Silently the butler held out a small white card to his mistress. Lady Meriton fixed her butler with a frown as she fumbled to adjust the small rimmed glasses she wore on her nose, then she glanced down at the card. "Cecilia! It's Sir James Branstoke!"
"What? I knew the man was trouble! I can't see him. I don't dare." Cecilia's hands fluttered about her, her complexion growing paler than usual without recourse to rice powder. She turned to glare mockingly at her aunt. "I thought you said my blue megrims would drive any man to distraction."
"Mostmen," corrected Lady Meriton. "But you are getting frantic without cause. I have known Sir James for many years. Allow me to assure you that he is a veritable walking somnambulist. The man does not see beyond the end of his nose unless he is looking at someone's attire. He is a tyro for sartorial elegance."
"Who is Sir James?" asked Mr. Thornbridge.
"He is merely a gentleman who came to Cecilia's aid last evening when he thought she was ill. My niece now would have it that he doubts her ill health."
"He does, and I swear he is not the quintessential dandy he appears. Trust one artificer to recognize another, Jessamine. Loudon, send him away, say I am indisposed. Yes! That's it; I am indisposed and closeted with my physician."
The butler cleared his throat and looked sheepishly at Mrs. Waddley. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I took the liberty of informing the gentleman of your visit with your—ahem,doctor.He informed me he would wait. A most courteous gentleman, but rather implacable, I would say,"
"I'm afraid that is a very proper summation, Loudon." Cecilia sighed then compressed her lips. "All right. You may show him up, Loudon. Mr. Thornbridge, quickly fetch the blanket folded on the settee over there while I douse a handkerchief in lavender water to bathe my feverish brow. I shall probably need it in actuality before this interview is over."
"Cecilia, you are refining too much on last evening's occurrence," protested Lady Meriton.
"I hope you are correct, Jessamine. Oh, blast! I've spilled lavender water on my dress. I shall reek for hours! No matter. Spread that blanket across my legs, Mr. Thornbridge, then hover over me like you are checking my pulse, or fever, or something doctorish."
"I must protest, Mrs. Waddley. To feign a doctor's position for the servants' benefit is a dashed nuisance, but to portray one to a member ofSociety—"
"Is no different. Do not turn squeamish on me, Mr. Thornbridge. I would not believe it. Any man willingly engaging in nocturnal forays to a black dock on which another man has been murdered cannot be easily daunted," Cecilia admonished before slapping a lavender-water drenched handkerchief against her forehead, dribbling more of the liquid down the front of her gown.
"Let me assure you, Mrs. Waddley, there is an immense difference between the two tasks," Mr. Thornbridge said fervently, clasping her wrist as the drawing-room door opened.
"Sir James Branstoke, my lady," announced Loudon, standing in front of the man while he ascertained that the room's occupants were ready to receive their guest. Satisfied at Mrs. Waddley's invalid position, he stood aside and allowed Sir James to enter.
The butler's maneuver did not go unregarded by Branstoke. Nonetheless, his visage remained impassive to the point of boredom. He lifted his quizzing glass to his eyes and surveyed the drawing-room.
"Lady Meriton, forgive this intrusion at this impossible hour of the morning. It is not my desire to discommode you. I told your man I would wait, but leave I could not without first ascertaining Mrs. Waddley's condition."
His heavily lidded brown eyes turned to Mrs. Waddley. Gowned in an ethereal looking pale blue and gray confection and sporting a lacy matron's cap over her white-blond hair, she was artistically posed in a nest of pink and rose-colored satin pillows. A blanket tucked around her legs and at her elbow stood a small table covered with medicinal bottles and vials. With one hand, she held a lace-edged handkerchief to her forehead. Her other was held by the gentleman standing at her side. For some reason, the entire scene reminded Branstoke of some Rowlandson cartoon. He wondered why. He stepped toward Cecilia.
"My dear lady, I am devastated to see you as yet unrecovered from the exigencies of yesterday evening. Cannot your medical man do anything to relieve your suffering?" he asked languidly, his sleepy-eyed gaze resting on David Thornbridge.
The young Waddley's manager dropped her hand abruptly as he fought a tide of red threatening to sweep up his neck. He coughed to clear his throat and ran nervous fingers through his hair.
Cecilia limply removed the saturated handkerchief from her forehead and waved Mr. Thornbridge away. "You are mistaken, sir. I am much better today, just tired.DoctorThornbridge is a veritable miracle worker. Oh, forgive me," she tittered, raising a slender hand to cover her lips in contrition. "So silly. My wits have gone begging. You gentlemen have not been introduced. Sir James, allow me to present my dear physician and pillar of strength, Dr. David Thornbridge."
A soft, strangling sound came from Mr. Thornbridge. Cecilia shot him an admonishing glance. "Your modesty is commendable but unnecessary. I neither flatter nor lie," she said sweetly.
Lady Meriton's pale blue eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed spasmodically. She did not know where to look lest she reveal her knowledge of her niece's bouncers.
"Now I am rambling again. Dr. Thornbridge, this is Sir James Branstoke," Cecilia serenely continued, apparently oblivious to the reactions of her confederates.
The gentlemen exchanged greetings.
"I will be going now, Mrs. Waddley," Mr. Thornbridge said gravely.
"Oh, yes, I know. You have your rounds to make."
"My wha—? Ah, yes indeed, myroundsto make. Umm—uh, get plenty of rest today. You should feel much better by tomorrow," Mr. Thornbridge finished in a rush while backing toward the door. "Lady Meriton, Sir James," he said, bowing in their directions; "Good day."
"A rather young man for a physician, isn't he?" Branstoke drawled after the white double door closed behind Mr. Thornbridge. He turned to look at Mrs. Waddley, one dark eyebrow raised in lazy inquiry.
"He is gifted beyond his years," Cecilia said serenely, her dark blue eyes guilelessly opening wide.
"To be sure, my niece is quite fortunate in his attentions," Lady Meriton added brightly. "Please, Sir James, won't you be seated?" She waved her hand toward the chair recently vacated by Mr. Thornbridge. "Would you mind if I cut your silhouette while we visit?"
