The Doctor and the Libertine Read online

  And he wasn’t just speaking of her rigid nature. Why a woman with such beauty and lovely curves chose to unfemale herself by working as a doctor continued to puzzle him. Even with all his injuries his thoughts came alive and a part of his body he preferred not to have Dr. Stevens notice, reacted.

  “Gentlemen—which I am sure you are not—you may leave now. Do not return. You are not welcome here. My patient is having a difficult enough time adjusting to no alcohol without his friends—and I use the term loosely—sabotaging his efforts.”

  All three men stared at her as if she’d spoken a foreign language. Edwin had been certain she would toss him out with the others, but she actually made it sound as though she was doing him a favor by banning Brennan and Manchester and protecting him from their intended harm.

  It had been a long time since anyone concerned themselves with his welfare. Grateful he was not going to have to hobble out behind them, he gestured with his head to the door. “Time to go, lads.”

  “Are you going to allow her to dictate to you?” Manchester seemed appalled. No doubt, since as the heir to his father’s dukedom he’d not had anyone tell him what to do since he’d been in short pants and couldn’t understand why Edwin, as a member of the nobility, would tolerate it.

  “Do you see the shape I’m in? I have no choice. Now be off with you.” For some very odd reason, he felt embarrassed for his friends. They did appear to be like children trying to avoid discipline from the headmaster after causing mischief with their teacher.

  Brennan shrugged, always the easiest going of the group. “You better get well fast, friend. You are missing out.”

  Dr. Stevens followed them to the door. Edwin heard her from the entrance. “Are you the two who brought Lord Sterling to my front door?”

  “Yes.” It sounded like Brennan’s voice.

  “The next time you deign to bring someone who has been seriously injured to a doctor, do take the time from your continuing levity to knock on the door and advise the doctor what happened to the patient. The man you refer to as friend could have died out there.”

  “We knocked on the door!” Brennan’s voice almost sounded like a small boy caught with a pilfered biscuit.

  “How very noble of you. ‘Tis too bad you didn’t want for an answer.” The swish of the door opening and rapidly closing was soon followed by footsteps down the corridor.

  Edwin flinched knowing he was not going to get away with what had just happened.

  Why did he even care what the doctor said, or thought? Once he was well enough to be on his way, he would never see her again. She would join the very large group of people who disdained him.

  He was used to it.

  She returned to the room and stood before him, her arms crossed over her middle, a flask in each hand. He smiled at how her breasts were pushed up with her arms. The brandy had kicked in.

  “Look at my face, please.” Her voice whipped around him like a crop.

  He gulped, realizing he’d been staring at her charming breasts. “I apologize.”

  “For what? There seems to be several issues here that need apology. Perhaps we can start with these.” She waved the flasks around.

  “I did not ask them to bring that. In fact, I didn’t know they were even coming.” Why the devil did he feel the need to explain himself to her? She was not his mother, wife, or betrothed. He owed her nothing.

  Except she probably saved my life.

  Edwin came back at her. “I think what you should concern yourself with is how they got in here. Is there no man at the door?” Yes, he was trying to divert her, but he found himself concerned that she was here, alone most times with such an easy way to enter the building.

  She stiffened, no doubt annoyed that he found a legitimate way to sidetrack the coming lecture. “Sometimes Walter is at the door, but if he is busy doing other things, maybe not. However, I run an infirmary. People must have access. The only time the door is locked is when I retire for the night.”

  “That is dangerous.”

  She waved him off. “I prefer to continue the conversation we started. Perhaps what you said is true, and you did not invite those men here. I have a feeling they go wherever they please, welcomed or not.” She stopped abruptly and stared at him. “Why did you drink?”

  Anger burst forth. “Because I wanted to! You cannot tell me how to live my life!”

  Her eyes flashed. “No. That is true. I cannot. However, while you are under my roof and care, I can tell you how to live your life. When you leave here if you wish to continue your debauched lifestyle, feel free to do so. But do not return here for treatment. Ever again.”

  With those words ringing in the room, she turned and left.

  And he felt like a fool.

  * * *

  After locking the front door—and no she did not do that because Sterling chastised her—she stomped up the stairs to her bedroom. The man was absolutely impossible. The sooner he finished with his healing, the better for her state of mind.

  Even more annoying was the way her treacherous body reacted to him. He was a libertine, an alcoholic, a rake, rogue, a dissipated debaucher.

  There. That should cover it.

  Then why did she feel tingles in various parts of her body when she looked at him, and when he offered her that crooked, little boy smile?

  Ha. He was no little boy. And although she had pretended she’d hadn’t noticed, she did indeed see his rising interest in her when he was looking at her breasts before. Then she cursed her own dampness and hardening nipples.

  For heaven’s sake she was getting herself all twisted up.

  Father would never approve of how she handled the situation tonight, either. He’d condemned her more than once for her soft heart. He would have thrown Sterling out the door, along with his friends.

  She could not do that. The man needed help and that was what she swore to do when she managed to finagle her way into medical training. In fact, her dream was to expand her infirmary to not only accept more patients who did not have the funds to seek medical help, but also those who did have the funds but were considered hopeless.

  Like Lord Sterling.

  Even the wealthy had their needs, and Sterling was in dire need of straightening himself out. No, she would not become his champion, but she would send him back home free of his addiction. It would be up to him to keep it up, or spiral back down into dissipation.

  Now that she as a bit calmer, she needed to fix dinner for the two of them, and Walter. She had sent him on a trip to the greengrocer and fishmonger. He should be back any time.

  She took a quick look into her mirror to smooth back her hair. She stared at her reflection for a minute. What, exactly, did Sterling see when he looked at her? A staid old maid? A rigid doctor? Or a pretty woman?

  Hell and damn, she was acting like a silly debutante. She hurried from the room, aware of the extra beats her heart took. Halfway down the stairs there was a knock on the door.

  “Why is the door locked?” Walter asked as he moved past her once she opened the door. His arms were full of packages.

  She shrugged, uneasy with his scrutiny. Surely, he didn’t think she locked the door so she and Sterling could be alone? “I don’t know. I was thinking maybe it’s a bit unsafe leaving it open all the time.”

  He nodded. “You’re probably right. When I’m not at the door, you should probably lock it. Anyone seeking your help can knock.” He lumbered down the corridor to the kitchen.

  “Dr. Stevens,” Sterling called from his bed.

  Rayne squared her shoulders and entered the room. “Yes?”

  Oh, damn, that smile. He held out his hand. “I want to apologize.”

  “Indeed?” For heaven’s sake, she sounded like an old dried-up schoolmarm. Well, perhaps she wasn’t a schoolmarm, but she was sure he viewed her as dried up.

  She relaxed her stance but didn’t take his hand. “I accept.”

  He grinned, her insides betraying her again.


  “I haven’t said for what I’m apologizing. As you pointed out, there are many.”

  She sniffed. “You owe me no apologies except for drinking that brandy.”

  He raised himself up on one elbow. “I will not do that again. You were right that I have had a few difficult days without the brandy, and I hope that one swallow won’t put me back at the beginning. Do you think so?”

  “One swallow?” Her brows climbed to her hairline.

  He rested his head on his hand, looking just like a little boy trying to charm his nanny into skipping his nap. Lord, why did she think of a bed? Well, perhaps because he was lying in one.

  All twisted up again.

  “All right. Perhaps more than one. I also want to apologize for embarrassing you before when I was looking at your—”

  She raised her hand. “—please do not continue. I understand and accept. Now if you will excuse me, I must see to dinner.” She raced from the room as if the hounds of hell were on her heels.

  “Are you well, Dr. Stevens?” Walter asked as she arrived in the kitchen in what she was sure appeared to be a flustered state.

  “Yes. I am fine. I need to start dinner.” As Walter turned to leave the room, she said, “Please see to Lord Sterling’s needs before dinner is ready.”

  Walter nodded and departed.

  Ordinarily Rayne employed a cook, Mrs. Johnson, but Father’s combination companion, cook, and housekeeper had unexpectedly married and left his employ, so Mrs. Johnson was on loan to his household until Rayne could hire another employee for her father.

  Life would be simpler if she could just find someone else for her household, but Father didn’t like Mrs. Johnson and Rayne believed the feelings were mutual. Her father could be a difficult man, and among his three daughters she got along with him best.

  She often wondered if she had not followed his path if he would be any easier to deal with than her sisters had found him.

  Tonight, she fixed whitefish, roasted potatoes, carrots and turnips, and salad. Walter had brought back fresh bread and a few fruit tarts to finish the meal. She enjoyed cooking and found it quite relaxing. It felt good to make something wholesome and tasty after dealing with blood and illness all day.

  She hummed as she worked, her thoughts always returning to the man lying in the infirmary. He had been past the worst part of his withdrawal, and hopefully that little bit of brandy had not set him back too far.

  Once she was sure he was strong enough, she intended to have Walter place him in the wheelchair and push him out to the garden for fresh air. With the man’s lifestyle, she was certain Lord Sterling hadn’t seen daytime close up for a long, long time.

  Again, she wondered why he was so determined to destroy himself. Marcus had mentioned that Sterling seemed to adopt his current lifestyle only a couple of years ago when he moved to Bath. That might be worth looking into.

  She stopped chopping the vegetables for the salad and frowned. Why did she care what brought her patient to this stage in his life? It mattered not to her. All she needed to do was see to his recovery from his injuries and while doing that, if she could improve his overall health by halting the consumption of alcohol, and giving him plenty of nourishing food, then her job would be done.

  And he would leave.

  She would not see him again.

  That was good.

  Yes. Very good.

  Once the food was ready, she arranged it on a plate, grabbed silverware and a napkin, and carried it into the infirmary. Walter had done his ministrations and Sterling looked refreshed. Handsomely refreshed, unfortunately.

  He’d been shaved and his hair combed. The clean nightshirt was open a bit at the neck and coarse dark hair showed through. He smiled at her and she almost dropped the plate.

  “I am actually hungry for the first time in a while.”

  She nodded, trying hard not to look at him, but merely deliver his food. “That is good. You need to put some weight on.”

  “Why are you staring at my feet?” She could hear the laughter in his voice. Good heavens, did he guess she was finding him attractive? That would never do.

  She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “I am merely making a clinical observation.” There, that sounded very medical. She held out the plate. “Here is your dinner.”

  “It smells good. You know, I think I would eat a lot more if you had dinner with me.”

  She drew back. “What?”

  “You know. You would return to the kitchen and get your plate and we would eat together.” His constant grin was very annoying. She had just chastised him and threw his friends out. Why was he being so congenial?

  “I do not eat with my patients.”

  His voice lowered. “Perhaps you should. It might make their recovery swifter.” He took the plate from her hand. “I assume you wish to be rid of me as quickly as possible. Look at it as a way for me to be gone sooner.”

  Look at it as a way for me to be gone sooner.

  Now why did that thought not make her as happy as it should?

  Chapter 4

  It had been six days since Lord Sterling had been dumped on her front steps, and Rayne was in such a muddle most times she couldn’t think straight.

  He had passed the worst part of his addiction withdrawal, but the day before he seemed to suffer withdrawal again. The little bit of research she was able to do mentioned that days five to seven after stopping alcohol could be as bad as the beginning.

  His injuries, however, especially his leg and ribs, prevented her from sending him home. When he’d developed a fever and was in and out of delirium the past two days, she worried that he had added an infection to his list of ailments and was constantly checking and changing his bandages.

  Had he been any other patient, she would tend to him and go about her business, and her days would be fine. Normal.

  Instead, she found herself at his bedside several times a day, sometimes just to study him as he slept. While awake, he was always polite, with a kind remark to make, or a bit of flirtation when he wasn’t burning up with fever.

  She needed to stop the nonsense as quickly as possible. She certainly didn’t need to visit his bed as often as she did but found herself inexplicably drawn to him. Two other patients had joined him in the infirmary, both older women. Mrs. Wilson had fallen and knocked herself out, so Rayne needed to observe her closely.

  The other woman, Miss Roberts, was in the final stages of cancer and her family no longer wanted to take care of her.

  Rayne had put a screen between the women and Lord Sterling. In addition to her in-house patients, she had her normal round of calls to make with notes she received every day requesting her services, as well as expectant mothers and those who were not sick enough to stay in the infirmary, but still needed care.

  Lord Sterling was interrupting her well organized routine. He was a dissipated scoundrel. She should treat his injuries and dismiss him from her life.

  As she descended the stairs from her bedroom, she gave herself the usual talk about what she needed to do that day. Her first stop at the infirmary assured her that Mrs. Wilson was still bright-eyed. Most likely Rayne would send a note around to her daughter, who Mrs. Wilson lived with, and advise her that her mother could return home.

  Poor Miss Roberts informed her that she had passed a difficult night. Rayne considered giving the woman morphine to ease her pain since the laudanum didn’t seem to be helping her anymore. In her opinion Miss Roberts was not long for this earth. As horrible as it sounded, Rayne prayed daily that the woman pass away peacefully in her sleep, and not suffer any longer.

  Her next stop at Lord Sterling’s bed had her heartbeat speeding up and her palms sweating. “Good morning, my lord. Did you get enough rest? You appear to be doing better.”

  “Good morning, Dr. Stevens.” He grinned and she fisted her hands at her sides waiting for his wanton remark. “My rest was interrupted by dreams of you.”

  She shook her head an
d took his wrist, placing two fingers at his pulse, checking his heartbeat. “I doubt that.”

  “You wound me, dear doctor. Do you doubt your charm?”

  She huffed. Never having the normal social life of most young ladies, she had as much charm as an inkwell.

  “Ah, I see you don’t believe me. What shall I do to convince you?” He smirked, eyelids drooping. The man was a master.

  She pulled away. “Stop this!” She cringed when she realized both Miss Roberts and Mrs. Wilson were right on the other side of the screen.

  Rayne took a deep breath. “I must check your injuries today.” She shook out her thermometer and placed it into his mouth. “I will be back. Keep that in place.”

  He winked at her.

  Sterling’s behavior would not be so bad if she could continue to act as a professional and ignore him. However, she had a hard time dismissing his comments which only proved the man’s wicked nature. No one had ever affected her that way. And she had gone through years of medical training with all men!

  But then, she had never been the sort to attract male attention, anyway. Always studying, always with her hair pulled back into a neat bun, her clothes covered in blood and bodily fluids. Young debutantes right from the schoolroom probably had more experience than Rayne had.

  While she waited to check his temperature, she assembled the items she needed to change the linens on his cuts and scrapes. No, she did not notice his eyes following her around the room. No, her heart did not speed up while she was ignoring him.

  She stomped back to his bedside and whipped out the thermometer. “Normal.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” The mirth in his eyes made her want to slap his face. Whatever was wrong with her? Hitting a patient? It was time to get him away from her.

  “Yes. It is good, in fact the weather is quite pleasant today, so I will have Walter put you in the wheelchair after you’ve broken your fast and roll you out to the garden. Some fresh air will do you good.” She spoke to the space over his head.