Chapter 19

nineteen

P ERRY GLANCED AT Edith working at the typewriter. For someone who had never used one, she learnt fast, and he wanted the letter to his uncle to be as formal and clear as possible. No handwriting.

“How are you doing?” he asked, pausing from dictating the letter.

“It’s not easy, but if I go slowly, I don’t make mistakes.”

“I think we’ve finished. Just add a salutation, and I’ll sign it.”

She stopped beating the keys. “Done.” She pulled the page out of the machine. “Short but polite. Neville won’t have any reasons to complain.”

Perry signed the letter and sealed it in an envelope. “I’m sure he’ll find one.” He rose, letter in hand, to pull the cord to summon the butler.

Mason appeared in a moment. “My lord.”

He handed him the envelope. “This needs to be delivered with urgency.”

Mason bowed and left as quietly as he’d come.

After that, he had another subject to discuss with Edith. She gathered the pieces of paper in a neat stack, and he got lost admiring her elegant hands. If she wanted, those hands would save many lives when she became a surgeon.

“Will you join me in my personal parlour for a cup of tea?” he asked.

A little crease furrowed the space between her eyebrows. “Of course. You sound serious.”

“I am.”

They left the study and went upstairs in silence. Silence aside from Oliver’s voice echoing from downstairs.

“I can’t find my catgut. Has anyone seen it?”

Perry sat in the plush armchair in front of the covered Star Maiden. “I want to talk to you about what happened the other night.”

She took the sofa. “The conservatory.”

He took a moment to consider his words because that kiss meant a lot to him. He wanted to court her properly, ask her father’s permission, and see her regularly, not just to work in his study. After that, they might get engaged if she agreed. He hoped she would because the warm, fluttery feeling in his chest couldn’t be simply attraction or friendship. He cared about her. A lot.

“I don’t want to…” he stammered. Great. The absolute worst moment for his speech to become hesitant.

“Perry.” She reached out from the sofa to put a hand on his. “You don’t have to say anything. That kiss was nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” He ignored the quick pang in his chest.

“I mean, it was special, but we don’t have to get married because of a kiss. It happened, and it was wonderful, but you don’t have to feel responsible for my reputation or worry about my delicate feelings. It wasn’t my first kiss. I’m not some young, blushing debutante who needs protection from a scoundrel or a rake.” She laughed. “I might be considered a lady rake.”

“Ah…” That kiss had been everything for him.

“Do not worry about me,” she said.

“I do worry about you. I care about you.” That was why his heart broke a little.

“I know, and I’m grateful for that.” She squeezed his hand. “But see, I don’t care about finding a husband. What happened in the conservatory won’t ruin my chances of getting married because I’m not interested. Marianne has always wanted to be a wife and a mother. Not me.”

That wasn’t how he’d planned the conversation to go.

“It’s that…I mean I took some liberties in the conservatory,” he said.

No, that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. Not like that. But when his speech stumbled, his control diminished. He’d meant to ask her what her opinion on a proper courtship would be. She wasn’t interested in marriage, but her opinion might change if he courted her.

She removed her hand. “I enjoyed the kiss and was more than willing to be kissed. If you took liberties, it was because I let you. In fact, I wouldn’t mind being kissed again. Would you kiss me again?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. Curious how he didn’t stammer now.

She patted the space next to her on the sofa. “Come here.”

Anticipation caused his pulse to spike as he sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.

“Kiss me, Perry. Hard.”

The headache vanished when he cupped her face and kissed her. Her lips against his felt too good. He did as told and devoured her mouth while holding her head. The kiss was a battle for dominance among clashes of lips and teeth.

They kissed open-mouthed when she invited him in. The tension bothering him was silenced by a shot of pure pleasure rushing down his body. Sod his proposal for now. He wanted to kiss her and get lost in her softness.

He stroked her thigh through the layers of her skirt. When he reached her hip, he pulled her closer, and she sat on his lap. The jumble of sensations the contact with her ignited in him was almost laughable.

Putting a firm hand on her nape, he deepened the kiss, caressing her tongue with his, exploring, making her his. A little moan came out of her, and he captured it with his kiss.

She straddled him in a bold move that had him shivering with need. When she rolled her hips and rubbed against him, his trousers became uncomfortable. She held his face in a savage grip, and he was more than happy to return her passion.

He wanted more than a kiss. He wanted to worship her lovely body and make her feel all the pleasure he could give her. But when she slid a hand between them, he stopped her. If she touched him, he’d take her on that very sofa.

Breaking the kiss required every ounce of his strength. “Edith.” He sounded breathless.

“Yes?” She shifted her hips back and forth, tormenting him.

With her lips swollen from the kiss and her eyes glowing from within, she looked exactly like the Star Maiden.

I want more .

Three easy words that scared him. Not because he was afraid of what he felt, but because she wasn’t ready to hear them, and he wasn’t ready to hear her no, thank you .

He held her face, memorising every single line, curve, and feature of it. “Hold me. Just that.”

Each word required a ridiculous amount of energy and concentration as the headache pounded with renewed strength, but this time his condition had nothing to do with it.

She caressed his cheek with too much tenderness. The caress tasted like a goodbye. “Of course.”

Then she hugged him with desperation as if fearing he would vanish into thin air in a moment. He held her back, inhaling her flowery scent and getting drunk on her sweetness.

Stealing kisses was pointless when she was stealing his heart.

Perry’s words kept echoing in Edith’s mind, and each time they rumbled louder, making their way through her thoughts.

Hold me . It sounded like a prayer.

She replayed their last conversation as she arranged the bottles of the recently delivered medicinal drugs in the dispensary. Apparently, new antipyretics to reduce fever were becoming popular replacements for laudanum.

Focusing on the labels was difficult though. Kissing Perry was…special for lack of a better word. He was an excellent kisser, passionate and determined, but that wasn’t the reason a quiver started in her chest at the thought of kissing him again.

He cared for her, and she cared for him. Was that all? Once, she’d enjoyed a tumble with a man who had really cared for her. There was nothing new about the act.

But Perry was different. He’d tensed when she’d told him the kiss had been nothing. She’d made a mistake, thinking he’d wanted to be reassured she didn’t expect him to marry her.

To her defence, she’d had many similar conversations with men the day after a tumble. The awkward silence, the stumbling words, the fleeting glances—just to tell her, ‘It was enjoyable, but I don’t want to court you, least of all marry you,’ which was fine with her.

She’d wanted to put Perry out of his misery by anticipating his ‘I don’t want to marry you’ speech, but the joke was on her because she’d disappointed him, which made her wonder what he’d wanted to tell her or hear.

“Edith.” Her father’s rumbling voice jolted her.

She straightened, almost losing her grip on a bottle, quickly wondering if she’d done something to anger him. “Father, what are you doing here?”

His eyebrows knit together as he eyed the bottles of morphia. “I came here for a consultation. How is your work for Lord Ravenscroft going?”

“Very well.”

His harsh expression hardened further. “The London School of Medicine for Women has closed for enrolment.”

To be honest, she wasn’t thinking about that.

A long exhale came out of him. “If you want to enrol, you still have a chance to do so. You’ll have to find a qualified teacher, approved by the college, to take the admission test with, in private. You’ll start your classes late, but you aren’t completely ignorant of medical science. A late start shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

She pressed her lips together. “We have had this conversation many times, Father.”

She expected the usual outburst. You can’t throw away your future like that. You disappoint me. You wasted years of studying … and so forth.

Instead, he released a breath and slouched as if caught by sudden fatigue. He seemed to have grown old in a moment. He didn’t say anything and left the room, nearly dragging his feet.

For some reason, his silence and quiet dejection hurt more than his outbursts. It was as if he’d given up on her.

She rubbed an aching spot in her chest. No, she couldn’t go to medical school only to make her father happy. If she had to start a medical career, or any other career, it would be because she really wanted it. But there was something else she wanted to discuss with him.

She followed him. “Father.”

He stopped and turned around.

“I wanted to talk to you about a patient, Mrs. Richards. She was discharged a few days ago,” she said all in one breath. “She sustained severe head trauma, similar to what Perry endured. She needs help with her physical exercises and to buy drugs. I think she’s eligible for funded care. She needs it.”

“Did a doctor visit Mrs. Richards and give a diagnosis and a prognosis on her condition?”

“No. I spent some time with her and noticed the similarities between her case and Perry’s. She’s a seamstress, and her livelihood depends on her ability to move her hands.”

He looked like an executioner. “I understand, but since you aren’t qualified to provide a diagnosis, your words have little meaning. If the doctor who followed her care doesn’t believe the patient needs anything else, then there isn’t anything I can do.”

“Father, please. She needs help.” She kept her voice low as a group of nurses passed by.

“You’re a volunteer in a dispensary.”

“Don’t use Mrs. Richards’s condition to punish me.”

A muscle in his jaw contracted. “I’m a doctor, and I’m doing my job. You do yours.” He spun towards the exit and left her in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s unfair,” she said to his retreating back.

Frustration bothered her when she returned home. If Father didn’t want to help, she might ask Perry. He would help Mrs. Richards. Although Father had a point when he said Edith wasn’t qualified. Mrs. Richards’s condition could be less serious than Edith thought. She didn’t have any clinical results to support her claim aside from her instinct.

She had barely time to enter her house and hand her coat to the maid when a knock came from the door.

Daphne’s smiling face came into view when Edith opened the door.

“Edith.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m not sure I want to talk to you.”

Daphne brushed past her and entered. “You aren’t still angry with me for the story of the painting, are you?”

“No, I just need to change a few things in my life.”

“Since when are you so pesky?” She leant against the wall, disregarding her bustle. “Valentine and I are going to a dinner party tonight.”

“I’m not coming.”

The words came out of Edith’s mouth before she could think. But she didn’t regret them. The affair with the painting had been a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

“Neville will be there, too.”

Edith folded her arms across her chest. “One more reason for me not to come.”

Daphne scrunched up her face. “You lost a bet. I think you should give him what he wants.”

“And I think you should leave.”

Daphne burst out laughing. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” She held the door open. “I have no intention of going anywhere or being anywhere near Neville.”

Daphne pushed herself from the wall and walked to the door with measured steps while keeping her sharp stare on Edith. “Is it because of Perry?”

“Please, Daphne, leave.”

Her eyebrows spiked. “I would give Neville what he wants if I were you. He can be quite frightening when provoked. Not to mention that he’s going to be the next Earl of Ravenscroft soon.”

“No, Perry isn’t going to pass his title to Neville.”

“He will, and Neville will get everything. Ask yourself if you want to remain on the side of the loser or be with the winner.” She patted Edith’s cheek before heading for the entry hall.

Edith closed the door and leant against it. Despite the bravado she’d shown when she’d been with Perry, she was worried; she couldn’t deny it. And what was all that talking about Perry being the loser? As if it mattered. She would always remain by his side.