A Debutante In Disguise. Eleanor Webster
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Название: A Debutante In Disguise
Автор: Eleanor Webster
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781474089098
isbn:
After these pronouncements, Dr Jeffers had settled himself with Tony in the library and dedicated himself to his own fluid intake in the form of several brandies.
And Elsie had almost cried when she’d heard she should not drink water or lemonade.
Today she did not look a whit better.
She looked worse.
A lot worse.
Tony could feel the fear. It cut through his numbness. It lined his stomach. It made his mouth dry and his body hollow. Elsie was his only living sibling and the child she carried was his best friend’s heir.
He rang for Mason. ‘Has that new doctor come yet?’ he asked as soon as his man had entered the study.
‘No—sir—but the footman returned and said that he would attend her ladyship.’
Tony nodded. ‘It cannot do any harm to get a second opinion. I would take her up to London, but she begged me not to do so. She said the journey would make her feel too ill, especially in this heat.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I will not have my sister suffer because Dr Jeffers is too busy drinking brandy to properly concentrate on her.’
‘No, my lord.’
‘And you said he was good?’
‘According to the cook’s sister. She spoke quite highly of him, sir.’
‘I am relying on Mrs Greene’s sister?’
‘Mrs Peterson, my lord. Mrs Greene is the housekeeper.’
‘I am relying on the report from a random relative of one of the staff here?’
‘Two, sir. The second footman’s mother had a good report. She didn’t like Dr Jeffers, sir, although you were kind enough to pay for the cost of his visit. Called him foolish, sir.’
Then her doctor is a fool.
He smiled, remembering Miss Barton’s words. ‘The second footman’s mother is not alone in her opinion.’
‘Er—no, sir.’
Tony had felt something yesterday as Miss Barton had brushed by him. He’d experienced a tightening within his stomach and an added level of awareness as she’d skewered him with that bright luminous gaze. It was like a shadow—a reflection of what had been. Or what he had once been capable of feeling.
Before Waterloo, he would have noted her curves, the creaminess of her skin, the elegance of her neck, that russet hair and the firm line of her lips, the bottom lip full and slightly pouted. The very dowdiness of the grey dress almost enhanced her appeal, like an intriguing package, delightfully obscured.
He swore. His hand had jerked, spilling the coffee.
‘My lord?’
‘Clean up this mess. I seem intent on burning my good hand, as well.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘And tell me as soon as that new doctor arrives.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ Mason dabbed at Tony’s hand and at the liquid spilled on the sill.
Tony brushed away his efforts irritably. ‘“Yes” and “no”—is that the extent of your linguistic capabilities?’ he muttered. ‘You sound like a bloody parrot. Go. You know I hate hovering.’
‘Yes, my lord. I mean, no, my lord.’
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