Kissed at Twilight

by Miriam Minger

  “Ah, I believe Dr. Whitaker is here.”

  Linette froze in the chair at the clopping of hooves coming to a halt outside, her widened gaze meeting Donovan’s.

  “He rides a fine horse, a good thing for covering this parish. I’m considering giving him another so he’ll have two strong steeds, just in case. What do you think, Linette?”

  She started as the first resonant chime of the three o’clock hour sounded behind her, not thinking of horses or anything else.

  The second chime had no sooner rung and she jumped up and fled from the library, determined to make it upstairs to her room before the footman even opened the front door.

  ***

  A half hour later, Linette paced back and forth across her room, feeling even more foolish than she could have imagined.

  Whatever was the matter with her? She was behaving more ridiculously than she had ever done in her life…and why?

  Because a gentleman had kissed her—quite innocently, just as Donovan had said—in a time-honored custom known to all? A custom so harmless that most unmarried girls never gave a thought to if it had been one gentleman or three to steal a kiss under the mistletoe, while Dr. Adam Whitaker’s lips had barely touched hers and their kiss was done!

  Linette’s pacing only quickened, and she wondered if he might have already left the house.

  She hadn’t peeked through the door this time, but had kept it firmly shut, though she had heard his footsteps going down the hall accompanied by Miss Biddle’s lighter tread. She should compose herself and exit her room, and hold her head high no matter that the family might tease her, as she imagined they would. Tea would be served very soon, and all this agitation had made her very hungry—

  “Miss Easton, His Grace would like to see you in the library at once.”

  Linette had frozen at Miss Biddle’s voice beyond the door, but the request had her baffled.

  Donovan wished to see her? Perhaps he had questions about what Estelle had told her, though she had shared with him everything she knew. She opened the door, nodding to the housekeeper as she stepped into the hall.

  “Has…has Dr. Whitaker left for the day?”

  Linette barely waited for an answer, fully expecting to hear “Yes,” from Miss Biddle, only to halt at the top of the stairs when the woman simply said, “No, he’s in the library.”

  The library?

  For a moment, Linette didn’t quite know what to do. Plead a sudden headache and run back to the refuge of her room?

  Yet Donovan had requested her presence and she could not refuse him. Like everyone in the household, she wished to do her part to make the transition from this home to Arundale Hall a smooth one. She had only to think of his desk piled high with papers and the fatigue under his eyes to make her believe he must need her assistance.

  Linette quickly smoothed her skirt, wishing she’d taken a moment to run a brush through her long auburn curls that she preferred to wear loose down her back. There was nothing to be done about it now.

  She went down the steps, her pulse beating faster with every footfall. To her relief, she saw that the offending ball of mistletoe had been removed from the chandelier, which gave her courage to propel herself into the library. At once, both Donovan and Dr. Whitaker rose to greet her, though she kept her gaze fully trained upon her brother-in-law.

  “Is anything amiss, Donovan?”

  “Yes, actually, with Mrs. Polkinghorne. It appears she didn’t appreciate our new doctor here, and surprisingly had no knowledge that Dr. Philcup had left town. She refused to allow him to treat her, and claims now that she lies at death’s door. Her husband assured Dr. Whitaker it wasn’t anything of the sort, but she will not be appeased. A conundrum, to be sure, but one for which Dr. Whitaker has offered a sound suggestion.”

  Her mind spinning from this news, Linette only then glanced at Dr. Whitaker, who bowed his head slightly at her, his eyes intent upon her face.

  “R-really? Truly, I have no idea what this might have to do with me…” she began lamely in spite of her sudden niggling of suspicion. “Did…did you mean for me to help in some way?”

  “Precisely. I’ve agreed for you to accompany Dr. Whitaker to Porthleven, with one of the maidservants and in a carriage, of course, to see if you might ease matters between him and Mrs. Polkinghorne. It’s hardly an auspicious start for our new doctor, Linette, surely you can see that. I would do it myself, but I’ve another matter in the village to attend to.”

  With that, Donovan strode from around his desk and past Linette, pausing only to give her a light kiss upon the cheek, and then he was gone from the library.

  Leaving her to stare in astonishment at Dr. Whitaker and him, at her, until he swept his hand toward the door, the faintest hint of a smile upon his handsome face.

  “Shall we go, Miss Easton?”

  Chapter 6

  Adam Whitaker wasn’t a man to often find himself puzzled about a situation, but he was this afternoon. And it didn’t have anything to do with the recalcitrant Mrs. Polkinghorne.

  He glanced from the carriage window to where the lovely Miss Linette Easton, seated opposite him, stared determinedly out her own window, not having uttered a word since they left her home. Meanwhile, the young red-haired maidservant, Prudie, maybe a year older than Estelle, looked from one to the other and then down at her hands.

  He wasn’t sure if Linette was angry with him, or simply uncomfortable in his presence, or overly shy. All he knew was that her continued silence, no matter he’d tried unsuccessfully to draw her into light conversation, did not bode well for easing matters with Mrs. Polkinghorne.

  Already they had reached the main road to Porthleven, which was lined with quaint whitewashed cottages, so their destination wasn’t too far away. He had to do something to draw her out, either that or simply stare at her in hopes of eliciting some response.

  He smiled to himself. No unpleasant task there. He’d found himself staring at Linette whenever he was around her, from the moment he’d first seen her in church on Christmas Day to this awkward carriage ride. In truth, all of the Easton women had been blessed with uncommon beauty, attested to by the portrait of the four sisters that he’d glimpsed in the drawing room…but to him, Linette was the loveliest of all.

  He couldn’t forget how his breath had stilled when he’d seen her twisting around in the pew to look for her sister Estelle, though he hadn’t known it at the time. Their eyes had met, and he’d seen her blush prettily, only to quickly turn around when Corisande, the Duchess of Arundale, whispered something in her ear.

  Linette Easton seemed to blush quite a lot, he’d noticed, the deepest hue right before he’d kissed her beneath the mistletoe.

  A sweet, innocent kiss that had captured his thoughts since Christmas Day, as well as the softness of her scent—tea rose—when he’d stood so close to her, and how she’d looked.

  Her dark lashes spiked with moisture from happy tears at her sister and Luther’s reunion, her beautiful brown eyes wide and lustrous, her skin so fair against her ripe red lips, parted in surprise as he drew even closer to kiss her.

  The sensation of his coat buttons grazing the bodice of her lavender silk dress, her loose auburn tendrils framing her creamy neck and tumbling down her back in a cascade of glossy waves that he’d found himself aching to touch—

  “Must you stare so, sir? It’s very rude.”

  Amazing! His strategy had worked. Adam bowed his head slightly and smiled at her.

  “Forgive me, Miss Easton…but in truth, how can I not? You’re looking quite lovely today in that matching blue coat and bonnet. Ravishing, actually.”

  The bold compliment had spilled forth without him even thinking, astonishing Adam though not half as much as Linette. Yet how could he not praise her when her tailored pelisse fit her feminine curves so closely? She gaped at him, her mouth fallen open, then she snapped it shut and averted her gaze to the window, only to look back at him again, her cheeks bright pink with color. />
  “Indeed, Dr. Whitaker, it’s highly inappropriate that you would say such things to me.”

  “Yes, perhaps so, but I have the pleasure of you speaking with me now, don’t I? I must apologize if I offended you in some way to make you desire to keep silent for much of the journey—”

  “Your offense, sir, was suggesting to my brother-in-law that I accompany you when I’d have much preferred to stay at home!”

  “Ah, you’re a homebody. No liking for outings on such a splendid afternoon. We’ll turn right around then, and I’ll trouble you no further—”

  “Of course, we can’t turn around. My brother-in-law asked for my help. And I’m not a homebody!”

  Indignant now, her eyes flashing, Adam found that he couldn’t have looked away from her if he’d tried. The delicate scent of tea rose drifting to him was intoxicating. He smiled again, which seemed to make her bristle all the more, and cross her arms tightly over her chest. Strangely, it looked from her posture as if she was protecting herself somehow, which made him soften his teasing.

  “If it’s any consolation for my disrupting your day, I’m very glad you’re here, Miss Easton. I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve heard Mrs. Polkinghorne’s opinion matters a great deal in this parish…and it appears I’ve lost her good graces before I’ve had a chance to foster them. It’s clear she was very partial to Dr. Philcup.”

  “Yes, because he took great interest in her gossip…and kept up with his patients that way. Mrs. Polkinghorne seems to know everything about everybody, at least in the village, from the moment a new baby is on the way to a sore throat or lingering headache. I don’t know how she manages to get any sewing done for all her running about gathering the latest news.”

  Adam sat back against the seat, startled at the priceless information that had poured from his beauteous companion.

  “I believe, Miss Easton, you have just saved my budding practice here, and I’m most grateful. Thank you.”

  At once her cheeks tinged with pink, but what stirred a rush of feeling in Adam was the tremulous smile she gave him, as if his thanks had touched her. Then she seemed to suddenly shake off the feeling, straightening her shoulders as she gestured outside.

  “We’re here, Dr. Whitaker.”

  How Adam wished at that moment to hear his given name upon her lips, just as he’d wished countless times since Christmas Day. Yet how to effect it? He’d driven himself so relentlessly with his medical studies, as much because he required an occupation to support himself as to prove to his accursed father that he didn’t need a title or his damned money, that he’d kept the company of women hardly at all.

  Certainly none like Miss Linette Easton. Forcing away all thoughts of the man he despised, Adam opened the door as soon as the carriage rolled to a stop and jumped to the ground so he might offer her his hand before the liveried footman.

  He knew now as surely as she placed her gloved hand in his that he wanted any opportunity to touch her, however briefly, and as many occasions to spend time in her company as he could devise. She met his eyes, murmuring her thanks, and Adam swore he could feel her fingers trembling in his, until both her feet touched the ground and she let him go.

  “Ais, Miss Easton, what a surprise to see ‘ee!” cried a lanky man who’d rushed out of the cottage to meet them. “An’ the good doctor, God be praised.”

  As Linette moved ahead of him to greet Arthur Polkinghorne, Adam retrieved his black bag from the floor of the carriage. Then he followed the two of them inside, where he heard loud moans coming from a side room of the neatly kept cottage.

  Without hesitation, Linette walked into the small bedroom, Adam and Mr. Polkinghorne crowding in behind her.

  “Mrs. Polkinghorne, it’s me, Linette Easton,” she murmured to the plump, apple-shaped woman lying there covered to her double chin with blankets and her eyes tightly closed. “I’ve come to see you with Dr. Whitaker—”

  “Go away, go away! Let an old woman die in peace!”

  “Oh, my, no, there will be no dying today. Dr. Whitaker would like to examine you…and then visit with you for a while, if you’d like. You can tell him all the news, just as you did with Dr. Philcup.”

  “Truly?” One bright blue eye had popped open to survey Adam from head to foot, and then the other, although Mrs. Polkinghorne looked doubtful. “I would think such a fine upstanding gentleman too busy to spend much time with me—”

  “Not at all, I’ve all the time in the world,” Adam broke in gently, coming forward. “Shall I sit here beside the bed? Maybe your husband would bring us each a cup of tea.”

  “Artie, some hot tea!” blurted the woman, sitting up straight in the bed in her flannel nightgown and waving her arm as if she hadn’t an ailment in the world. “Didn’t ‘ee hear the doctor? An’ a cup for Miss Easton, too.”

  “Oh, yes, that would be lovely, but I’ll take my tea in the other room. I’m sure you and Dr. Whitaker have much to talk about…privately, of course.”

  With that, Linette turned around in the cramped space to walk past him, and to Adam’s surprise, she brushed her gloved fingers against his.

  Yet he knew from her sudden gasp and widened gaze that she hadn’t intended such contact, and she glanced with alarm back at the bed.

  Rose Polkinghorne, clearly having made a miraculous recovery, sat appraising them both with keen interest, which made Linette clasp her hands together and duck her head as she quickly exited the room.

  Adam heard it then, a breathless “Oh, Lord!” as Linette didn’t stop to await her tea, but headed outside with the slamming of the front door, he imagined to wait with Prudie in the carriage.

  “Ais, such a fine-looking girl, the good parson’s daughter, wouldn’t ‘ee agree, Dr. Whitaker? I’ve heard she can’t wait to leave for London for the Season, an’ that she’s been dreaming about it ever since her sister Marguerite had her turn three years past. Ah, but that’s still a few months away. Plenty of time to change her mind…or to have someone change it for her. Come an’ sit, come an’ sit!”

  ***

  “I knew you were the man to come to, Oliver,” Donovan said after downing a good swallow of home-brewed ale. “You don’t miss a thing in Porthleven, my friend, not a thing.”

  “Ais, ‘tes my business to keep my eyes open, as well ‘ee know it, Yer Grace,” the white-bearded sea captain replied. “The two have hardly shown their faces these past three days since they came to the inn, though they’ve taken a likin’ to my Rebecca’s leek an’ pork pie. That shows some more good character, wouldn’t ‘ee say?”

  Donovan nodded at Oliver Trelawny, one of Corie’s most trusted friends from her fair trading days that thankfully, had come to an end not long after their marriage. Oliver had sold his cutter, the Fair Betty, and retired from the illicit smuggling of foreign goods, too, his and his wife’s comfortable quayside inn more than enough now to keep them busy.

  “So he saved your Estelle from drownin’, this young fellow you’re looking for,” Oliver murmured, keeping his voice low no matter they had retreated to the back room to talk out of earshot of the other patrons. “Good thing ‘ee came today because the ship he bought passage on to Bristol is sailing at dusk. I heard him tell his dark-haired friend that he didn’t have enough coin to take them further. Shall I go upstairs with ‘ee, good character or no, just in case he might be harboring a pistol?”

  Donovan shook his head, then drained his mug and rose from the scarred trestle table. “I’ve only come to thank him, nothing more.”

  “Well, if I hear any commotion, I’ll come running with my pistol, ‘ee can be sure, Yer Grace. Corie would ne’er forgive me if anything should happen to ‘ee under my roof!”

  “Good enough, friend. My thanks.” Donovan left the back room without another word and strode past seated patrons, as grizzled as Oliver, who were smoking fragrant tobacco in their pipes and spinning yarns. Old sailors no longer fit for life on the sea, though the salt spray and cold wind still coursed th
rough their veins. Quietly, he made his way up the narrow stairs, although the top two creaked in protest beneath his footsteps.

  “Damnation,” he muttered, wondering if this Prince Valentin might indeed possess a pistol. He had his own weapon tucked into his belt beneath his coat, though he prayed he wouldn’t have to draw it. He sensed the two men he sought were hiding from something or someone, which bespoke danger to him as surely as if he could smell it.

  Once upstairs, the floorboards creaked, too, and the low voices he heard behind the second door flanking the lantern-lit hallway suddenly went silent. He could well imagine they weren’t expecting any visitors other than Rebecca Trelawny or her hired help bringing up some food and drink, but he’d already decided not to rely upon subterfuge to get him inside the door. Instead, he took a deep breath and then knocked firmly.

  “Who’s there?”

  The low demand in lightly accented English added credence at once to Estelle’s tale, and his father-in-law’s. Just those two words alone confirmed to Donovan that the man on the opposite side of the door was a gentleman.

  “Donovan Trent, Duke of Arundale. If you’ll allow me to enter, I wish to speak with you.”

  Another man’s voice, stunned, nervous, uttered something in French, but Donovan only marginally knew the language. A warning of some kind?

  He tensed as a heavy bolt was drawn. The door slowly opened to reveal a lean young man with dark blond hair just as Estelle had described, dressed in a full-sleeved white shirt, dark trousers, and boots, and with features as striking as Lindsay’s husband, Jared Giles.

  “Your Grace, to what do I owe this honor?”

  Donovan didn’t let down his guard, though he saw no pistol leveled at him. The other man, older by half and with dark hair as Oliver had described, stepped backward and looked anxiously from him to his superior. A personal servant, perhaps? Donovan had recognized at once the deference the older man gave to the younger, and focused his attention once again upon Estelle’s rescuer.