“Oh good.”
“Rosa is with him now and plans to spend most of the night with him, thanks to you.”
“I thought after the day you all had yesterday, time together—and a respite for you—might be appreciated.”
“Indeed. And we are all grateful.”
“Are you here to see Lady Celia?” Anne opened the door wider, although she kept her voice low.
“It’s what I told the footman when I passed. I thought since I had a rare night free, I would pay a visit, see how she is getting on. See you too.”
Anne felt herself flush. “You are very welcome, of course.”
Dr. Finch approached the bed and gently held Lady Celia’s wrist. After counting her pulse against his watch, he asked, “How has she been sleeping?”
“Well. The laudanum helps, I can’t deny. Although I wonder if she needs such a large dose.”
“What has Dr. Marsland said?”
She gave a sheepish smile. “To keep out of it.”
“Her pulse rate is still rather slow. I will talk it over with him.”
“Thank you.”
As they stood side by side near the bed, he took her hand. She drew in a shaky breath. What was he doing?
Then he turned to face her, and his fingers moved up to encircle her wrist. “And how are you feeling?” He tilted his head to one side as he studied her face. “You look as tired as you said Rosa did. All these late nights are talking their toll, I fear.”
“I was feeling perfectly well until you pointed that out.”
“You look lovely, don’t mistake me. Your eyes, though, seem a little weary.”
“I am not surprised. I wake often in the night, at every little sound.”
He gave her a slow grin. “Your pulse, however, is remarkably strong. If a little fast.”
And no wonder, Anne thought, with him all but holding her hand!
He gave her fingers a squeeze before releasing her. “Thank you again for ... earlier.”
Lady Celia turned her face on the pillow. Without opening her eyes, she grumbled, “If you two are going to flirt shamelessly, have the courtesy to step out into the hall and let an old woman sleep.”
Their gazes flew to each other’s, eyes wide in surpriseand chagrin. Biting back a grin, Anne stepped to the door, intending to hold it for him as he left. Instead, he took the woman at her word, picked up his bag, and gestured for Anne to precede him out.
After softly closing the door, the two stood just outside the room, looking at each other. Dr. Finch’s features were emphasized by the light and shadow cast by the flickering flame of the candle on the small table, deepening the hollows beneath his high cheekbones, the cleft in his chin, the slight protrusion of brow over shadowed eyes, and the jut of his nose.
He took a step toward her. “No wonder you seemed to disapprove of me at times and reacted as you did when I paid you some compliment or attention. You thought I had a child with someone else yet was flirting with you. That really would have been shameful. I apologize for my part in the deception. I hope you have forgiven me, now you know.”
“I have.” Anne thought, and then, made brave by the shadows and the warm way he was looking at her, added, “I admit I was relieved to learn you were not married nor ... involved ... with anyone.”
“Were you? May I ask why? Was it only because it meant I wasn’t being unfaithful to someone?”
“No, that was not the only reason.”
He leaned closer. “I am glad to hear it. That gives me reason to hope.”
Anne’s face heated, and she was glad he probably could not see her blush. How forward she must have sounded!
