He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Thank you.” He nodded to the others and walked away.
When he had gone, Dr. Finch said, “Well, that was not the party I expected.”
Anne agreed. “No. Poor man.”
Looking from Rosa to Miss Fitzjohn, Anne felt her brow furrow. “Is ... Colonel Paine still sitting with your mother?”
“No, he went out. But don’t worry, Dr. Marsland came by to see me—I mean, Mamma—and offered to sit with her while Rosa and I took a short walk. I told them I needed some air, but I confess I was curious about the party and thought I would put in a brief appearance, especially as Jude failed to do so.”
“Kind of Marsland,” noted Dr. Finch.
Anne felt uneasy. Would Dr. Marsland be cross with her? She was the one who should be sitting with Lady Celia, not him.
Dr. Finch retrieved Anne’s shawl and arranged it around her, his hands warm on her shoulders. Then together they started back. Rosa and Miss Fitzjohn walked ahead, and this time, Dr. Finch offered Anne his arm. She curled herhand around his firm upper arm, drawing comfort from his strong, steady presence.
When they reached Painswick Court, Anne thanked Dr. Finch for escorting her and bid him good-night, eager to return to Lady Celia’s bedchamber. Miss Fitzjohn went into the parlour for a glass of sherry, while Rosa lingered at the door with the young doctor.
Anne hurried upstairs, knocked softly, and entered.
Dr. Marsland was sitting in the bedside chair Anne herself so often occupied. Lady Celia appeared to be sound asleep.
“How is she?” Anne whispered.
“Sleeping peacefully.” He looked at the dozing patient and said easily, “I would have administered her nightly sleeping draught for you, but she fell asleep before I could.”
“Oh.” Anne glanced over at the room where she kept the medicine, oddly relieved he’d not had occasion to enter what she considered her private domain. “Then perhaps she no longer needs it? Or at least not the larger dose?”
He rose. “Perhaps, but it’s bad practice to stop abruptly. If I decide she no longer requires it, I will ask you to gradually diminish the dosage.”
“Of course,” Anne said, feeling mildly chastised. “Very wise. Well, thank you for sitting with her. I hope you did not mind.”
“Not at all. Before you came here, before Dr. Finch, I spent many fond hours in this house. I like this family. And I especially like Lady Celia ... when she is sleeping.” He grinned at Anne, and at the unexpected humor from the often-stern man, she chuckled softly and grinned back. No wonder Charlotte Newland liked him.
He left a moment later, and when the door had closed behind him, Lady Celia cracked open one eye, then the other. “Is he gone?”
Anne reared her head back, astounded to realize the woman had only pretended to be asleep.
“And I especially likehimwhen he is not pestering my daughter!” Lady Celia said tartly. “Has Katherine returned from her stroll with Rosa?”
“Yes, I believe she is in the parlour.”
“Please go down. And if you find them in a tête-à-tête, interrupt them.”
“Why? How rude I would seem. He may simply want to give Miss Fitzjohn a report on your progress.”
“That’s not all he wants. Go.” She added more gently, “Please. If they are together, tell Katherine I wish a word with her.”
“Are you saying Dr. Marsland is pursuing her ... romantically?”
“Is that so shocking? She is an heiress after all.”
The woman’s dressing room door opened, and Rosa poked her head in. “Everything all right?”
“Yes,” Anne replied. “I need to go downstairs for ... something. If you could help Lady Celia clean her teeth and use the commode, I shall return directly.”
“Of course.”
Anne reluctantly made her way downstairs, hoping she would not find the two in a romantic embrace. How mortifying for them all. But when she reached the parlour, she found only Katherine Fitzjohn within, empty glass in hand, staring wanly into the fire.
