Julian realized with a start that Dr. Bentley had spent the past several moments considering his patient, and wondered just how much the doctor had seen in his face. Before he could attempt to divert him, Dr. Bentley abruptly leaned forward and laid his head on Julian's chest to listen to his heart. Julian laughed aloud before the doctor righted himself.
"You'd best change that to a groan," the doctor advised with a chuckle.
Julian grinned, at the same time emitting a sonorous groan that was sure to carry to all corners of the house.
"Much better. I think I can assure you of at least a sennight here."
Julian sagged. He was not certain it would be enough, but he was determined to do his best in that timeframe.
"Of course," the doctor added, "I may have to reassess my diagnosis at the end of that time. You may be quite right about a fortnight's rest."
"A fortnight should be just enough time."
The doctor retrieved his bag and began to walk towards the door. "Banns require three weeks."
Julian began to laugh, but then changed it to a moan. "But a special license…"
The doctor winked as he opened the door. Julian sank back against his pillows, relieved to have the doctor as a co-conspirator rather than an adversary.
"Rosalinde," Dr. Bentley called down the hall. "If I could have a word with you about—"
"Selby," Julian hissed. "Julian Selby."
"About Mr. Selby and his regimen."
Rosalinde entered the room, her eyes flicking nervously towards Julian.
"Do not let him tell you otherwise," Julian reassured her with a wink. "It's a mere scratch."
"It's always wise to treat these things seriously, I say. Lest they worsen." He turned a baleful gaze onto Julian, who slunk farther down into the pillows.
"He will be all right, won't he?" Rosalinde asked.
"There is no need to fear for Mr. Selby. He's an extremely healthy young man, and quite fit in the bargain. I am actually more concerned for you."
"But why?" She regarded Dr. Bentley quizzically. "I, too, am healthy."
Julian wondered what the doctor was about. Surely he did not mean to give him away?
"It has been my experience," the doctor continued in serious tones, "that the fittest young men make the most dreadful patients." He frowned at Julian, as if indeed expecting the worst. Julian bit back a smile. He could not have enlisted a better ally if he had tried.
"So it will be up to you to see that Mr. Selby remains abed. Which means that you shall have to draw on all your devious wiles to keep him entertained, for he shall do his utmost to convince you he is able to walk about on his own. And, unless I miss my guess, I suspect he shall try that whisker on you in a few days."
"A few days?" Rosalinde said, glancing quickly in Julian's direction.
He was certain it was hope he saw in her eyes. Or was it merely a reflection of his own wishful thinking?
"I know what an inconvenience this will cause you, my dear." Dr. Bentley smiled sympathetically. "But I also know injuries such as this are difficult to treat unless there is complete bedrest. I shall be back to check on him before the week is out, but it very well may be necessary that he stay here up to a fortnight."
"A fortnight?" Her voice cracked, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Julian looked at her ruefully. He had misjudged her dismissal of him and his proposals. She had never wanted his attentions. Indeed, hadn't she done all she could to flee him? He knew what he must do, no matter that his heart cried out the opposite.
"I apologize, Miss Hewitt," Julian said with utter sincerity. "Perhaps I can send Frederick to see about a private room at the inn."
He swung his "injured" leg out of the bed, remembering in time to stifle an oath at the "pain" that shot through him. It would not do to be caught out now.
Rosalinde rushed to his side, gingerly pressing him back against the bedcovers. "Please, Mr. Selby," she murmured. "Have a care."
Julian gazed into her anxious face. Had they been alone, he would have given in to the temptation to kiss away her obvious concern. As it was, he felt like kissing her for erasing some of his own apprehensions, both about her and their future together.
"I shall be the perfect patient," he vowed. As Rosalinde stood and turned away to receive any last-minute instructions from the doctor, Julian tossed a conspiratorial wink at Dr. Bentley.
The doctor had the last word, however.
"Best you go about this correctly, lad. If your heart is not truly in this endeavor, I can assure you a worse disaster than a wrenched knee will befall you."
Julian nodded solemnly, his eyes captured by the beauteous sight of Rosalinde Hewitt. His heart was inextricably involved in this endeavor. With charm, persistence, and a healthy dose of cooperation from the Fates, he would be hieing off for a special license long before a fortnight was over.
He was not willing to discover the fate awaiting the very first Duke of Enfield unable to wed his one true love.
Chapter 6
Why had she foolishly wished Mr. Selby would not have to depart? Now he was installed in her home, for at least a fortnight. Worse, she could not avoid him, for she was to be at his beck and call the entire time. Her father had brushed away each and every one of Rosalinde's concerns about the propriety of remaining in Mr. Selby's company.
"It is your charitable duty," he had gently reminded her.
She could not dispute him. To do so would require the confession that ministering to Mr. Selby elicited decidedly unchristian responses, both from her heart and her body.
Rosalinde cleared her mind of such thoughts, and then cleared her throat, ready to continue the lively tale she had been reading to Mr. Selby.
"Miss Hewitt, as much as I enjoy you reading aloud to me, I wonder if we might converse for a while instead."
Rosalinde set aside the book, smiling. "It almost sounds as though you are calling me a prosy bore."
He chuckled. "Not at all. I am calling the author a prosy bore."
"What should you like to converse about?"
"Hmm, well surely there is more I could learn about the village. And its residents." His face brightened. "I should like to know more about you, for example."
"You already know a great deal about me, more than most people do. To everyone here I am dependable Rosalinde, doer of good deeds, who was queen of the village fair, not once, but two years in a row."
"Twice? That is rather impressive."
"And unprecedented," she said with a laugh. "It is a record that stands to this day."
"It is no wonder. I cannot imagine anyone would ever be able to usurp your throne."
"You are filled with flattery, Mr. Selby." She grinned. "And I am not about to stop you any time soon."
"Then tell me about something unusual that happened in the village, something that got all the tongues to wagging."
Her cheeks heated. "Had you not been so clever with your deception—at the inn—I might be the one that had all the tongues wagging."
Julian waved his hand. "I am glad it worked so well. Now tell me of a sensational moment in the village history. Besides your well-deserved moment of royalty."
"I am not sure there is anything of note." It was one reason she had wanted to escape to London, to experience life at a more exhilarating pace than her current existence. She had looked forward to the museums, and galleries, not to mention science exhibitions, and the shopping…
"Nothing occurred? You are certain?"
Rosalinde grinned at his blatant disappointment. "There was a two-headed calf a couple of years ago. No one could speak of anything else for weeks. Other than that—Oh, I nearly forgot. An actual French duc stayed here once." She leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial voice. "Though I have always had my doubts that he truly was a duke."
"Why is that?"
"He was much too jovial. Not at all serious. Or dignified really."
Julian's eyes seemed to twinkle merrily for some
reason. "That is what made you decide he was not a duke? His jovial nature?"
She shrugged, her lips twitching.
"What was his title?"
"I think it was 'Le Duc de Quelque Chose'," she answered.
"The Duke of Something?" he translated with a laugh.
"I cannot really remember. Besides, he might have made all of it up, merely to be treated differently by us humble villagers."
Julian nodded as he considered that. "What might he have done to persuade you he truly was a duc? Even one of the ancien regime?"
"I am not certain. Perhaps if he had studied us with an ornate quizzing glass. Or traveled in a gilded carriage with a large retinue of servants." She paused. "What about you? You must have seen a duke in London."
He coughed several times. "Once or twice. From a distance."
Rosalinde sighed. "It must be magnificent, seeing the wonders of London on a daily basis. What is your favorite thing about the city?"
"Besides leaving it to return to the countryside?"
She couldn't resist his grin. "You are intent on persuading me to dislike London, but you will not be successful."
"I can be very persuasive."
His voice had dropped to an intimate whisper, making Rosalinde think for a brief moment that his words meant something else entirely. She shivered. She would have to strengthen her resistance to Mr. Selby's undeniable charms. Though not even the long-suffering Job could have withstood such a trial as hers.
"Now it is your turn," she insisted. "Tell me something that set the tongues to wagging in London."
He laughed. "The tongues never cease wagging there. I shall have to think what you might find intriguing."
Rosalinde moved her chair closer. When his expression lit up, she knew the tale was bound to be an entertaining one.
"There is a family in London," he began. "They are notorious, rather scandalous. At least some of them are."
"Perhaps you should not tell me anything further." She pursed her lips in a prim fashion, even though she wanted nothing more than to hear the scandalous tale.
"I am certain you will want to hear this," he said. "It does not end in tragedy. At least it has not so far. Their outrageous behavior is the result of a family curse."
This was too captivating to miss. "Fine. Tell me more of this notorious family."
"There is a daughter, who the ton nicknamed Flighty Felicia, because she had a penchant for eloping every fortnight or so."
Rosalinde's eyebrows flew upwards. No wonder Mr. Selby had not been shocked by her admission of trying to elope. She had only attempted it once.
"Why would she elope so many times?"
"Well, as I said, her family has a curse, where they must find, and wed, their one true love. If they do not, they will live in misery for the rest of their days."
"That sounds positively grim. I hope she found her one true love."
Julian brightened. "She did. Although it was not particularly easy. Because the family is also cursed to fall instantly in love."
This time Rosalinde frowned. "I believe our village duc is more real than this tale you are spinning."
"No, it is quite true! Flighty Felicia was the darling of society, despite her scandalous behavior, partly because she had a duke for a brother. A very eligible duke. And the ton was not about to cross somebody who was rich and marriageable."
"Lucky her," Rosalinde said with a chuckle. "And she fell instantly in love with—"
"A man betrothed to another. She proposed to him at his betrothal ball."
Rosalinde fell back in her chair, laughing. "Mr. Selby, you have quite the talent for storytelling. I nearly believed you, until that last bit." She gazed at him fondly. "At least now you can understand why I wish to see the sights of London. A two-headed calf can scarce compete with the fantastical tales you weave."
"Perhaps. But you have to admit there is something to be said for peace and quiet, and a more leisurely existence. Even when one is recuperating from an injury."
"I agree. I am glad my mother spent her illness here. I know she enjoyed looking out at her garden, and I did my best to entertain her to distract her from the pain she endured."
"I am so sorry." He reached his hand towards her, and she found herself unable to keep hers away.
"We spent a lot of time planning a jaunt to London." Her throat tightened. "Detailing every place we would visit, every shop we wanted to see. All while knowing she would not be leaving her bed to go anywhere."
He squeezed her hand. "It must have brought her such comfort."
"I like to believe so. And for a while, until recently, I was so keen to go to London because I wanted that stimulating life my mother and I had planned. I even convinced myself she would have wanted it for me. But now I realize it was a fool's errand. A way to ease my heartache at her not being with me anymore."
"That is perfectly understandable," he said. "But are you so sure you won't change your mind someday?"
She shook her head. "I had my chance, and it did not work out. Maybe because I am needed here."
Julian pursed his lips. "It sounds suspiciously like a truism I was forbidden to utter recently."
Rosalinde laughed. "It does! What would I do without you here to remind me of such things?"
"I shudder to think." He attempted to adjust the mound of pillows behind him, but could not reach one of them, which ended up bunched behind his shoulders.
"Here," Rosalinde said, standing. "I shall fix it. We would not want you injuring your arm, too. How would you manage to rid the skies of misshapen bonnets?"
He grinned, watching as she moved to the other side of the bed. "Have I mentioned what an excellent nursemaid you are?"
"There is no need to flatter me, Mr. Selby. I am entrusted with your care regardless. Now if you could lean forward…yes, that's perfect."
She fluffed the pillows and then re-arranged them until she noticed Julian was smiling once more.
And no wonder. Her bosom was close to his face, nearly pressed against it. She took a ragged breath, which only made matters worse. Her lace fichu was the only thing separating her from scandal. Yet she had the most unreasonable urge to remove it, to feel his touch against her overheated skin.
She should have retreated, even one step, but instead she brushed his hair off his forehead. His eyes locked with hers. His chest rose and fell more rapidly, just as hers did.
"Rosalinde," he murmured. The sound of her name on his lips was so intimate, so tantalizing. He placed his hand at her nape and guided her forward, until her lips were hovering over his. It was as if he was waiting for permission. She had no intention of saying no. She wanted to know if his kiss was as exciting as she had imagined.
She tilted her head until her mouth was on his. He kissed her softly, at first, and then more passionately. Rosalinde's heart pounded, with excitement, and a small amount of fear. How could she ever hope to exist without kisses like these?
She returned the kiss, deepening it, knowing it would be the only one she'd experience with him.
His arms wrapped around her, tugging her forward, and she nearly tumbled onto the bed. She gasped, not at how wicked it was, but how completely natural it felt.
What had come over her?
Rosalinde hurriedly stepped away from the temptation he presented, smoothing her skirts while attempting to gather her wits. She returned to her chair and picked up the book she had been reading aloud earlier, holding it close, as if it would serve as a talisman against the charming Mr. Selby.
"I should let you rest," she said.
"I do not find kisses to be exhausting."
She attempted a stern expression, but it only made his smile broaden. "They are most improper, Mr. Selby."
"Those are the best kind."
She turned, heading for the door.
"Please, Miss Hewitt. I would be quite restless if you were to leave." He tugged the blankets higher before crossing his arms over his chest. There was definite
ly mischief dancing in his eyes. "Dr. Bentley did say I was to be entertained during my convalescence."
She spun around, walking reluctantly back to the side of his bed, watching his satisfied grin the entire time. She leaned forward once more, until her lips were close to his.
"Do you find this entertaining?"
"Hmm," he murmured in agreement, lifting his head to reach her mouth.
She dropped the book on his chest. "Good night, Mr. Selby."
She could not help but grin when his strangled cry of frustration followed her out the doorway.
Chapter 7
Rosalinde peeked around the door, expecting Mr. Selby to be sulking or fretting, but to her surprise, he looked as cheerful as if she had actually delivered the kisses he had sought the previous evening.
"Good morning, Miss Hewitt."
She sat down decorously on the chair next to his bed. "Good morning, Mr. Selby." She glanced at the book on the nearby nightstand. "Did you find the story entertaining?"
"It put me right to sleep. I cannot remember when I've enjoyed a more peaceful slumber."
She laughed. "So I gather you do not wish me to read from it today. At least not until you are desirous of a nap."
He shook his head. "No, I would rather continue our conversation from yesterday."
"I cannot think what else to tell you about the two-headed calf." Her lips twitched. "We have quite exhausted that topic."
His grin made her heart skip a beat. She was not proof against it, no matter what she tried to tell herself. Perhaps she should take the book with her tonight, to aid her slumber, since she had tossed and turned most of the night, reliving every deliciously sinful moment of the kiss with Mr. Selby.
When his grin widened, she felt her cheeks blush. Drat the man. Must he read every one of her thoughts as well?
"I have another topic in mind." He paused. "I should like to hear more of Mr. Moulton."
She inclined her head. "What could you possibly wish to know?"
"Why, everything." His eyes twinkled. "For instance, did you always call him Mr. Moulton?"
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