Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

Nigel

W hat in God's name is my brother doing?

Nigel stared slack jawed as Robert tried to charm Miss Fitzroy. Robert gestured to the seats, clearly encouraging her to sit so he could perch beside her.

"Oh, thank you." Miss Fitzroy was wrongfooted as she took her seat, glancing at Nigel.

He wished he could communicate with her silently not to sit, but what could he say? If he shouted, ‘stay away from my brother!' it might have been a little too obvious.

Why do I even wish her to stay away from him?

Nigel stood beside the pair as they sat together, and Miss Fitzroy poured out tea for the two of them.

"You live in London then?" she asked, clearly trying to politely make conversation.

"I do. I am a great lover of the ton life. London has so many attractions to offer too." Robert smiled, his wide lips taking over his features. "And what do you think of it?"

"I think it is alive with energy, but it is the people that interest me so much." She poured out a third cup of tea and easily passed the cup to Nigel. He took it with surprise. She could have easily not included him, but she made the effort to do so.

"Thank you," he murmured, aware of the way their fingers brushed on the saucer. To his amazement, she hadn't pulled back, and there was a small thrill that passed through his body with that touch.

"Oh yes, the people are fascinating too," Robert said with sudden eagerness. He clearly tried to appeal to Miss Fitzroy by pretending to be interested in what she was interested in.

Nigel sighed, rather loudly, earning his brother's attention who subtly tried to stand on his foot to quieten him. Fortunately, Nigel saw it coming and stepped to the side.

"Have you yet been to Somerset gallery, Miss Fitzroy?" As Robert launched into a great detailed description of the gallery, not giving Miss Fitzroy a chance to answer his question, Nigel hid his smirk of amusement behind his teacup.

She will not be interested in that. She thinks of people, not artwork!

Just as he had expected, Miss Fitzroy looked away, examining people nearby, rather than paying attention to Robert. Nigel's smile grew at her disinterest.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why Robert's interest bothered him. Perhaps it was because Robert was so plainly interested in her now that he had discovered she was the daughter of a baron. He had not taken much notice of her at this tea beforehand.

"Forgive me, Mr. Beille," Miss Fitzroy said with ease as he reached the end of his discussion, "but I must admit a lack of understanding when it comes to Somerset gallery. I have been known to paint."

"You do?" Nigel said in surprise. She looked at him with a humored smile, and he softened his voice. "I mean, your cousin never said."

"No. I paint people though, rather than landscapes. The judgement of one's face, the recreation of it, it can bring out someone's character to life so completely. That is what I find so interesting," she explained.

"Fascinating," Nigel agreed with her.

"Yes, I quite agree." Robert leaned forward, trying to capture her attention once again.

Nigel's hand tightened around his teacup in anger. Robert had had much attention from ladies his entire adult life. For some reason, Nigel didn't want him to have Miss Fitzroy's attention now.

"Doctor Beille? May I borrow you for a minute?" Lady Georgiana appeared at his side.

Nigel didn't answer at first. He longed to stay with Miss Fitzroy, to see her continue to spurn Robert's attentions, for it would at least give him some amusement, but he could not refuse a patient.

"Of course." Nigel bowed to Miss Fitzroy, noting the way her eyes lingered on him as he walked away with Lady Georgiana.

Why does she look at me in such a manner? What does that mean?

Nigel spent the next half an hour trapped in conversation with Lady Georgiana and various friends who all subtly tried to ask his advice on medical matters. He gave what advice he could, though in his distracted state, he managed two more cups of tea in that short amount of time, using the opportunity to drink to give him the chance to look across the room. He watched Miss Fitzroy, growing increasingly irked with the attention she received.

Not only did Robert hang at her side, like a persistent budgerigar, pecking and wanting her approval, but other gentlemen moved toward her too. When she nearly dropped her cake fork, one of the men was there to catch it for her. They laughed off her clumsiness, unaffected by it.

Do they find it as endearing as I do?

"Doctor, are you quite well?" Lady Georgiana asked as a couple of her friends walked off to find others to talk to. "You seem perturbed?"

"I am quite well. My apologies, I am just a little distracted this afternoon. I can't imagine why." He looked at Miss Fitzroy again. Something she said earned a laugh from both Robert and another gentleman beside her, and Nigel longed to know what the jest was.

"Can you not?" Lady Georgiana said with clear humor. Nigel looked at her, uncertain if she had seen the eagerness with which he was staring at her cousin. "I take it your brother is irking you a little today?"

"Ah, yes. Yes, that's exactly what it is," he murmured hurriedly, rather relieved she had mistaken his stare for his brother. "If you would excuse me, my Lady, I must have another word with my brother before I depart for the day."

"Of course. Go to him, Doctor." She smiled and waved him off.

Nigel hurried across the room, self-consciously adjusting his cravat and his waistcoat, trying to make them lay a little flatter before he reached the group. Some of the other men had now been intercepted, and there was just Robert and one other gentleman hanging at her side.

"Robert?" Nigel stopped behind his brother, leaning down toward him.

"What is it, Brother?" Robert said with laughter. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm taken up by Lady Georgiana's cousin at present. You are quite captivating, Miss Fitzroy. If you will forgive a clumsy fool for saying so." The plainness of his compliment made Nigel grip his teacup so tightly, he was in danger of breaking it.

"Oh, I…" Miss Fitzroy shifted in her seat, clearly uncertain what to do about the compliment. "I suggest a need for some spectacles then, my Lord. You may not be looking at the real me."

Robert and the other gentleman laughed warmly.

Nigel suddenly felt so protective, so angered at them for being so close to her, when they didn't know the real her, all he knew was that he had to get them away from her.

"Robert?" His hand reached for the back of Robert's chair.

"What is it, Nigel?"

"Mr. Braithwaite wishes to speak to you." Nigel nodded his head across the room. Mr. Braithwaite was an elderly gentleman, a kindly soul who was fortunately also one of Nigel's patients. In recent years he had found himself forgetting things, and frequently forgot that he had asked Nigel to come and check up on him at all. Nigel knew if he sent Robert to speak to him, Mr. Braithwaite would just assume he had made such a request in the first place, then think of something to say. "Best not to leave him waiting."

"Yes, very well." Robert stood with an exaggerated sigh from his seat, buttoning his jacket. "My apologies, Miss Fitzroy." He took Miss Fitzroy's hand and kissed the back. "I hope to return to you soon."

Miss Fitzroy said nothing but stared at him blankly. Nigel was so angered at that kiss he practically thudded his teacup down onto the table beside him. The other gentleman hovering at Miss Fitzroy's shoulder clearly caught Nigel's expression, for he made his excuses too and hurried off.

Now Miss Fitzroy was alone, Nigel sat down, taking his brother's seat.

"Good Lord, is this what all tea soirees in London are like?" Miss Fitzroy asked with a laugh. "Do men flutter around women as butterflies do around flowers? It's amusing indeed!"

Nigel couldn't laugh with her. He scratched his chin, staring at her, angered that he had divided her from two men who clearly had a genuine interest in her company.

"Doctor? Are you well?" She leaned toward him, closing the distance between them.

"Perfectly," he said tightly, the lie obvious even to his own ears.

"Oh, well…" She paused and looked away. The way her eyes trailed after Robert made his hands tighten so much, his knuckles cracked. "Your brother is a curious soul."

"Curious? Is that a good word on this occasion?"

"An entertaining one," she confessed in a whisper, looking back at him. "I have never known anyone whose opinion of me changed so rapidly when he heard my title."

"Yes, Robert does have a habit of prizing position and wealth over anything else. I apologize if his behavior was a little forward just now," Nigel said hurriedly, leaning toward her. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"On the contrary, he amused me." She laughed once more.

Nigel fidgeted, unable to stay calm. He didn't want her to be amused. He supposed if she was laughing at Robert, that would be something. Yet he feared that she could have been laughing with Robert, at his jokes, and that made it much worse.

"He does not appreciate healing, Miss Fitzroy," Nigel added in a hurried whisper. "He thinks of himself more than any other. I wish you to know that."

"Doctor, I could see that well enough for myself," she murmured, moving to the edge of her chair.

They were now sitting so close together, whispering, Nigel feared what people would think if they looked their way. Despite that fear, he couldn't bring himself to pull back from her. At least now, he was close to her, and no other man was.

What is this feeling?

"You look quite green about the gills, as they say, Doctor. Is all well?" She reached toward his teacup. "Here, have some more tea. It might help you."

Words failed him as he stared at her, abruptly realizing what was so wrong with him. He felt pure envy seeing her with any other man. Seeing her with Robert had mixed that envy with fury too.

I care for her. Good God, when did that happen? When did I care for her so much? She and I may know each other, but that all that well. This was not what was supposed to happen!

"Here, drink this." Miss Fitzroy pushed the cup into his hands and their fingers brushed together on the cup. He looked into her eyes, wondering if she felt that same rush of heat which passed through him. "I hope you and I shall start our lessons soon. There is much I wish to learn from you."

"Ah, Miss Fitzroy." He grimaced, when another much more indiscreet thought entered his head. There were things he could teach her, things he could show her that had little to do with healing and all to do with the two of them.

Get a hold of yourself!

"You're worrying me now, Doctor." She placed a hand on his wrist. "Please, let me do something for you? Tell me what is wrong, and maybe we can figure it out."

"It does not matter." He shook his head. "Please, do not think on it." Yet the touch of her hand was doing something to him. It was the sweetness of her manner, her concern, all of it was driving him mad.

Abruptly, he saw another woman before him. She was quite different to Miss Fitzroy, but she had shared that same sweetness of manner, the same wish for kindness. Apparently, it was what he admired in women more than anything else, pure kindness.

Then that image changed. The woman was no longer sat looking at him, but she was prostrate, her eyes staring glacially up to a ceiling.

Nigel put down the cup and stood. He had to get out of here, at once, before his panic attack completely overwhelmed him.

"Doctor, you're breathing heavily." Miss Fitzroy stood beside him.

He looked at her, a new panicked thought taking over. With horror, he imagined Miss Fitzroy was the ill one, staring up at the sky, glacially, unable to move. It hurt him so much, he turned his back on her.

"I am. A sudden sickness, that is all. If you'd excuse me, Miss Fitzroy, I must leave at once."

She laid a hand to his arm.

"My aunt always said that in times of such heavy breaths, one must remain calm. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth." She repeated this mantra a little, but Nigel wasn't paying attention to her. All he could think of was the realization that despite everything, despite his wish to stay clear of Miss Fitzroy, they had come together repeatedly regardless, and in all of their meetings, he had developed a deep and swift attachment to her.

"Forgive me," he muttered, backing up from her so that her hand fell from his arm. "Forgive me, I must go."

He left the room hurriedly. Across the long gallery, he caught sight of Robert in conversation with Mr. Braithwaite, who had clearly found some subject to discuss for he talked eagerly. Nigel nodded at his brother in parting and hastened out of the room, through the house, his breathing growing worse as his fears overtook him.

Bursting out through the front door on the other side of the manor, he stumbled down the front steps and gave a swift request to a stable boy that came running, asking for his horse to be prepared at once.

As he waited for the horse to be brought around, Nigel placed his hands to his hips and paced in a small circle, finding it impossible to calm down. Then Miss Fitzroy's words break through to him, repeating in his mind. "Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. In and out, Doctor. In… and out…"

He did as she had suggested now, breathing in through his nose and slowly out of his mouth. It wasn't sudden, but gradual. Eventually, his breath started to calm, and his chest no longer rose and fell at an alarming rate.

When the horse was brought before him, he was able to slowly climb into the saddle, puling himself up and glancing back at the house. To his amazement, he saw that the doorway was no longer empty. Miss Fitzroy stood there, her cheeks slightly pinkened as if she had run through the house to catch up with him.

Nigel didn't flick the reins to ride off but stared at her, sensing she had something to say. Taking the skirt of her gown in her hands she hurried down the steps at the front of the house and crossed the drive toward him.

Completely at ease with horses, she patted the mare's nose, comforting her so she could not escape. The mare pushed her nose into Miss Fitzroy's hand. It seemed just like Nigel she craved Miss Fitzroy's attention.

"Doctor Beille," she called up to him in the saddle. "I pray it was not something I said that upset you. I am deeply sorry if it was."

"It was not." He reached toward her, surprised that his hand yearned for hers so easily. She released the horse's nose and gave her lace-gloved hand to him. He held it softly, nervous about holding onto her for longer than he should have done. "It was nothing you did wrong." He tried to smile, struggling with it. "It is something in my own mind."

"My aunt says sicknesses of the mind need more care than we sometimes give them." The softness of her voice made Nigel lean toward her, in danger of falling out of the saddle. More than anything did he wish to raise her hand to his lips, to kiss her, and leave her with his kiss rather than his brother's, but he held himself back.

I cannot be weak. I swore I would never have this feeling again.

"Your aunt is wise," he whispered. "Good day, Miss Fitzroy."

"Good day, Doctor. Please, take care."

He held tighter to her hand for a few seconds then released her and flicked the reins. The horse darted past her, down the drive and out into the open road. In his haste, Nigel didn't look where he was going, and he nearly collided with another carriage on the road. He narrowly managed to avoid an accident and road away, determinedly refusing to glance back in case he caught sight of Miss Fitzroy again.