Chapter 8

"For my future I have no concern, and as a true philosopher, I never would have any, for I know not what it may be."

Giacomo Casanova

Patrick had brought down trunks from the attic filled with the discarded clothing of Julius's cousins. In them, they had found a pair of Hessians that almost fitted Audrey's small feet. They also found her a shirt, breeches, a waistcoat, and a cutaway coat to wear over it.

They located two beavers from Lord Hays's wardrobe, and Audrey's stockings were serviceable for their new disguises. They were to follow Henry Montague, who frequented far more fashionable districts than the vicar, so their workmen's outfits would fail to blend in if they hung about for too long.

Audrey entered his room with her coat over her arm and her waistcoat hanging loose. Julius, who had been mid pulling on his Hessians, and thankful they had dried since the day of his attack, found himself fascinated by the taut fabric stretched over her full hips. He licked his lips while he battled his thoughts into a box to shut the lid, resolute in raising his eyes, only to find her frowning.

"I cannot reach the back of this waistcoat to tie it," she announced.

"That is the least of our problems," Julius replied, averting his gaze to stare at the ceiling while he tried to gain control over his clamoring lust.

"What?"

It was early, before dawn, and Audrey was a little grumpy. Julius squared his shoulders to deliver the news.

"It … is visible that … you are a female," he croaked out.

He could see Audrey drop her head to peer down at herself, extending her arms out as she tried to determine what he had observed. Julius glanced down, then moved to the window to stare out at the darkened garden below. He was certain he was flushed with the heat that had been ignited at her entrance.

"I do not understand," cried Audrey from behind him.

Several seconds passed while Julius composed himself. "Those are not … the hips of a man, I am … afraid."

"Oh!"

"We must either find another disguise for you or?—"

A booming roll of thunder sounded. Peering up, Julius realized a bank of clouds was blocking the stars to the north in an inexorable march of darkness moving in. He exhaled with relief. If he had to spend the day with Audrey dressed as she was, he would certainly not keep his hands to himself. While he understood his duty was to marry her when they returned to Lord Snarling's home, he had no desire to form an attachment.

An attachment that could lead to breakfast plagued with terse conversation, a gradual splintering of affinity, and the eventual departure of the light, such as happened when his mother had left London behind. It was imperative he maintain some distance between them, even as he admitted that he liked Audrey. He liked her a lot. What was there not to like? He could think of no one else of his acquaintance who would merrily don a disguise and follow him into one of his escapades. She was brave, competent, and?—

Deuce it! I am cataloging all the reasons to grow attached!

"The weather is turning, so you can wear one of my overcoats," he proclaimed. So, thankfully, I cannot leer at your womanly form.

"I am still confused." Audrey's tone was plaintive as she approached him, turning so he might tighten the waistcoat from behind. Julius turned back and dropped his gaze, then swallowed hard. Her arse was round. Alluring. It filled the linen breeches in a manner that would make it difficult for her to sit, considering the unforgiving nature of the fabric. And he was forced to look at it while his bare hands assisted with the waistcoat. The overcoat was the best solution because her breasts were just as compelling—No, Julius!—obvious, he corrected himself, in the gentlemen's attire she was wearing.

"It requires a valet to assist," he responded in a hoarse voice as he commanded his hands to remain on the tapes of the waistcoat. You shall not fondle that arse!

But, ye gods, he really, really wanted to.

"What? No, not that! I fail to comprehend what your disguise is. Are you not simply dressed as Lord Trafford?"

Julius continued his chore, proud of his restraint when he only hesitated for a second to drop his gaze back down to the luscious arse inches away, before stepping away and heading toward his wardrobe for the overcoat he had mentioned. It was a fortunate happenstance that his propensity for spending his allowance on fine clothing meant he had more garments than a person of common sense ought to possess. But he had never been accused of common sense, and heaven help him if he ever was. He would have failed as a gentleman of misadventure if that day arrived.

"Julius?"

He realized he had not responded to her last question, blinking while he tried to recollect what she had said.

"This is last year's fashion. Everyone knows I would not be caught dead in anything so out of style."

Audrey groaned, causing Julius to chuckle. Taking pity, he provided a more thoughtful reply.

"It cannot be helped. The overcoats and beavers will help us blend in, and when we return, we shall be cautious to ensure we are not followed home. It has been several days since my attack, so if we are far from my father's home, that should be sufficient."

"Well, it is fortuitous that the rain is coming so we may button up the overcoats without attracting attention. I suppose if we have to follow Montague into a club, we will keep the coats on."

Julius grinned. Audrey appeared more occupied with the etiquette of wearing an overcoat indoors than with any trepidation to be shadowing a potential killer. "You are not a lady of excellent reputation this morning. Being a gentleman means you make the rules."

"Which is unfair," she grumbled back.

"Ah, but when you are weary of repressive etiquette, there is nothing to stop you from taking a respite as a man."

She glanced at him, her silver eyes sparkling in the glow of the candlelight. "Where there is a will, there is a way."

"Precisely."

Audrey and Juliusarrived on Henry Montague's street at first light. Not that it differed greatly from night, with a thick bank of clouds filling the skies.

Her current disguise was much tighter than the loose-fitting workmen's outfit from the day before. Her neck was tied within the strangling embrace of a snowy cravat, and she could not lower her chin with the starched collar of her crisp shirt. It was all rather uncomfortable, but she supposed it was tolerable if she were to see more of the inner sanctums of men. Not just men—gentlemen. The truly privileged class.

Not that the gentleman at her side boasted privileged airs in private, despite the foppish airs he displayed in public. Julius treated Patrick and Rose with the same sincere interest as he did members of the beau monde. Friendly, irreverent, provocative, but with an underlying warmth that made him immensely popular, if the two servants at Lady Hays's were to judge by. Despite their correct behavior, Rose had been in tears after Julius's fever had broken. Which suggested that both she and her secret husband had been quite distressed about Julius's health despite their calm demeanors. Certainly, any request he put to them was met with immediate compliance, as if they were all too happy to meet his needs.

Audrey herself found she was growing fond of him. She wanted to remain on this adventure with him as long as possible. It was the most fun she had had since her father died, and she had thought that sense of happiness would never return. Yet, here she was, in her clothes of discomfort with excitement energizing her steps.

They walked about on the street, rain drops dampening their shoulders, Julius exclaiming with eagerness when he discovered a coffeehouse on the corner down the block. It was not open yet, but he assured her it should be soon, which provided them with an excuse to loiter.

At around eight o'clock, Montague exited from his front door after a loud spat of rain had receded back to a mild drizzling. Audrey and Julius sprang to their feet, Julius tossing the coin onto the table. Fortunately, Montague walked in their direction, so they waited near the door until he passed, departing to follow him down the street.

Montague walked for a couple of blocks, then turned down a street and knocked on the door of a business. They waited on the corner until he was let in, and then quickly made their way over.

"Dr. Walker," Julius read off the sign.

"It must be a surgery," Audrey responded.

"Then I shall act as lookout and allow you to lead."

Audrey experienced a rush of pleasure. Julius had deferred to her as a healer, and this was yet again confirmation that he took her calling seriously. She hoped the villagers of Stirling would accept her as easily when she returned to treat them without her father. She did not know what her reception would be, considering she was an unmarried woman. She hoped that they would recall the number of times she had been present and assisted when they had been treated, and that the London scandal would fail to reach their ears.

They hurried back down the block, turning the corner to find the alleyway that would lead past the surgery. There they cautiously entered after looking about the street to ensure they were unobserved. Audrey counted the number of buildings until she was relatively certain they stood behind the surgery.

Julius watched the area while she made her way to one of the back windows. It was high up, so she searched about and found a barrel. Beckoning him over, she asked him to move it to the window. Julius lifted her up carefully, Audrey enjoying the sensation of his hands on her waist. She was almost certain he had been thinking about kissing her the night before, and she mulled over the moment when she had gone to sleep in the room down the hall.

Did she want him to kiss her?

What would it feel like?

Was it an inevitable stop on their adventure together?

Audrey shook her head, commanding herself to focus on the task at hand. Peering in the back window, she discovered they had successfully found the treatment room. Montague lay on a table with his stockings and breeches off, his shirt and small clothes all he wore in what must be a chilly room, considering the poor weather.

He was in his forties, she estimated, and he was not in terrible condition, but neither was he in excellent shape. Although not seriously overweight, he had a rounded belly that spoke to rich meals and alcohol. His skin was pale in the dim morning light, which suggested a lack of exercise, and Audrey could hazard a guess that he suffered from gout, given his apparent habits.

The physician was mixing up powders at his desk. In a mortar, he created a paste and prepared bandages with the paste, placing them on a tray before returning to his patient's side. Audrey's stomach knotted with the knowledge of what the physician was doing.

"Butchers," she mumbled, remaining in place to confirm her suspicions.

The physician laid out strips of bandages along Montague's legs, focusing on his knees and ankles, thus confirming it was gout he was being treated for. Audrey grimaced in sympathy, all the while silently berating the bufflehead on the table for following the quack doctor's instructions without considering other options.

Montague's face contorted as the compound seeped into his skin. And it was all the confirmation she needed. Shaking her head, Audrey lowered herself from the barrel and returned to Julius's side, where he leaned against a wall in a nonchalant pose to watch the entrances to the alley.

"We can return home," she murmured in a low voice.

Julius quirked a brown eyebrow in question, but obediently followed her to the end of the alley, where they would not be overheard. Pausing where they would not be seen, Julius spoke.

"What is it?"

"They will be some hours, so it is pointless hanging about."

His expression was curious, and he waited for her to elaborate.

She shook her head in disgust. "That fool is being blistered for what appears to be gout."

Julius appeared genuinely confused, and Audrey realized that the earl's family had always been treated by her father, an intelligent physician who practiced common sense medicine. Not like the butcher whom Montague was paying to take care of him.

"Blistering is when the physician produces blisters across the patient's skin over several hours to treat conditions such as fevers or gout. It is a long and painful procedure which will take up most of the day, by my estimation. The practice should be abandoned because it has never produced a positive result to my knowledge, but the physicians' guild includes too many incompetents who follow whatever they deem to be accepted practice without question despite the empirical evidence. It is why Papa dug up articles of far more successful practices and conducted research of his own."

Julius's expression had turned to one of utter horror. "Egad! What would have happened to me if I had been forced to seek treatment for my knife wound?"

"If you summoned the wrong physician, of whom there are too many to count, bleeding or blistering for the fever despite your loss of blood. That president, Washington, over in America, was finished off by his physicians with a combination of both."

"That is awful!"

Her stomach was still tight from what she had witnessed, as she nodded. Audrey wished she could intercede and lecture the patient on being educated about his own health instead of following some quack's instruction without question. No person should relinquish autonomy over their physical form to engage in dangerous health practices without learning what was involved. There were innumerable drugs employed that were known to produce terrible side effects, even for conditions for which alternative treatments existed. The people of Stirling had been fortunate to have a responsible physician who cared for his patients.

"It is why I must publish my father's research! He wished to educate ordinary people so they could make more informed decisions. If one loses one's health, all else is meaningless, and there are far too many physicians who do not care about their patients. They wish to make coin without regard for the results. Their patients are people with families and obligations, people who need them, yet these quacks are willing to risk their patients' health with nonsensical treatments."

Julius was staring at her in amazement, and Audrey pulled a face. She had been ranting, but this was a subject near and dear to her. There were alternatives—herbalists, midwives, nurses. There were even good physicians, like her father, who were devoted to their solemn duty. Too often, patients accepted the word of the first quack they encountered and did not obtain a second opinion, which was frustrating when Papa and she had to help a patient whose treatment had harmed them far more than the illness they were suffering.

"You are an exceptional woman of integrity, Audrey Gideon. I believe I would like to assist you with your crusade when this murder investigation is over. I have never committed to a cause the way you have."

Audrey blushed, his praise washing over her to settle as a pleasant warmth in the region of her heart.

Heart? Lud!

Julius was stillbemused by the blaze in Audrey's eyes and the passion of her convictions when they eventually reached the mews behind Aunty Gertrude's townhouse. They had taken their time to ensure they were not followed.

She had been heat and power and determination. He had never seen anyone fire off with such an unbending commitment to their principles. It was not her high emotions; it was the logic of the ideas she had presented to him. She knew her subject, and he had been convinced. He would never seek treatment without employing his judgment and would seek a second opinion if he was in any doubt about the options offered.

It was clear why Lord Snarling had favored Dr. Gideon and his daughter for treating his family and staff, and Julius was coming to realize that he had been fortunate his father had protected him from the vagaries of accepted treatments throughout his life. The blistering sounded … well … dreadful. Perhaps even worse than the bloodletting. Minimally, just as torturous.

Once they were in the door, he did not hesitate. He clasped her by the wrist to stop her. She turned in question, looking up into his face with surprise, but she had sealed her fate in the alley behind the surgery.

Ever so slowly, giving her ample opportunity to pull away, he lowered his head as they stared deep into each other's eyes until, after an infinite time, their lips met. Julius remained frozen, savoring the sensation of her plump lips against his as they breathed in unison.

Like tinder flaming, he raised his arms around her and kissed her properly. Her mouth was hot as he coaxed it open so that they might tangle their tongues in intimate contact. She tasted of honey and spearmint. Her inexperience aside, Audrey responded with a ravenous hunger, pressing herself against him as her hands found their way to comb through his hair. Their beavers fell to the ground, but neither of them paid any mind as flames kindled in his loins.

Julius drove her up against the wall of the mews, deepening their kiss even as he sought his sanity. She moaned and he growled with primal triumph as he ground his hips against hers, straying under her overcoat to clasp one of the round buttocks that had tormented and teased him this morning.

The disappointment was gutting when he felt her hands against his ribs, and she pressed him to move away. Stepping back, Julius panted as if he had run a mile at a full sprint. Audrey licked her swollen lips, her hungry gaze never looking away for even a moment until she swallowed.

"I am destined to return to Stirling and … I believe you wish to remain a free man."

She sounded reluctant, her gaze flickering to his lips and the molten desire in her eyes still very much evident. But what she had said was true. This was a temporary interlude. He wished to throw logic to the wind, forget his commitment to remaining uncommitted, and press her against the wall, but …

Damnation …

It was true.