An Independent Miss Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked at his
sister, a sinister hint to his smile, up to one of his games. “If you ignore
Mother and help us, Cis, you could send for Samuel Henry.”
    “There is no need for Samuel.”
Felicity took Andover’s arm. He covered her hand with his own and held it there
with a desperate firmness that surprised him.
    Redmond was a threat, with
everything still too new between Felicity and himself. He did not want
intrusion, and he did not like the way Thomas limped to her other side.
    “But we all know how much you like
to visit with Dr. Henry,” her brother
teased. It was not a friendly jest.
    “Ignore him,” Felicity ordered.
“Samuel Henry is a physician. He is not a surgeon. He does not tend to the
injuries of schoolboy antics.”
    “For you, I do believe he would
lower himself to a surgeon’s job.”
    “Stop it, Thomas,” Felicity warned,
too late for Andover. Thomas succeeded with words what he’d failed to do with
fists.
    Another man held Felicity’s
interest. To what extent, he couldn’t guess, or why she accepted his and not
the other man’s suit.
    Of course other men courted her.
She was sweet, and kind and, well…he looked down at her, stunned. Good God, was
he that numb, that he failed to look at her, his future wife?
    He stepped back, wanting to see her
in a way he’d not before, in the way he had always viewed women.
    Thomas tugged her forward, unaware
he’d played into Andover’s need. Felicity, her arm firmly held by Thomas,
turned sideways, to see what held Andover.
    “What?” she asked, all concerned.
    His eyes snapped to hers, no doubt
guilt-ridden and wide, having just traversed her form from head to toe. Thomas
urged her forward again.
    Good
God.
    He was repeating himself, to
himself, but couldn’t help it.
    The curves of a pagan goddess, her
bodice filled to brimming, the length of her skirt, loose and empty midpoint,
going taut with the spread of her hips. He swallowed, remembering those warm
brown eyes he’d found so calming, inspired now to the dark welcome of
unawakened sensuality.
    The power of her earthy beauty
stirred him from a trance of mourning, beckoned him to life, thoughts of
virility, and lust. By God, he’d never once thought of a wife in the context of
desire, something a man felt for an entirely different breed of female. Had
mourning so unmanned him?
    Thomas glanced back and scowled.
Andover schooled his expression, strode forward, linked arms with Felicity. Her
gentle hold, an artless tease, adding to his disquiet. Her brother sneered and
moved ahead, sullen and grim.
    “What is wrong with him?” Felicity
asked no one, as Upton took Thomas’s place beside her.
    “We’ve had a gentleman’s
disagreement.” Andover said, startled by Felicity’s unladylike snort. For
Thomas, he hoped, and not himself.
    He catalogued his injuries,
grateful for their insistent aches. A much needed diversion to his wayward
thoughts.
    Lady Westhaven stopped on the top
terrace. “Cis,” she called back. “Someone has just arrived. I’d better see to
them.” She looked at the three, heading up to her. “Please don’t forget our
conversation when you settle the men with Lucy. She’s been trained by an expert
and is more than capable of dealing with this sort of problem.”
    “Yes, Mama,” Felicity responded,
though Andover sensed a sigh.
    Andover stopped her. “There is
nothing that needs doing that I cannot do for myself.”
    Despite the nasal drone of his
voice, swell of his nose, prompting the idea it was broken, he’d had his fill
of charlatan medics and those who considered themselves physicians. He’d not
turn to a one. Damn the lot of them.
    She looked up, scanned his wounded
face, before she met his eyes. “She will need to use comfrey on that lip.”
    “Comfrey?” He asked.
    “Yes, I have heard something of its
nature. It will ease the pain and aid the healing. Or so I have heard.”
    “Ah, well.” Upton tried to pipe in,
but Andover doubted Felicity would