. “It’s not too heavy. We can easily manage without disturbing the workers.”
His inclination to do the job himself instead of being one of those pompous aristocrats who stood about barking orders for servants to follow made the wall Viola had built around her heart dissolve even further. He wasn’t just a handsome face or a bit of fun company. He was also useful and unassuming, and as Viola picked up the other end of the table and helped him maneuver it into the middle of the room, she decided that she not only liked him but respected him. A lot.
“There. That wasn’t too difficult.” He gave her a wink, and happiness curled her toes. “Let’s test it.” Before she could think to protest, he’d climbed up onto the table and placed himself face down so his mouth and nose aligned with the hole. “Hmm.”
She knit her brow in question. “What is it?”
Rising up a little on one of those distractingly handsome forearms, he offered a lopsided smile. “This is really comfortable.”
“You didn’t expect it to be?”
“I’m not sure what I expected, to be honest.” He lowered himself again, and when he spoke once more, it was with a muffled mumble. “Let’s see how this works then, shall we?”
Viola’s ribs clamped tightly around her heart. “What do you mean?” She knew exactly what he meant.
He flung one arm out and swatted toward his back. “Do the hand pressure thing.”
“Mr. Lowell, I’m really not educated in that sort of technique so it would probably be best if—”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Viola. I’m just curious to see what it’s like.”
“It’s not appropriate,” she felt compelled to say.
He sighed and rose back up again, this time with the sort of expression that seemed to say, I thought you had more sense than to let such a trifling matter ruffle your feathers. Instead he said, “The door is wide open and the place is full of workers. Look, here’s one right now.” He nodded a greeting to the man who entered the room.
“Forgive the intrusion,” the man said, “but I thought I’d come and hang the mirror we spoke about earlier.” He gave Mr. Lowell a funny look before returning his attention to Viola.
“Of course,” she said. “Please go right ahead.”
“And don’t mind us,” Mr. Lowell told him from his position on the table. “We’re just testing the equipment and making sure it works to Her Grace’s satisfaction.” He tilted his chin at Viola. “Come on then,” he said, and dropped his head once more.
Viola gave the worker a hesitant look and saw he was already busy taking measurements and marking the wall behind her. Inhaling deeply, she took a small step toward the table on which Mr. Lowell was waiting. He seemed so relaxed, and considering the riotous state he’d put her nerves in, that was incredibly irritating.
I’m a professional, she told herself. She’d nursed an endless number of men since opening St. Agatha’s Hospital two years earlier. But this was different. This was intimate, even if Mr. Lowell made it seem like the most normal thing in the world. It wasn’t. She knew it in the way her hands trembled with the prospect of touching him so directly. Shockingly, it occurred to her that she might even covet the chance to do so, as evidenced by how easily her resistance had wavered and crumbled.
A more resilient woman would have quit the room and returned downstairs to continue cleaning the cabinet. She, on the other hand, placed her palm upon his shoulder and squeezed. His only response was a languid sigh, encouraging her to continue. So she added her other hand too and pressed deep, pushing her thumbs against the tense muscle in the way she’d seen Mrs. Zhang do when she’d demonstrated her technique to Viola during her interview.
Bolstered by the fact that Mr. Lowell showed little response besides lying there, she allowed her hands to knead along the sides of his back, then up the center and again to his shoulders.
He expelled what sounded like an involuntary groan and Viola’s hands stilled. “Are you all right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She increased the pressure, more slowly this time. His shoulders were broad and his hair . . .
Silky black locks tickled her knuckles as she worked close to his neck. Leaning forward, she put her weight into the movement, and when she inhaled, the enticing combination of sandalwood and bergamot lured her closer.
“Your Grace?”
Viola straightened her spine and took a step back, her pulse leaping lightly at her wrist as she turned to face the worker who’d addressed her. “Yes?” Her breath came heavily, and to her dismay, she could feel heat burning her cheeks.
“Will this do?” The worker pointed to the mirror, which now hung exactly where Viola intended it to.
“Yes. Thank you.” She swallowed and reached for the table to steady herself.
“I think this place will be a marvelous success,” Mr. Lowell said as he hopped off the table. “That felt really good.” He rotated his shoulders and strode to the door, pausing there as if to wait for her. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Viola stood in stupefied wonderment as he disappeared round the corner. Was she really the only one affected by what they’d just done together? She drew a sharp breath to calm her nerves, aware there was nothing wrong with it per se. She was after all a widow, and they hadn’t been behind a locked door. Indeed, they hadn’t even been alone! And yet somehow, she felt as though she’d just been slightly seduced. Although bearing in mind their positions, maybe she’d been the one doing the seducing?
Shaking her head, she forced one foot in front of the other, intent on following Mr. Lowell wherever he intended to take her. She was keenly aware that the path on which they were traveling was far more dangerous than she’d ever dared to imagine.
Henry was incredibly grateful for the extra bit of time it took Viola to join him in the next room. Her delay allowed him to hide the effect of her touch behind his jacket, which he now held strategically in front of himself. Having discarded it here earlier when he’d climbed a ladder to hang one of the lanterns she’d bought, he’d hurried to retrieve it.
Christ!
It had been impossible not to respond as he had with her long, slender fingers working upon him in ways that produced all manner of inappropriate contemplations, all of which involved fewer clothes and privacy. Hoping his face wouldn’t give him away, he attempted a bland expression and allowed for the barest hint of a smile when she entered.
A frown creased her forehead, making him wonder . . .
“You wanted to show me something?” she asked.
He shook himself into motion and went to collect the tinderbox he’d left on a small built-in ledge to one side. “I borrowed this from the foreman. Close the door, will you?”
“Mr. Lowell.”
Her voice was stern and censorious and, to Henry’s amusement, did little to quash his desire. Least of all when he imagined her using that voice on him while wearing a pair of spectacles. By God, he really had to get his depraved mind sorted.
So he thought of the cod-liver oil he’d been forced to consume as a boy and the wasp sting he’d suffered one summer and how that would feel right there where . . . Yes, that did it. He breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his jacket back onto a vacant chair that must have been brought in on a whim because it didn’t match anything.
“I just want to show you what I’ve done.” When she looked at him as though he must think she’d fallen off a wagon, he added, “The effect won’t be as good if the room is flooded by light from the hallway.” Still, she hesitated, so he blew out a breath and gave her the most imploring look he could muster. “Please?”
H
er nostrils flared a little and her eyes seemed to brighten. And then . . . “Very well, but please be quick about it.”
He grabbed the ladder leaning against the wall while she closed the door until it stood only slightly ajar. Climbing the rungs, he reached the desired height and balanced himself against the rails.
“Do be careful,” Viola told him.
He smiled as he handled the tinderbox. “It warms my heart to know you’re worried about my safety.”
She snorted while he struck a flint, sparking a flame. “An accident would be bad for business.”
He laughed and held the flame to the candle inside the lantern. A glow emerged, reddened by the colorful glass casing and shining a pattern of rectangles onto the walls, ceiling and floor. Carefully, Henry descended the ladder and set the tinderbox back in its place. He glanced at Viola, who stood as if dazed.
“It’s so beautiful.”
Her words were mere whispers reaching across the distance between them and pulling him closer. But he resisted the lure in order to simply admire her wonder. “I agree.” And then, to dissuade her from discerning his true meaning so she wouldn’t think him too forward, he cleared his throat and quickly added, “I’m not sure what your intention is with this particular room, but the atmosphere is very pleasing.”
A smile lit her eyes as she turned to him. “This will be where the women can enjoy a cup of tea and relax. It is where they will wait to be taken through to the room we were just in or to the sauna or bath or one of the other treatment areas we offer.”
“When do you intend to open for business?”
“As soon as possible.” She allowed her gaze to collide with his, the effect so powerful he almost felt the need to sit. “I’m planning to host the grand opening on the twenty-fifth.”
“That doesn’t leave much time to prepare.” She was only allowing herself four days in which to add the final touches.
“I know, but I don’t want to wait any longer than that.” She bit her lip, studied him for a second before saying, “The hospital needs the extra income in order to grow. With patient numbers increasing each month, we’ll soon have to turn people away, which is something I don’t want to do. So I’m thinking of acquiring additional buildings to serve as specialized branches. I even made a list of the physicians and surgeons I’d like to hire, but they’re all the finest at what they do so they won’t come cheap. ”
The Infamous Duchess Page 16