He gave her an expectant look, willing her to leave.
Instead she remained in her seat. Her head tilted and he knew in that instant, before she uttered another word, that she was about to say something frightening. “I know you value honesty, so let me be blunt.” Cold apprehension snaked down his spine. “The Duchess of Huntley has informed me of St. Agatha’s committee and of her mother’s seat on it.”
Florian felt his stomach collapse and a rush of unease swirl up inside him.
“Since the donation I plan on making is substantial, and, keeping the additional funds I intend to raise in mind, I do not feel as though offering me a seat on the committee as well would be too much to ask.” She folded her hands neatly across the book in her lap. “It will allow me to engage in the discussions regarding distribution of funds, which frankly, I think I deserve to be included in. Don’t you?”
He stared at her, uncertain of how to extricate himself from this mess without causing offense or sounding unreasonable or giving up the money the hospital desperately needed. So he nodded and muttered an almost incoherent, “Yes,” while trying to come to terms with all the time he would have to spend in her company.
Christ, it wouldn’t be easy.
Not when she affected him the way she did. And it was all because of one stupid glance at a silly ball, which had led to a riveting conversation and a startling awareness he could not shake.
“Good.”
She pushed herself out of her chair and stood. “My brother will arrange to have the money transferred as soon as possible.” She smiled as though she’d won an award, her sense of victory affording her with a vibrant glow that made his chest burn and his fingers tingle with a curious need to reach out and touch her.
Restraint came to his rescue, strengthening his posture and tightening his features as he dipped his head in affirmation of her comment. “Thank you, my lady. I’ll make sure you’re informed of the next committee meeting.”
Her eyes held his for longer than necessary before she turned away and went to the door. She paused there, glanced at him once again, but said nothing further before she slipped out into the hallway, her maid following close on her heels.
Florian stood as if nailed to the floor. What the hell had just happened? He stared at the vacant spot where Lady Juliette had been sitting moments earlier. Within half an hour, he’d gone from successfully keeping her at arm’s length, to having to spend more time with her than ever before. Which wasn’t the least bit wise. Because with the fight against typhus and the adjustment his new position as heir to a dukedom demanded, Florian had enough on his mind. The last thing he needed was for Lady Juliette to become an additional concern.
She was the sort of woman a man would have to marry if he seduced her, which meant that avoiding temptation was now at the top of his list of priorities. Right below saving people from certain death and figuring out how to run three estates.
Reaching for a nearby decanter, Florian poured himself a glass of brandy and set it to his lips. Trouble had come to call on him in droves and he knew the only way past it was to face it head-on.
Juliette left the hospital with a new sense of purpose. Her body still trembled with nervous trepidation though she’d done her best to conceal it in front of Florian. Instead, she’d forced herself to remain as rigid as possible, to meet his penetrating gaze with confidence, hopefully hiding the twisted mess her stomach had turned itself into while in his presence.
He was so intense and... inexplicably more handsome today with his hair in disarray and his cravat slightly askew, than he’d been the last time she’d seen him. How was that possible? She shook her head, unsure of the answer but keenly aware that his masculine presence was to blame for her turbulent nerves.
Her heart still beat a wild rhythm against her chest, not only because she’d so desperately longed for him to agree with her plan, but because of Florian himself. As usual, he’d been all seriousness without the tiniest hint of a smile, and although this had increased her awareness of him, it had also given her the opportunity to study the carved planes of his jaw and the sculpted shape of his mouth without the interference of laugh lines.
His nose was patrician, his eyes a deep shade of infinite blue. But what drew her attention the most—what had always drawn her attention where he was concerned—was the color of his hair. It was a beautiful shade of copper, the rich tones shifting in the light falling through the window behind him. Coupled with his features, he presented an image of virile beauty and uniqueness. Add his profession and the man demanded admiration. So much so it was a wonder he hadn’t yet married—a puzzling notion she chose not to dwell on since doing so was likely to fluster her even more.
Reaching the carriage, Juliette climbed in and waited for her maid to follow. The door closed and she slumped back against the squabs. “That went so much better than I expected,” she muttered on an exhalation of breath. She’d always spoken candidly with Sarah and appreciated her frankness in return.
“Really?” Sarah asked from her spot beside her.
“I thought he might be more resistant.” But she’d been wrong. Although Florian had wanted to know the details of what she planned, he’d readily agreed to her involvement.
“He would have been a fool to turn you away, my lady.”
“You’re probably right and yet I’m still having trouble believing how simple it was to accomplish my goal. My nerves still haven’t settled.” Giving her attention to the passing street view, Juliette said, “My sister has found her purpose in the school she opened last year while Raphe makes a difference every day when he visits Parliament. I only want the same and this is important, Sarah. People will die unless something is done to prevent it.”
“They will do so anyway, my lady. You heard what Florian said. Typhus is incurable.”
“I know, but with the extra funds there’s a chance that fewer will have to do so,” Juliette murmured. “The thought of the people I grew up with not getting the treatment they deserve because they can’t afford it is more than I can bear. Their suffering not only pains me, but compels me to try and do what I can in order to help.”
“And so you will by offering up your allowance,” Sarah said with the sort of admiration that could not be feigned. “No other lady would do so, I assure you.”
“You had a visitor earlier,” Viola Cartwright, Dowager Duchess of Tremaine, said while Florian stitched his patient’s wound shut.
The severely broken arm had required surgery. There was still no guarantee it would mend satisfactorily or that the young man to whom it belonged would ever be able to use it again. But Florian had done his best. He dropped the bloodied needle into the dish Viola held and went to wash his hands. “We’ll need to dress that and bandage it well before he’s taken up to the ward for recovery.”
“I will take care of it. As soon as you tell me why the Duke of Huntley’s sister came here to see you personally.” As the founder of St. Agatha’s and Florian’s employer, the young widow had always made a point of knowing what went on at her hospital. Labeled an upstart on account of her hasty marriage to a dying old man, she was a woman with whom Florian had felt a connection from the start. Both had scandalous backgrounds, though hers was publicly known while his was not.
He sighed. “You would rather leave our patient on the operating table than let me avoid this conversation?”
