Page 64 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“I’d like to try.”

He stepped back and waved a hand to himself. “As you please.”

Without a waistcoat, the linen shirt offered little barrier. He was giving her permission to touch him, to use the instrument to come close, very close. The scent of his cologne, sandalwood and cloves, tickled her senses. She inhaled and stepped near. She was suddenly hot, and a tingling awareness zinged in her veins. She was caught between sexual attraction and intellectual curiosity. Most women wouldn’t find both dangerous. She did. She placed the flat end of the tube on his chest, the other to her ear, and concentrated. At first, she didn’t hear anything, then the strong beat of his heart came through the hollow tube.

“Oh my goodness! I hear your heartbeat!” A lurch of excitement made her cry out.

He gazed down at her quizzically. “You have a look of rapt fascination on your face. I’m pleased you like it.”

Her heart rate galloped, and she felt a little breathless. “I do.” She returned her attention to the wooden tube in her hands. “For such a simple device, it has much potential. I could have used it to help Mr. Taylor.”

“Mr. Taylor?”

“A man with a bad cough I treated. I had to place my ear to his chest, but he was overweight, and the sound was muffled. But this device,” she said as she held up the stethoscope, “would have helped me.” Her brow furrowed as she studied the device. “Although I wonder if Mr. Taylor would have allowed me to use it on him.”

“Why wouldn’t he? You said you helped him.”

“He was reluctant to allow a woman to examine him. You were the same at first.”

“I was not.”

She pursed her lips. “Don’t be stubborn. I’m a woman and you thought less of me because of my sex.” It was like the way Mr. Elder had treated Mary. But she couldn’t compare the two. Warwick was different. He had allowed her to treat him, and he’d acknowledged her ability. Still, she wanted to hear him admit his initial bias.

He had the grace to concede. “You are right. I was hesitant. I didn’t know you then.”

“I do not blame you. I want you only to acknowledge it. You will never understand the prejudice women face daily, let alone a woman who is a healer.” Or an author like Mary.

His silence seemed to echo in the room. They remained, silent and motionless—inches apart. Finally, he nodded. “I will never fully comprehend your battles. But I do know what it feels like to inherit a dukedom but wish to work on something to which only a tradesman or a man of lesser title should aspire.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“A duke who is expected to spend his days gambling, drinking, and whoring rather than tinkering on inventions in a ballroom converted to a workshop. Are we very different?”

The frustration in his voice touched a deep part of her soul. She didn’t want to think of them as similar. She couldn’t. He was a duke, and her mother was a commoner. Even if her father was titled, she was still far from his station. Edwin was her half brother and he’d treated her like the dirt beneath his boot, and she’d learned not to trust titled men.

He reached for her hand. “I want you to have the stethoscope.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Her awareness of him hummed beneath the surface. She studied his features one by one. “Why?”

“Because you will make much more use of it than if it sits on my workbench. Because you have a talent that must not be wasted, and if this device can help you to help others, then it is a simple gift.”

His words struck a vibrant chord in her chest as her fingers wrapped around the device. She felt a curious swooping pull at her innards. Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps her resolve to keep herself at a distance had already begun to crumble and her heart was at risk. Her voice was a soft whisper. “Thank you.”

He was close, so close and the urge to touch him—to touch his perfect lips—could no longer be denied. She set the stethoscope on the workbench, then reached for him. Her fingers found the divot in his chin, then her forefinger traced his full bottom lip.

“Adeline.” His voice was full of rich promise and temptation. The sound of it seemed to vibrate along her spine.

“Yes.”

“We shouldn’t. Remember our agreement.” His voice was strained, hoarse.

“I remember. But no one needs to know. Just us.”

His green eyes darkened, and she recognized his need. It echoed her own. “Just us.”

Then, blessedly, he lowered his head and kissed her.

…