Bitter laughter was his first response. “Now who is being absurd?” When she merely crossed her arms and challenged him with a hard glare, he said, “My demons would tear her soul to shreds, Viola. You think me a good man, a kind man, because I chose to become a physician and because I always remember the oath I took to help those in need. But you forget that the reason I do so has nothing to do with kindness.”
With a shake of her head she stood. “That’s just a story you tell yourself because you insist you don’t deserve better. But you are not Bartholomew. You are your own person and you have a right to some happiness in your life.”
“I could say the same to you.”
As he’d expected, her expression shuttered and she turned for the door, exiting his office without a backward glance. She’d spoken of her husband only once in the years Florian had known her. Saddened by the thought of her giving her life to the hospital alone, Florian blew out a breath and glanced at his pocket watch. Lady Juliette’s sister and brother-in-law, the Duke and Duchess of Coventry, had invited him to dine this evening. If he hurried home now he’d have time for a bath and a much-needed change of clothes before going to meet them.
Juliette sipped her champagne while listening with half an ear to Amelia and Gabriella share their opinions on the education of children. Of far greater interest was the discussion taking place between Raphe and Coventry on the other side of the room for it involved the speech Florian had delivered to Parliament the previous day, outlining the symptoms of typhus, the progression of it and what he was doing in order to stop it.
Panic had apparently ensued among some, which was to be expected. They’d wanted to know the threat the disease posed to them and their families, but that wasn’t something Florian was able to answer. He had instead advised them on how to practice proper hygiene, and his suggestion to inform the public of the same had been well received.
The parlor door opened, and Jones, the Coventry butler, entered. “Mr. Florian Lowell has arrived.” The man made this announcement and stepped aside, granting Florian entry.
Juliette stared at him as he executed an impeccable bow and came to greet everyone. He was dressed as formally as he’d been when she’d stumbled into him in the Brand House garden. Instinctively, she darted a look in her sister’s direction only to find Amelia regarding her with an unsettling degree of curiosity.
More unsettling were the butterflies taking flight in her stomach and the very obvious fact that the men and women were now evenly paired. She tried not to think of it, but a secret part of her—the part that had sprung awake with a jolt a few days ago when he’d held her—wanted to be close to him again.
And then he was standing before the women and she was rising to her feet, along with Amelia and Gabriella. Solemnly, he thanked his hostess for the invitation and apologized for his tardiness, then complimented Gabriella on how well she looked. Both ladies beamed with pleasure and thanked him for his kindness.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Amelia said, “I must have a word with my husband. Will you join me, Gabriella?”
A quick affirmation left Juliette alone with Florian. After all, it would be intolerably rude if she wandered off as well. So she stayed, battling the turmoil Florian’s close proximity wrought on her nerves.
Slowly, he turned his dark blue eyes on her with such intensity she feared she might start smoldering. “Lady Juliette.” There was a strange degree of sensuality to the way he spoke her name. Or perhaps her silly mind was merely playing tricks on her.
“Florian.” She attempted a smile that he did not reciprocate, but the intensity of his gaze made her feel like the only woman in the world. Her heart leapt in response.
“You look...” He allowed his gaze to slide over her without apology, which in turn caused her skin to tighten around every limb. A muscle ticked in his right cheek. “Lovely.”
She swallowed with a bit more effort than usual. “Thank you.” For a moment they simply stood there staring back at each other until it became too difficult, and she hastily told him, “You look quite... good... yourself.”
Oh how prosaic of her! She squeezed her eyes shut and cursed her lack of verbal proficiency in that moment and his ability to turn her brain to mush.
“My lady?”
Her eyes shot open to find him watching her with curiosity. But there was something else too that looked suspiciously like humor. It warmed her heart and gave her hope. Perhaps one day she’d hear his laughter. Intrigued, she studied him, surprised to find a definite easing of his features and even a sparkle to his eyes.
“Yes?” She finally spoke even though she knew she’d hesitated much too long in doing so.
He leaned a little closer as if intending to share a confidence. “There is nothing wrong with looking good. Indeed I strive to do so as often as possible.” His lips twitched ever so slightly.
Juliette frowned. “Are you mocking me?”
His hand covered his heart and he was once again the face of seriousness. “I would never.” Just then, Amelia announced that dinner was served and Florian offered Juliette his arm. “May I escort you through to the dining room?”
She nodded. Because she wanted to feel the strength of him beneath her hand once more, to savor the opportunity such nearness presented. So she took a step closer, heart pounding in her chest, and linked her arm with his. And as awareness captured her senses, intensified by the masculine scent of bergamot and sandalwood, she started to wonder what it might be like to have him by her side like this forever.
This thought, both startling and terrifying while equally refreshing, made her falter. He steadied her with seemingly little effort and drew her closer. So close she was tempted to lean right into the heat he emitted. Except that would be terribly scandalous and far too revealing. In any case, they were now at the table and he was already pulling out her chair.
“Congratulations once again on becoming the Duke of Redding’s heir,” Coventry said once all their wineglasses had been filled and the starters served.
Florian inclined his head.
“And no one deserves to have such good fortune bestowed upon them more than you,” Raphe added.
The manner in which Florian stiffened and clutched his soup spoon as if the piece of cutlery might save his sanity was not lost on Juliette.
“You do not consider yourself worthy of being a peer?” she quietly asked when the rest of the party had become immersed in conversation.
