Page 17 of How Not to Marry a Duke

Her decision to depart Town was her business. Still, she found herself explaining her reasons once more. “I never said I didn’t wish to marry. I seek a love match like my own parents.”

“Lord Foster says otherwise.”

She lowered her lashes. Despite years of knowing how Edwin felt about her, it was humiliating to admit the truth to a stranger—a duke no less. She felt her cheeks warm. “My brother has never viewed me as worthy of the family name.”

“For all his intelligence, your brother is an idiot.”

She raised her gaze. Warwick’s eyes were fierce, like chips of green glass. For the first time, she found herself in complete agreement with the duke.

He motioned toward his arm. “How will you treat the burn?”

“Not with flour, Your Grace. First, I need to cleanse the area. The wound is seeping pus and the bandages need to be changed.” Confidence infused her voice. Healing was a topic she was comfortable discussing, even with the argumentative and maddening duke.

She stood and made her way to one of the cabinets, opened the door, and removed clean cloths and bandages. Hasmik always ensured that fresh bandages were on hand. Adeline filled a porcelain pot from a pitcher of fresh water and carried her items to the table and sat across from him.

She began to gently cleanse the wound and remove the thick layer of flour. She was especially careful to avoid the angry, seeping blisters. “How did you injure yourself?”

“It was an accident during one of my experiments with gunpowder.”

She focused on her work. “Why would you experiment with gunpowder?”

“To find the cleanest burning powder, of course.”

She glanced up. “That sounds dangerous. And reckless.”

His dark eyebrows slanted in a frown. “My work is not reckless. It’s wise, well thought out, and necessary.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who was this wise experiment for then?”

“For the soldiers in the King’s army. It could be the difference between life and death.”

She’d treated her fair share of impoverished soldiers who’d returned from war, men who’d lost limbs, had festering wounds, had lost not only their health, but their pride after sacrificing everything serving their country. Men who were treated no better than stray dogs in return. Men who never protested when a female healer offered them relief from their suffering and pain.

“Tell me, Your Grace, was your work with the gunpowder worth the wound?”

“It was. I gave my findings to the Crown.”

“I see,” she said, although she did not. Why would a duke of the realm trouble himself with such matters?

She rose once more and went to her medicine chest. Made of mahogany, the two front doors opened to reveal dozens of vials of herbs and poultices. The chest was embossed with vines and Arabic writings.

Warwick shifted in the chair to see. “That’s an interesting piece.”

Adeline rested a hand across the top. Her fingers passed over the smooth wood. “It’s a medicine chest that belonged to my mother.”

“I’m still curious. As Lord Foster’s half sister, why move to this remote village?”

She stared at him, her heart tripping in her chest. Dare she share her plan? Would he think it a woman’s fancy, like Edwin did? Warwick was a duke, and from her experience, titled men had preconceived notions for highborn women. In her opinion, it was all suffocatingly restraining. “My plan is to help the village folk with their ailments. The traveling doctor who used to come here was much older and has died. The people are in need of a skilled healer.”

And more willing to accept a woman.

Not waiting to see his response, Adeline selected a vial from the medicine chest, then went to the windowsill for a potted plant. When she returned holding the plant, he shifted in his chair. “What kind of strange plant is that?”

“Are you always this curious?”

“Always.”

She could understand, and she had an inquisitive mind when it came to anything that dealt with medicine. She set the plant on the table. “The aloe vera plant grows in the wilds of the Arabian Peninsula, near the Al-Hajar mountains of Oman. My mother brought the plant to London with her after one of her travels. It will not thrive outdoors in English soil, but it grows well in clay pots indoors. The plant’s sap can be made into a poultice to treat your burn.”