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“If you know of the work, then you know of its sometimes prurient subject matter,” she said carefully.
“I’m a physician, Lady Hatherly. My trade lies within the intricate workings of the minds and bodies of men. You needn’t feel embarrassed. I would dearly love to see the manuscript. Perhaps another day.”
“Perhaps.”
“It would be my pleasure, Lady Hatherly. And I mean that in an entirely professional way,” he said with a quick grin. “I’d better, because Lord Hatherly is not a man I would wish to anger. I did bring a Sanskrit grammar.” He drew a small book from inside his coat. “Why don’t we study this today?”
Alice returned his smile. “That would be wonderful.”
It had been kind of Nick to ask the doctor to assist her. Of course, hastening her translation assured her timely departure, which must have been his reasoning when he asked Dr. Forster to help.
Not because Nick was kind, or thoughtful, or any of the things he simply couldn’t be if she were to keep her heart an impenetrable fortress.
Nick arrived home dirty from the muddy banks of the canal and tired as hell.
All he wanted was a hot bath, a comfortable bed, and a bottle of brandy.
But when he headed to the library in search of the brandy, the sound of ringing, clear tones reciting words in a foreign tongue stopped him outside the room.
He couldn’t understand a word, of course, but the sound of her voice... listening to those dulcet tones was like sinking into a steaming bath and feeling the ache in his muscles ease and his joints loosen.
He hazarded a glance inside the room. He should walk on, find his bed, and sleep away this foolish feeling that he wanted to come home to the sound of her voice every day, but instead his legs carried him closer.
Standing outside the open library door, out of her line of sight, he watched her poring over a book. Light brown head and dark black head bent together in concentration.
Forster pointed something out with his finger and Alice nibbled on her lip as she focused her attention on the words, attempting the sentence.
She stumbled over a few of the words but Forster seemed to think she sounded good. He praised her liberally.
Watching anyone do a difficult task with skill and ease was a pleasure. She obviously took great pride in her ability with foreign tongues.
He enjoyed the thought of Alice marching about the globe acquiring languages in the same way other ladies acquired new bonnets.
Alice glanced up at Forster with a fetching tilt of her head, to see if she’d understood the words correctly, and Nick thought he caught an admiring gleam in her eyes.
That’s when it struck him that Forster was too handsome.
Why hadn’t Nick noticed it before?
He’d known the doctor for years and greatly admired his research into cures for lunacy, but he’d never before noticed quite how much masculine beauty he possessed.
Fine black eyes, tousled hair, pouting lips... he was a maiden’s fantasy.
And now he was touching Alice’s hand, guiding her fingers along a line of text.
A rush of jealousy grabbed hold of Nick’s heart.
You’re tired. You’re imagining things.
And even if you’re not, you’ve no right to jealousy. She’s not yours. She never was, and she never will be. Walk away. Find your bed.
He strode into the library, all thoughts of sleep forgotten in this unfamiliar rush of possessiveness.
Forster in his fresh linen and gleaming boots made Nick feel a mud-spattered brute.
“Lord Hatherly,” Forster said enthusiastically. “You have an extraordinarily clever wife.” His dark eyes shone with approval.
Nick didn’t like how shiny the man’s eyes were.
