Astonishment. Outrage. Anger.
“Much as it seems to pain you, Dr. Whitaker, you have been left to my care at the moment.” Her scathing tone could cut glass with its precision. “Do you have a complaint you wish to lodge? Shall I summon my supervisor?”
Lottie stared atDr. Whitaker.
Oof!
The man was being an utter cad.
Dragon, indeed.
He had awakened determined to blaze fire and blister anyone who walked through the door. She simply had the misfortune to be the first one to brave his cave.
“Does this supervisor exist?” he snapped. “Or is it of the more metaphorical variety?”
“Metaphorical. But I am certain I could arrange something. Perhaps a polite renunciation of the hospitality found at Frome Abbey inCary’s New Itinerarywould suffice? Something to deter would-be tourists from visiting? Eventhatshould be possible for a pretty woman who avoids thinking.”
Dr. Whitaker flinched at having his own caustic words thrown back at him.
Do not think me weak, Doctor, she felt like hissing.
Grandmère had not raised her to be a shrinking violet.
“Are you always such a difficult patient?” Lottie continued.
His eyes narrowed.
“I cannot say.” He waved a hand at his leg. “I have never suffered such a grievous injury.”
“Perhaps you should consider this episode of recovery as a physic, an antidote to help you better relate to your patients—”
“I dinnae need a pretty, feather-brained debutante tae recount how to practice my profession.”
Oh!
Of all the things to accuse her of—
Lottie swallowed back the angry retort on her tongue.
She stiffly nodded her head. “I was merely offering assistance, Dr. Whitaker. But as I can see that is not wanted or needed, I will leave you to the servants. Good day.”
She swept from the room, all but stomping down the stairs.
How dare he! The very nerve!
Pretty, feather-brained debutante!
She stormed into the library.
She could not help her beauty. It was an accident of Fate.
The same Fate that had taken Anne and Gabriel and Papa far too soon.
The same Fate that had rendered Dr. Whitaker the heir to her father’s title.
All things that were entirely out of her control.
As for thefeather-brained . . . she had studied too long and too hard to allow such an epithet to stick.
