Page 33 of The Gentleman Physician

“Imagine a woman wishing to make her own way in the world.” Her ladyship’s dry tone was not lost on him and he offered a contrite smile.

“I suppose it isn’t difficult to understand. We second sons must do the same.”

“And would you call your chosen path an easy one?” she asked, gray eyebrows arching high on her forehead.

“Not at all.”

“And for a woman, it is ten times as difficult.” She nodded smartly. “I will make inquiries for your Miss Devon. But I suggest you consider if she might not fill the position of wife and companion to a doctor better than that of a governess.”

Good manners prevented him from arguing with her. Nathaniel thanked her instead and shortly thereafter took his leave, promising he would keep all Lady Huntington said in mind.

As he went on to his next appointment, he kept his word, and thought more on Julia Devon than he ought, especially given his vehement statement to her that he’d moved on with his life.

Chapter Thirteen

Julia waited in the study, pacing from one end to the other, with frequent glances through the doorway. Nathaniel had come and was upstairs, administering to the baron. His visits were daily occurrences, which she both dreaded and looked forward to. Every time she saw him, her mind and heart were briefly transported back to London and springtime walks beneath the blooming trees of Hyde Park.

But she put those memories aside, as she forced herself to instead think on his words to her, spoken in the very room she prowled.

Julia took in a deep breath and came to a stop by the window, peering out over the street. How often had she chastised her sister for her constant pacing? Christine never thought a thing out without marching up and down a room, agitating anyone else who shared the space with her.

“I miss that girl,” she said out loud, her hands clenching her skirt. She wished for a response to her letter, but it was unlikely Christine had yet received it.

“Ah, Miss Devon.”

Julia forced her hands to relax and put a smile on her face before turning to the door. “Mr. Macon. Good afternoon.”

Gerard Macon strode into the study as though he owned the room and everything in it. Only the somber color of his waistcoat even hinted at mournful feelings for the imminent loss of his brother. The rest of his appearance, including his expression, looked carefully manicured and groomed.

“You frequent this room often. I have to wonder, what draws you here?” He came all the way to the desk and sat, opening drawers and pulling out paper and writing implements.

“The books,” she answered. “The view to the street. It’s a pleasant room.”

He certainly made himself content in it.

“I agree.” Mr. Macon began sharpening his pen. “The doctor is here again, isn’t he?”

Julia averted her gaze to the window, attempting to conceal any emotion that might give away her true purpose for being in the room. “Yes. He’s upstairs.”

“I’d like a word with him when he comes down.”

She frowned out the glass paned window and curled her fingers into fists. “Would you?”

“Yes. See to it he’s directed in here.”

Although there was absolutely nothing to gain from snubbing the man, Julia dearly wished to set him right. But she bit her tongue. Let him think her nothing more than a poor relation, come to serve the whims of any member of the household. She had come for Virginia’s sake, and she would do all in her power to assist her cousin in removing this man’s threat over her children.

He never spoke of his decision in the household, not since initially informing Virginia of his visit to a lawyer to “set matters right” in regards to the will and guardianship of the boys. Mr. Macon also remained mostly civil, and Virginia could think of no grounds to throw him out of the house.

Charles Macon barely remained conscious for longer than a few minutes a day. His pain had become unbearable and his dependence on the oblivion brought on by sleeping droughts had increased. Virginia could not bring herself to tell him of his brother’s treachery. All she could do was send urgent missives to their solicitor’s office and beg them be sent on to wherever he had gone off to.

Julia almost missed the sound of footsteps on the stair. She walked swiftly out into the hall, looking up to catch Nathaniel’s eye before the maid could hand him his hat and coat.

“Miss Devon,” he said, his voice making her name sound much friendlier than Mr. Macon’s dismissive tone. “How are you this afternoon?”

She moved hastily to him, her skirts swishing against her ankles in her haste. “Doctor Hastings.” She dropped a quick curtsy. “Mr. Macon has expressed a desire to speak with you before you leave.” Julia tried to tell him with her eyes exactly what she thought of that idea.

His lips twitched, as though he might smile, but Nathaniel only nodded his understanding.