Chapter Three

“I’d no idea they made such attractive physicians!” tittered Fanny, Juliette’s incorrigible maid. In any other household, the girl would likely have been sacked long ago for her overly familiar manner of speaking, but Juliette had always found her amusing and the maid was a genius with a pair of hot tongues so she’d kept her around with strict instructions to stay out of Ethan’s way, lest he catch wind of Juliette’s leniency.

“Hush, Fanny,” Juliette murmured, schooling her features to remain stern…no matter that she completely agreed with the maid’s assessment.

Half of her had expected Dr. McCullom to not follow through on his promise to take time from his schedule to call upon her and review her progress; he was, after all, a very busy man. When his arrival had been announced—and he’d somehow made it past her gatekeeper of a brother!—she’d felt more than a tiny thrill at the imminent prospect of seeing him again.

Were his eyes really that captivating, or had her fanciful imagination taken over her memories?

Juliette hadn’t been disappointed, to say the least.

Then, when he’d spoken to her in all those languages…

As soon as he’d quit the room, she’d hurriedly scribbled down the phonetic spelling of the phrase he’d spoken in Gaelic. Once a child whose fragile health prevented her from playing with other children and now a sheltered woman all but hidden away from most of the world, she always adored a linguistic challenge. It had been hours since the doctor’s departure and she was still skimming the note, trying to figure out how she could decipher the message. Who could possibly speak the language fluently enough to help her translate it?

There was a single curt knock upon her bedchamber door before her brother entered. Ethan was already dressed for dinner, though it was to be only the two of them that evening. It felt like it had been just them forever, especially since their parents’ deaths sixteen years prior. Ethan had taken on the role of an adult far earlier than he should have and, with his natural inclination to studiousness and severity, he’d taken it on with all the gravity of a man at least twice his age.

They shared the same light eyes of their father and thick, dark hair of their mother’s Italian heritage. Juliette’s features were a softer version of her twin’s patrician looks with a strong nose and expressive dark brows. He stood tall and straight as an oak, refusing to bend to the elements and sure in his firmly-rooted place in the world, and he took frequent rides through Hyde Park for air and exercise. There was no doubt her brother was an intimidating man—and not just because of his lofty title. Juliette knew, however, that Ethan had a very deep soft spot for her. He may be overprotective and often frustrating in his manner and rules, but she never forgot that it came from a place of love. They were all they had left in the world.

“I thought I’d see what Dr. McCullom said after his examination,” he said, clasping his hands behind his ramrod-straight back. Juliette tucked the Gaelic note into the book in her lap and closed it.

“Frankly, I am surprised that you weren’t informed.” Or that you hadn’t already asked the housekeeper. As her brother and male guardian, Ethan should have been informed of her well-being. She barely suppressed a smile, knowing in her heart that Dr. McCullom had avoided doing so on purpose.

“The doctor informed Francis that he had another call to make presently and ‘did not have the time to speak with me again.’” It was obvious that Ethan was more than mildly irked by this; he was not a man used to being brushed off. “Can you believe that?” he huffed. “He, a physician, believes his time is more valuable than mine.”

Juliette rolled her eyes at his haughty dramatics. “I am sure Dr. McCullom did, indeed, have another appointment he needed to keep. You and I both know his reputation.” She continued to speak, not giving Ethan a chance to continue grousing. “I am still under instructions to rest.” She nibbled her lower lip, knowing this was a perfect lead-in to the problem she needed to remedy. “I fear I will be unable to travel for my reading society meeting this week,” she sighed pathetically. She had to let Ethan believe her plan was his idea. “And I was so looking forward to it.”

“Well that is quite the shame,” Ethan murmured, having turned his attention to a small porcelain bird upon her dressing table. The finch was taking flight from a twisted branch dripping with delicate flowers. It had been their mother’s. The piece looked so fragile in her brother’s large hand.

“I’ve finished reading the piece and everything, but now I shall have no one to discuss it with,” she sighed.

Ethan frowned and gently set down the statue. “What did you read?”

“Poetry,” she offered, she hoped not too quickly, secretly crossing her fingers and hoping he didn’t ask whose poetry. She wanted to maintain his disillusionment that they only read sweet, fluffy literature suitable for the fragile female mind for as long as possible. Ethan tapped his thumb on his hip.

“Why don’t you invite your reading society here for the meeting? Surely the Duchess of Morton won’t object to moving the meeting just this once given the circumstances. The two of you have grown quite close, have you not?”

Juliette clapped her hands and held them to her chest. “Oh, Ethan! What a brilliant idea!” she gushed. “I wish I had thought of that.” She had…

Pleased that he’d come up with a solution to her predicament and could come to her rescue, her brother’s face split into one of his rare smiles. “How much trouble can a women’s reading society get into?” Quite a bit… “Besides, I’ve plans for Thursday so you needn’t worry about inconveniencing me.” She hadn’t… But she’d had a feeling Ethan was going to be out anyway.

He usually was.

She, on the other hand, counted the hours between her infrequent outings. In fact, the incident precipitating her turned ankle had been a rare occasion during which Ethan had let her out of his sight in public. At the age of six-and-twenty, she was very firmly upon the shelf and should have generally been afforded more freedoms as a spinster, but those rules simply didn’t sit well with Ethan. If anything, he’d become more protective of her over the years and felt it was absurd that a woman should be less monitored as she aged—there were, after all, the same dangers and evils in the world for a girl of sixteen as a woman of twenty-six.

Luckily for Juliette, her brother still believed her insistence that the reading society founded and coordinated by the Duchess of Morton was a simple ladies’ gathering. He knew nothing of their incendiary discussions or how they very often read books usually deemed “unsuitable” or “not intended for gentlewomen of their sensibilities or breeding.” She loved the reading society and the freedom it afforded her, almost as much as she adored the woman who ran it. Lady Morton’s absentee husband allowed her to run practically roughshod over London. The young duchess had founded the club as a way in which to occupy herself with some close friends and carve out her niche in society. A longtime friend of the duchess’s, Juliette had been one of the group’s original members.

For years, they’d gathered together once each week to talk about inappropriate literature, eat, and revel in unchaperoned behavior. Gradually, more like-minded women were invited and their numbers had grown over the years to admit friends and other women who longed for an escape. For sheltered women like Juliette, this reading society was her brief respite from her mundane life. She loved her twin, but she missed the days so long ago now when he’d just been her brother and not responsible for her in every sense. The burden and his title had made him far too serious.

Satisfied with his decision, Ethan quit the room with the promise to come back in twenty minutes to collect her for supper and assist her down the stairs. Excited by the opportunity to host her friends and their reading society, Juliette snatched up a nearby sheaf of paper and jotted off a note to the Duchess of Morton briefly explaining her injury. She kept the details vague because she knew she’d have to retell it all over again to the group anyway. Juliette didn’t worry that Lady Morton would have an objection to the change in venue; she’d much rather their group get together than have an integral member missing due to injury. She hobbled over to the bellpull and rang for Fanny. There were still a few minutes with which she could begin the preparations before Ethan returned to escort her to supper.

∞∞∞

A few days later, her plan firmly in place, Juliette sat comfortably in the front sitting room with her foot propped up on a pillow. Ethan, rather predictably, watched the clock on the mantle until he could dash off without being intercepted by any of her guests. He dropped a quick brotherly kiss atop her head and left as hastily as possible.

Not long after that, Lady Morton was the first to arrive and was quickly followed by a steady stream of the other ladies. They were a motley crew of wives, spinsters, awkward debutantes, and other women who needed a place to belong. Juliette had come to feel this group was her second family. Likewise, they all displayed sincere concern over her injury. It was already three-quarters of an hour into the meeting and not a single book had been opened; the women were far too interested in Juliette’s harrowing tale.

She recounted nearly being crushed beneath the wheels of an oncoming cart, and then being rescued by a strong, handsome Scotsman.

“Did he sweep you off your feet?” asked one of the women, her eyes owlish in awe behind her spectacles.

“What happened next?” demanded another, so invested that she sat so dangerously close to the edge of her chair Juliette feared she might tumble to the ground in a pouf of skirts.

“Ladies,” chuckled Lady Morton, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Lady Juliette cannot very well continue with her story if you keep talking over her. Now,” her golden blond head whipped over to Juliette; “what did he look like?” The devilish tilt to the duchess’s lips was almost intimidating in its intensity. Deciding Lady Morton’s inquiry to be the most pressing, Juliette launched into a description of Dr. McCullom.

“For comparison, I would say he’s of a similar height to my brother, though his build is rather more…rugged.” Her word choice caused a titter amongst the women. That had been an apt description of Dr. McCullom with his broad, imposing build and his large hands. She remembered what it felt like to have his fingers assess her injury, to be swept into his arms as he carried her to the carriage. “His hair was a blend of brown and auburn,” she continued. “And his eyes were dark blue.” She pictured his strong features, deep-set eyes and angular jaw. She’d never felt such a thrill just thinking about a man…to be fair, though, she hadn’t been allowed to be around all that many men with which to have tested this out.

“He sounds positively dangerous!” one of the women squealed.

“Oh no, not at all!” Juliette shook her head. “In fact, it turned out that he was a physician. He so kindly treated my ankle after rescuing me.”

“A Scottish physician?” inquired the fiery-haired lady seated beside Lady Morton on the sofa. Of course, this would interest Lady Sommerfeld; she was of Scottish heritage on her mother’s side and had more than a passing interest in medicine. Juliette nodded enthusiastically.

“He wound up being the Dr. Ian McCullom! The very one!”

Lady Sommerfeld’s eyes lit up and her lips curled into a blindingly beautiful smile. “I believe your story, Lady Juliette, and I’m finding the image of Ian as a knight in shining armor to be quite fascinating. I think it suits his personality quite well.”? Ian? Suits his personality?

Did the viscountess know Dr. McCullom personally? Intimately?

Juliette’s stomach plummeted to the floor. As if sensing the shift, Lady Sommerfeld clarified. “I’ve known him for years! He studied medicine beneath my uncle when I lived in Edinburough.” The explanation only made Juliette feel momentarily better before mortification took over. Here she’d been gossiping and speaking of a man and entirely ignorant of the fact that one of his longtime friends was sitting only feet away. Juliette’s cheeks flared; she suddenly wished for a miraculous recovery of her ankle because she wanted nothing more than to dash from the room and bury her head in her bed.

“He is also our personal physician,” added Mrs. Odette Stratford, Lady Sommerfeld’s sister-in-law. She was one of the newer members of their fold, though she’d likely be retiring for confinement soon. She was a petite, curvaceous woman and there was no hiding her ripe, rounded stomach any longer.

“Ian is the only one we trust with the care of our families,” Lady Sommerfeld supplied.

They were always so sweet, these ladies, so they did their best to ease Juliette’s embarrassment.

“Objectively, I must agree he is quite dashing,” Mrs. Stratford smiled. “Though no one better say a word to my husband.” She shot a warning glance to the rest of the women. “I don’t blame you one bit for finding him attractive.”

Suddenly, Lady Sommerfeld’s brows rose and her lips formed into a grin all of them had long since learned boded for something mischievous. “You know, Lady Juliette…Ian is coming to dinner next Friday…perhaps you and the earl should attend as well.” Juliette’s cheeks burned furiously when she realized this was an attempt to throw her back together with Dr. McCullom. Before her mind could form a response, however, Lady Morton jumped on board.

“At the risk of being unbelievably rude, would you be willing to add another place setting?” the duchess gave an exaggerated bat of her eyes. “Surely you need one more woman to complete your number for dinner? I simply have to meet this man—this brilliant physician who is apparently also incredibly handsome.”

“You’re already married,” interjected another woman good-naturedly; “leave the eligible men for the unattached women!” This earned a collective giggle, even from Juliette. Lady Morton smiled easily and flicked the comment away.

“Pish. My husband hasn’t been in England in years anyway.” She spoke flippantly, but all of them knew Lady Morton would never be unfaithful to her husband, no matter that he hadn’t shown his face since the wedding ceremony…no matter that the tabloids were rife with the duke’s scandalous behavior.

“Well, Lady Juliette?” Lady Sommerfeld reiterated her invitation. “Shall we count you and the earl amongst our numbers?”

“I don’t know…” Juliette worried her lip. “Ethan and Dr. McCullom didn’t exactly hit it off well at their first meeting.” There was a shared glance between Lady Sommerfeld and Mrs. Stratford.

“ That we can believe,” said the red-haired woman. They shared a chuckle. “Despite having been his physician for several years now, Ian and my husband still butt heads like rams attempting to assert their dominance.”?“Really?” Juliette’s eyes widened.

Mrs. Stratford snickered and sat back in her chair. “Lord Sommerfeld still hasn’t gotten over the fact that Dr. McCullom was in love with Meredith.”

Juliette gasped and Lady Sommerfeld’s head snapped to her sister-in-law.

“Wherever did you hear that?” she demanded.

“Why, Lily of course,” Mrs. Stratford explained with a Gallic shrug. Lily was the third Stratford sibling and the only female. She had married Baron Shefford and they and their family spent most of the year on their estate in Kent.

Lady Sommerfeld rolled her indigo eyes. “I assure you, Ian is simply a dear friend and behaves in only the most proper of manners. Do think about the invitation, Lady Juliette; if nothing more than as a way to get out of this house after being cooped up with your injury.”

“Thank you. I will certainly think on it.” Who knew? Maybe Dr. McCullom would be pleased to see her again…he’d already gone out of his way to see her once. And maybe she could present him with a completed translation of the Gaelic phrase he’d left with her; surely he’d find that impressive.