Regency Temptation. Christine Merrill
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know most of them,’ she admitted.
‘You do?’ This seemed to surprise him.
‘I have studied,’ she admitted. ‘I ordered the same texts you used in Edinburgh and read them cover to cover.’
Another man might have questioned her ability to understand them. But all that Sam said was, ‘Does your father know?’
It was difficult to meet his gaze and admit the truth. Eve had not thought of herself as a deceptive person, when he had left her. Although she often disagreed with her father, she never set out to disobey him. But she had suspected in this it would be necessary and had kept the extent of her knowledge a secret from him. ‘You know he does not. He would never have approved of it. He thinks I tend to the sick in the same way other women do, by bringing broth and good wishes, and the sort of herbal tinctures that Mother would have used had she survived. But I prefer to be more scientific about it.’ Then a thought occurred to her. ‘You will not tell him, will you?’
Sam laughed. ‘Of course not.’ And then he grew serious. ‘Nor will I tell St Aldric. I doubt he is expecting a wife with such outré hobbies.’
If Sam loved her as she hoped, he could use the information to his advantage and spoil her chances with the duke. Instead, he was being noble. She sighed. ‘The ways of men are very confusing. They have no care if we women meddle with illnesses, as long as we do it in ignorance. Do they not want people to recover?’ She tipped her head to the side and watched Sam for an honest reaction as she asked the next question. ‘What do you think of my dabbling? Am I wrong to want to practise what I can read clear on the page?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I do not think I approve. There are many things I have seen in the service of medicine that I would not wish upon you. But I also know how difficult it is to dissuade you when you take an idea into your head. You have your own mind, Evie. No amount of disapproval on my part is likely to change it.’ But the fact of the matter did not seem to frustrate or anger him. He was looking at her with the calm acceptance that she had hoped to see.
‘Do you think I might make a decent physician?’
‘The colleges will not train you, of course,’ he said. ‘But if they would, you are quick witted enough. You say you know the contents of my bag?’
She nodded. ‘Of course.’ She held up a tool. ‘Forceps, to deliver babies. They are unnecessary, you know. The majority of births can be sorted out in other ways, if one is patient and has small hands.’
His eyes widened. ‘You speak from experience?’
‘Do you not remember our old country home? Thorne Hall is quite remote. The nearest doctor is miles away and we have learned to manage without a physician. I have grown to be quite a capable midwife, Dr Hastings.’
‘And you limit yourself to that?’ She had feared censure from him. But the question was asked with good-natured resignation, as though he already knew the answer.
‘Perhaps I am more deeply involved in care than some people would wish,’ she admitted. ‘And perhaps I go more frequently to sick beds and birthing rooms than propriety requires. It is not as if I take money for the things I do.’
‘Well, then …’ he said, with an ironic smile. ‘As long as you are no threat to my business.’
‘No threat at all. And I suspect you have little practice with childbirth, if you have been on a ship full of men.’ She set the forceps aside. ‘Especially if you rely on these things. There is a place for them, of course. But most times I can do without them.’
He bowed his head to hide his smile. ‘Then I yield to your superior experience in that part of the field. What else do you think to teach me?’
She pointed to the drill. ‘This is for the trepanning of the skull. And here are the implements that scrape away the scalp and lift the bones from the wound.’ She picked it up and gave the handle a turn. The thought of saving a person by drilling holes into their head was really quite amazing. ‘Did you ever have to do such a thing?’
He laughed again. ‘You have not changed at all, Evie. Your curiosity is as gruesome as ever. Yes, I have used it. Once successfully. Once not.’ As though he wished to change the subject he advanced to the chest and pulled out an ebony tube. ‘But I am sure you will not recognise this.’
She turned it over in her hands, looking for some clue to indicate its purpose. ‘I have no idea.’
‘That is not surprising. I suspect I have one of the few in England. I got it off a French surgeon on a prize ship we took. It takes the place of the percussion hammer, when sounding the lungs and listening to the heart.’
‘How wondrous. You must show me.’ She leaned forwards on her knees and held it out to him.
Something about this alarmed him. He stared at it for a moment and then at her. Then he took a breath, swallowed and placed one end against the bare skin above her bodice, then gingerly put his ear to the other. He moved the tube to several locations on her chest, requested that she breathe deeply each time and, with a scholarly nod, pronounced her sound. He withdrew with obvious relief.
So the nearness of her frightened him, did it? He had put on his best professional demeanour before attempting to examine her. But she had been well schooled in breaking down a man’s objections. Those lessons would do for a drawing room, but with Sam she could be more direct. She smiled, sweetly. ‘Now I must do you.’ She took the tube away from him without waiting for permission. Then she undid several of the buttons on his waistcoat and spread the opening of his shirt hiding under the cravat.
‘Evelyn!’ He tried to back away from her and bumped into the headboard of the bed behind him.
She laughed. ‘Oh, Sam. Do not be such a girl.’ And then she leaned forwards to listen.
The sounds were strange and hollow, compared to simply putting one’s head to the chest of the patient, but the clarity was uncanny. As she listened, she heard the slight hitch in respiration, as though he could not manage to breathe normally. His heartbeat, compared to what she considered normal, was hard and rapid. For a moment, it worried her. Perhaps he was ill. Had his absence concealed some physical problem?
Or the rapid beat might be the sign she had hoped for. She put her hand on the bare skin of his chest to steady the tube and felt his breathing stop all together, even though his heart was racing.
It was her. He might pretend otherwise, but to have her near affected him in ways he could not control.
To test the theory, she moved her hand again and felt his heart jump. Then she looked up at him with a long slow smile.
He looked back with an expression she might have described as shattered.
‘Why, Dr Hastings …’ she removed the tube, but left her hand flat against the warm bare skin of his chest ‘… you are most excitable today.’
‘Evie.’ It was the warning tone of someone afraid of getting caught in an indiscretion.
She ignored it. ‘Samuel?’ She scratched her nails lightly against the skin of his chest, amazed at her own boldness, and waited for his reserve to crack.
Instead, he gripped her hand and removed it from his person, arranging his clothes to hide the place she had touched. ‘Do not behave nonsensically. If someone were to discover you touching a man that way, it would do no good to claim it began as an interest in medicine. You would be quite ruined.’
‘I am not touching any man,’ she explained patiently, kneeling at his feet. ‘It is just you.’
‘Just me.’ He let out a resigned sigh. ‘You must remember we are grown now, Evelyn. The games that might have seemed quite natural twenty years ago are no longer proper.’
‘Are there other games that might be more appropriate?’ It was a daring question and she wondered how he might answer it.
‘No.’ He wet