The Gentleman Physician: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 2)

by Sally Britton

  He has likely chosen a lady and only wished me to understand, to make certain I harbored no feelings for him. Julia covered her mouth and turned away. She waited there until she heard the front door open and shut on the doctor and his friends. Then she rushed upstairs, trying with each step to keep her emotions at bay a little longer.

  Really, she ought to have suspected he would have a lady in his life. If not a wife, then someone he cared for. Nathaniel Hastings remained kind, loyal, honorable, and everything a woman might want in a companion. Everything one would want in a husband.

  Julia knew she could never allow herself to dream of him again. Not when his heart belonged to another.

  Chapter Nine

  Once a week, Nathaniel met Timothy Olivier for luncheon at one of the many tearooms in Bath. Their favorite was The White Fountain. It purported to be one of the oldest establishments in town and offered a selection of bottled water from different years in the city’s history. Timothy and Nathaniel contented themselves with coffee, soup, and sandwiches.

  “I cannot believe you actually spoke to Miss Devon,” Timothy said around his cup of coffee. “And that she didn’t throw you out on your ear.”

  “You are the one who told me to confront her.” Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Why would you advise me to do so if you thought it would end poorly for me?”

  “Because it’s what I would do.” Timothy lowered his cup to its place on the table. “But you’re always careful, Nate. I didn’t think you’d ever dream of giving her a piece of your mind.”

  “Well, I have. But with the utmost respect.” Despite the truthfulness of this statement, Nathaniel felt uneasy every time he thought of standing there, in that darkened study, forcing his words upon her. He had expected to feel better, and he had, for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Following that, every time he thought on the one-sided conversation, he could only remember how hard she’d tried not to look at him, how stiff she’d stood, and the pained expression on her face.

  But why would his words cause her any pain?

  “Good. With that out of the way, you can begin your search for a wife.”

  Nathaniel’s attention returned swiftly to his friend and he sat back in his spindly little chair, astonishment overtaking him. “I can begin what?”

  “You heard every word I said. You can find yourself a wife.” Timothy grinned and took a healthy bite from a sandwich.

  “I think whatever injury caused your little scrape may have addled your brain,” Nathaniel said, affecting a tone of disinterest. “I may need to examine you further and ask your wife how long you’ve been spouting nonsense.”

  Timothy rolled his eyes but put one hand up to trace the stitches over his eye. “She will not help you much. I’m sure Mary will claim I’ve been spouting nonsense since the day we met.”

  Nathaniel chuckled, knowing the nature of Timothy’s wife well enough to guess the truth of that statement. “More than likely, she’ll be right.”

  His friend waved a hand to dismiss the jest. “You cannot change the subject. I am in earnest. You must put this Miss Devon business behind you and find a real companion, a woman who might help you in your endeavors as a doctor. Someone who would be willing to make Bath her permanent home. Preferably someone Mary would like, too, so that we might leave them closeted together while we continue in our usual way.”

  “I think your list of requirements in a woman is longer than mine,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head ruefully. Though his friend’s manner amused him, Nathaniel had been thinking along similar lines for some time. But he often put away such thoughts as impossible, impractical, or ill-timed.

  “Ah-ha.” Timothy raised a finger and pointed accusingly towards Nathaniel’s chest. “You have a list. Excellent. This means I won’t have to prod you to the altar.” He clapped his hands together, causing the nearest pair of diners to start and cast accusing glances their way. Timothy didn’t notice.

  “Were you planning on taking such action?”

  “Yes, of course. What else are friends for?” Timothy sat up straighter and raised a napkin to his lips. “What woman most matches your ideal at present? You had favorable things to say about that woman you took to the concert. What was her name? Miss Faith or Miss Felicity, or some such thing? It started with F.”

  Nathaniel took up his cup again. “Miss Felicity Rochester. She is a charming woman, but alas, her heart is spoken for.” He smiled behind the rim of the porcelain. “By a gentleman in her home county of Dorset.”

  “Blast.” Timothy spoke the word sharply, again earning the displeased glares from their dining neighbors. “She seemed perfect. Are you certain she wouldn’t change her mind about the fellow? Throw him over for you?”

  “I don’t think so.” Nathaniel chuckled and turned his attention to his bowl of soup. The warm food would have to tide him over until he finished the remainder of his appointments, when he would take himself home to whatever dinner his neighbor had made for him. For a small fee, the family who rented the rooms next to his always had their cook prepare extra portions for his dinner, in the event he was not invited by any of his patrons to dine at their homes.

  “Then you must keep your eyes open for a likely candidate and I will do the same. Mary will help, too, of course.” Timothy pursed his lips, his expression more thoughtful and serious than before. “All jesting aside, Nate, I think you need someone in your life. Someone aside from me and Mary.”

  To this point, Nathaniel had not realized his friend’s inquest stemmed from true concern. He allowed a measure of gravity into his tone when he spoke.

  “Thank you for your concern, Tim. But I am well enough. When the time is right, when I find a suitable lady, I will do my best to obtain her hand. But in all of this, you haven’t considered one thing.”

  “Really? I thought I was thorough enough.” The barrister tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “What did I miss?”

  “Suppose I find the perfect woman for the position of my wife and she will not have me?” Though he said the words lightly, Nathaniel felt the familiar fear tug at his heart. Julia had been perfect, in every way.

  “Then she is not right for you.” Timothy finished off his sandwich and pushed back from the table. “And you will keep searching.”

  Nathaniel sighed and stood as well, tossing a few coins onto the table to cover the cost of the meal. “Bachelorhood isn’t terrible.”

  “Not for the men who do it right. But you, my friend, only go from one invalid to another, and never see anyone socially.” They collected their coats and hats from a servant, then Timothy led the way from the tearoom and onto the street.

  “I am well enough.” Nathaniel reached out to clasp his friend’s hand.

  “It is well meant concern,” Timothy said with a shrug.

  “I know. And I’m thankful for it. But you worry more than a debutante’s mother.”

  They both laughed and went their separate ways, but Nathaniel carried the conversation with him for some time. Try as he might to forget about it, he understood where Timothy’s concern came from, and his friend was right. Nathaniel, for all that he kept busy going about town from one patient to another, remained alone, and lonely. His rented rooms were too quiet, and often too cold, when he returned to them at the end of each day. He lived modestly, saving his pennies and pounds, hoping for better days ahead. But how would those better days ever come if he kept his head buried in work and his heart locked away?

  The image of Julia came to him again, but not as she’d been at the baron’s home. He remembered instead the last time he’d spoken to her in London, at one of their favorite parks.

  “I asked your father for your hand,” he’d said, peering down at his shoes, half-ashamed of the man’s answer. “He laughed in my face and told me you would never have me. He said you were meant for better things and a better man. He said other things, too, not fit for a lady’s ears. But I must know, Julia. Do you see a future between us?” He
had finally glanced up, into her beautiful brown eyes.

  Her face had been pale, washed of all natural color, and her eyes wide.

  “You spoke to him? You told him of our meetings?”

  “I told him I had met you in society, many times.” His humiliation fresh, it had been only too natural for him to recognize what her words must mean. “You did not wish him to know about me?”

  “No.” Julia closed her eyes and half-turned away. “I knew he could never like you. I wish you would have told me. I would have prevented you going to him.”

  Her words had crushed his already bruised pride. “Then you do not feel as I do,” he’d said. “But why, Julia? Why would you allow me to walk so often with you, dance with you, share my hopes with you? Why, if you knew we could never be?”

  Julia’s eyes opened and she twisted around to look at him, her demeanor severe and her lips pressed tightly together until she spoke. “I thought—that is to say, I enjoyed your friendship. You are a kind man, Mr. Hastings. A good man. But those things are not enough, could never be enough, for the man I must have as husband. I am meant to marry a title or a fortune.”

  Her words had shocked him. In all their time together, she never indicated an interest in such things. She had laughed with him at the pompous and elite of London, hadn’t she? She’d agreed with him about the foolishness of English society placing more value on a man’s genealogy than his character.

  “I don’t understand,” he’d said, trying to make sense of the conversation, reconciling his image of Julia Devon with the words she spoke to him.

  The young woman, only eighteen years of age, had straightened her posture, clenched her gloved hands at her side, and delivered a speech that smote his heart and left him shattered. Every word pierced him more efficiently and accurately than a yeoman with a longbow could’ve managed.

  Nathaniel came to himself, putting the past away from him, and found he had been walking in the wrong direction for some time. He shook his head fiercely, clearing the memories away, and took a deep breath of the cold. He had not thought on his past with Julia in such detail for a long while, but seeing her with nearly every visit to the baron’s home, the memories flooded back, and most of the emotions with them.

  I cannot allow this, he thought, turning abruptly to take the correct path, ignoring the curious stare of a gentleman who’d been walking behind him. I told Julia I am a whole person, no longer troubled by the injuries she caused me.

  Nathaniel put aside the gentle whispers of his heart, and what they meant: he had lied.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  My Dearest Rebecca,

  I must tell you how glad I am to have received your letter, and I am delighted that Aunt Jacqueline is not as terrible an ogre as you expected. I always found her to be a very practical woman, not given to dramatic behavior or tyrannical decrees. While she will do all she can to mold you into her ideal young woman, she is fair and her rules make a great deal of sense. Remember to be respectful to her and you will get along well enough.

  I am glad you have found your way to a lending library, and with little wasted time. While I cannot advise deception, I do recommend you avoid telling our aunt of every title you read, and always try to have at least one book on hand that she and our father would approve of.

  I do not have a great deal of news to share. The Baron will not recover, I am afraid, though he has received the best medical care available.

  Julia’s pen nearly dropped a large drop of ink on the paper when she paused overlong at the end of that sentence. She took in a deep breath and laid the writing utensil down, trying to form her next thought. What could she possibly say to her youngest sister about all that had transpired? Absolutely nothing. Though she longed to tell someone. She could not burden Virginia, and she had no friends she trusted well enough to tell.

  Keeping all her thoughts and feelings to herself, especially with Nathaniel near at hand, was becoming difficult.

  She stepped away from the little table in her room and began to pace. Who could she confide in?

  “Christine,” she whispered out loud, her eyes widening. How could she not have thought of her married sister?

  Before she could finish her letter to Rebecca, she must pour her heart out to Christine. Though the middle sister had never shown a great penchant for romance before, she certainly had her share of it now. Christine had done the impossible, for a Devon, and married for love. It had been a near thing, and the catalyst for Julia and Rebecca’s exile from their home. But Julia admired her younger sister for following her heart.

  Christine was the only one, aside from her father and Aunt Jacqueline, who knew of Julia’s unfortunate past with Nathaniel.

  Julia returned to the table and brought a clean sheet of paper out from the drawer. She prepared her pen and began, writing with more haste than neatness, hurrying to relay the information to someone who might care for her.

  Dear Christine,

  First, I must send you my love. I hope you are happy as a bride and that your husband continues to fill your days with joy. Second, I will assure you that I am well in body. Cousin Virginia is considerate and a gracious hostess, even given all that weighs upon her. I am afraid her husband will not be upon this earth much longer. He has received the best of care, but his doctor says the condition is irreversible and we must prepare ourselves to say goodbye.

  It is because of the doctor that I write to you. I have no one else to tell, no one with whom I can share my feelings and concerns on this most tender matter. Christine, this doctor I mention is none other than the N.H. I named to you, not long before your marriage, as the man I hoped would be mine. I did not know he was in Bath, or that he obtained his dream of practicing as a physician, but he is here, and he is often in our cousin’s home.

  Julia wrote, in as few words as possible, of their interactions. She kept her script tiny but managed to not cross her words. At last she came to the part most important to her. The hard thing she must confide.

  Seeing N. again has brought him fully back into my thoughts. I cannot sleep without dreaming of times gone by. After our last meeting, I know I have not had the same effect on him. Remembering how we parted, years ago, I want nothing more than to prove to him I am not the heartless woman he imagines me to be. Yes, I hurt him. But he does not understand why. I wish to redeem myself in his eyes, but to what end? Is this prideful foolishness? Would I only be justifying myself?

  You are my only confidant, my only adviser, on this matter. I anxiously await your reply.

  She finished the letter with her love, signed her name with a flourish, and felt well enough again to finish her letter to Rebecca. That task accomplished, Julia left her room, in search of something with which to occupy her mind and hands.

  The boys were occupied in the nursery, taking a day of rest. Nathaniel had come back yesterday morning, as promised. Julia had been careful to be busy in another part of the house when he arrived and left. Phillip had come to find her after, assuring her of his little brother’s clean bill of health, including an absence of fever.

  Edward’s cough had returned in the morning, been treated, and he spent the remainder of the day wanting to get out of bed to play with his brother. The cough came back at night, as Nathaniel had predicted, but the family treated it with greater ease.

  Julia sought out Virginia and found her in her upstairs sitting room, holding her sewing limply in her lap, staring at nothing.

  “Ginny,” she said softly from the doorway, trying not to startle her cousin. “What can I do?”

  Virginia blinked and stared down at her sewing, then released a quick laugh. “Oh, I don’t know, Julia. I am afraid it’s been a difficult morning for me. It’s too quiet. Charles told me I could not sit with him while he sleeps. And he sleeps a great deal.”

  “The laudanum?” Julia asked quietly, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. “Is his pain terrible?”

  Virginia sighed and nodded, putting her han
d up to her temple. “Without the help, yes. He says he feels as if there is a vise around his chest, tightening all the time.” She swallowed and raised her eyes upward, only allowing herself to focus on the ceiling as she brought her emotion under control.

  “Would you like to speak of something else?”

  “Please.” Virginia’s smile, obviously falsified, meant Julia must attempt the same.

  She did have something she wished to speak about. “I have been thinking about what you said, about finding a position as a companion or governess. I think I should like to be a governess. The more time I spend with your boys, the more certain I become. Helping children to learn, to experience the world around them, entices me. “

  Virginia brightened, at least a touch. “I feel the same when I am with them. There is nothing better than encouraging them to learn and go on their adventures. I think you could do well in that position. Except for one thing you may not have thought of.”

  “What would that be?” Julia asked, sitting down at last, across from her cousin. “I have an excellent education, a great deal of patience, and I enjoy children’s games, conversations, and questions.”

  The other woman laughed. “But Julia, you are too pretty to be a governess.”

  “What?” Of all the possible protests she had considered her cousin, or anyone else, making about her decision, that was not what she thought would be said first. “Whatever do you mean? What have my looks to do with anything?”

  “You may have a hard time finding a situation to suit, where a mother will not mind an unattached woman as pretty as you under her roof. I am afraid that thought occurred to me some time ago, but as we have not discussed the idea of employment, I did not voice it.” Virginia lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “I do not say it is impossible. Just that it will be difficult.”

  Julia’s shoulders dropped and she groaned. “I did not think on that at all. But that is why governesses tend toward plainness, I suppose.”