Alex was cut of the same cloth.
Did he ever sit still, Lottie wondered? Was his life as a physician also one of constant motion?
Lottie paused at the thought, as she wasn’t entirely sure. She supposed being a doctor could be rather frenetic at times.
But she wanted to know.
She wanted to know . . .everything.
How he spent his days in Edinburgh with patients. How he passed the evenings. How he dined and conversed and worked and would it be possible to envision herself in those scenes with him?
Such thoughts were unhelpful.
Particularly as word of Alex’s never-ending busy-ness even reached London.
Margaret wrote in one of her weekly letters—
Mr. Warden informs Frank that Dr. Whitaker is moving about readily now. Will the man remove himself from Frome Abbey soon and come to London to sign the writ, do you think? Mr. Warden has expressed concerns that Dr. Whitaker is prone to seeing problems where none exist. Frank and Ferndown worry that the longer Dr. Whitaker lingers, the more he will wish to govern the whole of Frome Abbey himself. But the King and Committee on Privilege have made so many demands, Frank cannot spare the time to travel to Frome Abbey and force the issue himself. What is your opinion of the situation?
Please write soon. I am missing your company here in London, and Freddie keeps asking when Tottie will come . . .
Lottie sighed.
Whatdidshe think about Cousin Alex? He was scarcely five weeks into his recuperation.
But Margaret was not wrong.
Alex was decidedly mobile.
But mobile enough to withstand a lengthy carriage journey? First the three-day journey to London to sign the attainder? And then the even longer trip back to Edinburgh?
That . . . she was less sure.
Fortunately, she felt like they were good enough friends at this point that she could simply ask him.
Lottie ran Alex to ground in the stables.
“There you are,” she said, peering over a stall door.
Alex was grooming Galahad. The stallion had been her late father’s pride and joy, so Lottie was pleased to see that the horse’s injuries had healed entirely. Alex had a crutch under one arm and a brush in the other. “I did not expect to find you doing a groom’s work.”
He shrugged. “I like to stay busy.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” she said, her words holding a desert of dryness.
He chuckled.
“My family wonders how much longer you will be with us now?” she continued, getting straight to the point.
“Och, anxious to be rid of me?” Alex arched his eyebrows.
“Not for myself.” Lottie shook her head and gathered her cloak tighter around her shoulders to ward off the chill. “You are an economical guest. Our stores of sugar and French wine have never been more secure.”
Alex smiled. “Not to mention meat.”
“That, too.”
Alex brushed Galahad, his hand moving in confident strokes. “I cannae say I plan tae quit the estate for another pair of weeks at the least. My leg still aches and here I can easily rest when I tire.”
