“Send for you if there is the slightest hint of a problem.” She smiled as she finished his sentence for him. They’d done this dance once each week since she’d sought him out at his office that evening one month prior. Ian chuckled and then sobered.
“You know, you are at a point where you could tell Sommerfeld about the pregnancy. I’m sure he would be elated—”
“I know,” she cut him off. “I’m just…not quite ready.”
Ian nodded but knew full well she didn’t have much time left to hold onto her secret. Meredith was a lean woman and her abdomen was finally beginning to show evidence of a swell. It was entirely her decision and he would respect it. Not every physician in his position would defer to a woman’s wishes and afford her her privacy—what Ian believed was a wife’s right to keep health-related secrets from her husband—but Ian would go to his grave before he broke Meredith’s confidence. While she’d reached a less tenuous point in the pregnancy, she’d experienced so much disappointment that he suspected it was difficult for her to speak it into reality and let her husband in. Though it paled in comparison, he’d felt something similar when his application to attend the medical school in Edinburgh had been accepted. He’d stared at the letter every single night for weeks and said nothing to his mother until the morning his classes began and he walked out the door. He knew Meredith would do it in her own time.
“I’ll see you next week then.”
Ian flipped open his timepiece as he descended the stairs and noted that he had thirty minutes to make it to his next appointment. Conveniently for him, it was also in Mayfair, so he needn’t rush. He slipped the clock back into his pocket and looked up once more to find a beaming Lady Juliette standing in the foyer.
His heart did a powerful flip when confronted with her beautiful face, the kissable pillows of her lips, the earnest glitter in her eyes. She wore a lilac walking dress and matching pelisse with embroidered frog closures and buttons. The contrast with her pale skin and dark hair was striking and, Ian thought, quite stunningly beautiful.
“Juliette.” He greeted her with a tilt to his head, his deep tone hinting at the slightly deeper intimacy they shared. The slight flush to her cheeks indicated she’d caught onto it. He saw her eyes flit to the case in his hand and then back to his face. The sudden loss of pallor alarmed him to the point where he hastily set his bag on the floor and rushed to steady her with a hand upon her elbow.
“Is Lady Sommerfeld ill? Has something happened?” She grabbed his hand, her tiny gloved one dwarfed by his. He tried not to look too much into the fact that she not only accepted his support but sought his comfort.
“All is well, just some fatigue,” he gently reassured her. He had become used to this reaction when he was found visiting a home. People often assumed the worst when a physician was called. Her shoulders sagged slightly, drawing his eyes downward to see that she held a large cream-colored envelope, much like the one in which his invitation to her house party had arrived. He tilted his chin in its direction.
“You know, the post usually delivers itself.”
∞∞∞
It took Juliette a moment to read the teasing tilt to Ian’s mouth. “Oh! I was just passing by and I had intended to visit Lady Sommerfeld for tea anyway.” This was only partly true because she also had some things to discuss with her friend.
She’d just come from Morton House where she’d dropped by for a chat with the duchess about her plans. As expected, Lady Morton found them deliciously wicked and would, of course, attend the country house party. Needless to say, she was going to be complicit in any way possible, but her plans also hinged upon the cooperation of Lady Sommerfeld—the one whose words had inspired Juliette to form this plan in the first place.
The last piece of the puzzle was the stubborn Scotsman standing before her. Juliette needed Lady Sommerfeld’s help to nudge him in the right direction and convince him to agree to attend the party. She hadn’t planned on encountering him on her way to speak to the viscountess, however.
“I…assume you received your invitation then?”
“I did,” he replied, his tone much more sober as he released her elbow and stepped back a more respectable distance. “And I thank you for it; however, I don’t believe I should attend.”
“Ah, but that doesn’t mean you won’t.”
She thought she heard him curse under his breath. “What is it that you want from me?” he hissed low enough that no servants could hear them from another room.
“I believe I made that rather clear.” She spoke slowly, as if to a small child. “And you already agreed.”
“It was in poor judgment; I was caught in a moment of weakness.” He reached up as if to run a rough hand through his hair, but stopped short. “I am a busy man with a profession. While my life may seem stable enough, everything I’ve built hinges upon my credibility and trustworthiness. Not only will it look terrible if I need to cancel my appointments while I’m away, but what do you think will happen if word gets out that I’m defiling pretty young ladies?”
“I never said anything about ‘defiling’, and I trust that you would never take anything too far or behave in a manner that was disrespectful of my wishes.”
“And why do you have so much faith in me?”
“Because you have taken great pains to help me. And you’ve been nothing but respectful.” Her cheeks warmed when he cocked a brow at her statement.Well, when he wasn’t kissing her senseless…
Ian looked around to make sure they were still alone before he quickly ushered her into the nearest room with a warm, firm hand on her lower back. It turned out to be the small parlor where Lord and Lady Sommerfeld typically received callers. He felt so large standing so close to her. His broad shoulders and chest took up most of her field of vision, the heat from his body engulfed her; his nearness was making it difficult for her to think, to breathe. He inclined his head so their gazes met. The afternoon light afforded her a brilliant view of his eyes, the golden flecks in his irises, the darker ring surrounding the vibrant pools of color.
“Why me?” he asked, his voice barely above a croak.
“Because,” she breathed, struggling to find words when he was this close. “Because there is something about you,” she added honestly. His eyes searched her face as if in disbelief, but he said nothing. Each passing second made her less sure of herself. Perhaps he really was having serious second thoughts. “Don’t you wish to follow through?”
“More than you know,” he groaned, sending a chill of awareness from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He heaved an aggravated sigh at odds with the statement he’d just uttered. “Let me make sure I understand you. You want me to take time away from my work…to attend a house party for a week…?”
Juliette nodded enthusiastically. “I know you may need to do some rearranging of appointments, but you’re welcome to bring your research with you.” His eyes widened. “I saw some of the papers. On your desk. In your office.” She flushed a little, embarrassed that she’d just admitted to snooping. He sighed again, but this time it was much more resigned. She chose to take that as a good sign. “Perhaps I will get my Gaelic tutor after all.” This earned her a smile and an indulgent shake of his head. He stepped closer and she couldn’t breathe at all as her heart leaped into her throat. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip.
“You are a very, very singular woman, Juliette.”
