A Warriner to Tempt Her Read online

  He stalked to the door and was almost through it by the time the voice inside called out in panic, ‘Please don’t send me away. My work at this infirmary has been everything to me these past few weeks... I can’t go backwards. Not now.’ Bella wanted to cry and he heard it.

  He halted and turned to face her slowly. ‘Backwards?’ His deep blue eyes were watching her intently, reminding her this man was more intelligent than any man she had encountered before, when Bella was used to being the most intelligent person in any room. ‘Backwards from what?’

  If she told him, would he think her mind addled like all the other doctors? The real her was tempted to trust him, because he was so different from the other physicians who had been thrust upon her, but it was too great a risk. A woman with an addled mind had no place tending to sick children, not when she could barely function as herself. More than one London doctor had told her family she had no place being in society any longer because the damage to her mind was too entrenched. A nice place in the countryside might be better, with people to attend to her every need. People who understood her particular kind of condition. Because the addled needed to be hidden from sight if they refused to be treated, in case they were contagious.

  Bella tried to control her breathing and temper the panic in her voice. ‘I have more than a passing interest in medicine... I have always studied it. But a career in medicine is not an option for a woman. We are supposed to embroider or paint or press flowers, not read about stethoscopes or anatomy. Here I can pursue science in the only avenue available to me.’ His face was now more curious than hostile. ‘I have been learning so much—both from you and from the practical experience of nursing. If that is taken away from me...’ Tears prickled at her eyes again. Endless days filled with anxiety stretched on the horizon. ‘Please let me stay here. Just for a few weeks. I will be careful to make sure my father never knows.’

  * * *

  Jake’s suggestion that gently bred young ladies enjoyed the thrill of dallying with a rogue had bothered Joe. Whilst he was almost certain he had no designs on Bella, the thought she might be using him to amuse herself or thwart her father with one of those shocking ‘wild’ Warriners hurt. He didn’t want to be any society lady’s entertainment again or bring any more unwelcome or unwarranted gossip to his family. Not when he was building up both his practice and his reputation against the odds stacked against him.

  But his gut told him her distress might be sincere. Joe understood the burning desire to learn and to be thwarted. For years, he had been denied the opportunity of studying medicine properly because there had not been the money to send him to school. He’d never blamed his eldest brother, Jack, for the poverty. Jack had tried and tried to save enough to help him pursue his dream of obtaining a medical licence. Only after his eldest brother had married Letty did Joe finally fulfil his ambition and the sense of rightness had been all-encompassing. He finally became who he was destined to be. Seeing Bella’s distress, and realising despite her family’s wealth she would be denied the opportunities he’d had based on her sex, brought him up short. That had been an obstacle he’d not had to contend with. Hell, if he was honest, it had never occurred to him before now. As a male, even a poor Warriner male, he had advantages over half of the population he had been blissfully ignorant of. The knowledge was humbling.

  Bella was clearly a very intelligent young woman with a talent for healing. She had read extensively—good grief, she knew Laennec. That spoke volumes. Little Tom was walking proof of her knowledge and dedication. She had stayed all night to tend to his fever and been here every day since. Maybe she did have more than a passing interest? Enough of a need that unshed tears shimmered in her dark eyes at the thought of losing a fraction of what he took for granted every single day.

  She was staring at him, waiting for him to pass judgement. One fat tear caught on her lower lashes and without thinking his palm cupped her cheek so his thumb could gently brush it away. The tingles shimmered from the pads of his fingers directly to his heart. In the same moment, her breath caught. He heard it because his caught a split second before. She blinked. The only movement as her body was frozen like a statue, but while her body was as rigid as marble her skin was as soft as velvet. Her widened eyes locked with his and Joe couldn’t seem to tear them away. ‘Don’t cry. I’ll keep your secret.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She swallowed nervously and he realised his palm still rested against her cheek. He dropped it, feeling self-conscious and oddly moved. Suddenly, he had no idea what to do with his errant hands, and when no immediate solution presented itself he resorted to clamping them firmly behind his back while he stepped away and walked to stare out of the window again. Whatever had just passed between them was both unfamiliar and a little overwhelming. Definitely something which required further analysis. Lady Isabella had not flirted or batted her eyelashes once, nor used any of the man-traps her sister wielded with so much precision, yet he suddenly had the urge to kiss her. Where had that come from? He was supposed to be in love with her sister. How could he be hopelessly in love with Clarissa if he kept having these peculiar thoughts about Bella?

  Behind him, he heard the rustle of her petticoats as she moved. It reminded him of her legs and the inexplicable urge to kiss her turned from something sweet and tender to something warm and physical.

  Desire.

  Joe knew the symptoms as well as any man and understood them more than most. A basic need of all living creatures, like the need for air or food, except this time it was led by his head, not his loins. Or perhaps he was merely having an odd male moment brought on by the sight of that single female tear. He turned to see if the urge waned or increased at the sight of her. She now had her back to him and was stripping the sheets from the bed, no doubt as a way of coping with the awkward atmosphere his wayward hand had caused by touching her.

  He should probably apologise or, even better, brush it off with his customary professional detachment and pretend nothing at all was amiss, when his mind was racing and his heart was hammering and for the life of him he couldn’t recall what her sister looked like at all. For weeks he had been convinced he had been attracted to the ethereal, out-of-reach Clarissa, yet he had no memory now of her face or voice or scent. Three things which had resolutely occupied his brain had now disappeared like steam from a kettle after one brief touch of her shy and confusing sister. The conundrum.

  Words failed him, so Joe simply stood and found himself gazing at her bottom as she moved. Like her legs, it was very nice indeed, rounded, womanly. Beautifully curved hips flared from a trim, small waist, yet he had not noticed those attributes before now. Raw, unadulterated lust burned hotter.

  Unhelpful, unwelcome and totally unexpected.

  A harried-looking Mrs Giles burst through the door and saved them both from having to talk about it. ‘Oh, thank goodness! You are still here, Dr Warriner. One of the girls has had an accident!’ One look at the older woman’s face and he knew he couldn’t dawdle. Joe chased the matron down the stairs and out into the garden.

  When his sister-in-law Letty had first set up the foundling home, she had insisted the children have a proper area to play. A small crowd of concerned faces were gathered near one of the rope swings suspended from the sturdiest tree. As was so often the case, they parted the moment one of them spied him, allowing him to take in the scene and take charge.

  His patient was one of the older girls of about twelve. He remembered her name was Molly because he had treated her for malnutrition when she had first arrived in the home almost two years ago. She was lying flat on her back, her face scrunched up in agony, her right leg thrown out at a worryingly odd angle. Much as the situation concerned him, Joe was mindful never to let his patients witness his fears. He knelt beside the child and smiled.

  ‘I might have known it was you, Molly. Were you swinging too fast again? When I was a boy, my brothers and I used to try to get our swing high enough to kick the clouds. It never happened, of course, but we
persisted regardless.’

  Joe kept up the inane chatter while he gently lifted the hem of Molly’s skirt and assessed the damage. Her leg was unmistakably broken and it was a bad break. Blood was already caking around the woollen stocking on her calf and he could see a small part of the bone protruding from the wound. The poor thing must be in agony; moving her was not going to be pleasant.

  ‘Can you boys get some clean sheets from the infirmary?’ Bella’s instruction came from behind him and he turned to see her smiling down at the girl before her eyes flicked to his. ‘I thought we could carefully slide one under her and then use it as a makeshift stretcher—in the absence of a real stretcher, that is.’

  It was a good idea. Seeing that she had already proved herself to be eminently capable, Joe did not hesitate to trust her. ‘Carrying her upstairs might be problematic at this stage. Can you organise my things in the dining room? I will use one of the tables in there to examine her properly.’

  Bella nodded briskly and hurried off, taking a few of the older children with her as helpers. Joe took off his cravat and carefully tied Molly’s ankles together, hoping the good leg would provide some support for the broken one when they came to lift her. The less the bone was disturbed between now and him resetting it, the better.

  It was Bella who came back with the sheets and rather cleverly she had folded them into a concertinaed strip. With his help she was able to thread the fabric beneath the girl’s waist, then they were able to slide the sheet open beneath her. Several burly market traders had been press-ganged into helping, so while Bella supervised and issued helpful instructions, Joe and the other men were able to lift the child without too much disturbance and carry her inside.

  The dining room had quickly been turned into a physician’s surgery. Most of the furniture had been cleared and fresh linens had been draped over the largest of the refectory tables. To one side she had also organised a smaller table for his equipment, which was all laid out in readiness, alongside bandages and a steaming bowl of water. He could smell the tell-tale aroma of gin and was impressed by her diligence. She had listened to him and learned, then put it into practice without hesitation. ‘I have sent for ice and set the gardener to fashion some splints. I assume you are going to reset the bone.’

  Tactfully, she had come up next to him and spoken in hushed tones so as not to distress Molly. ‘The bone is protruding from her shin. This procedure will be very painful. I am hoping it is a clean break, but the fact it is now an open wound is a worry. Such fractures often turn gangrenous and end in amputation.’ He kept his own voice quiet.

  ‘Perhaps some laudanum might be in order before you begin? Enough to take the worst of the pain away.’

  Joe agreed. Whilst it was common practice to keep a patient lucid during surgery, Molly was just a child and he did not want to cause her undue stress. They cleared the room of all but a few people. Two strong men to hold the girl in place if needed and, at Bella’s insistence, Molly’s closest friend. Bella gave the girl a few drops of laudanum, stroked her hair and soothed her. As Molly’s eyelids began to droop, Bella stood and instructed the wide-eyed friend to continue in her stead. ‘Avoid looking at what the physician is doing, Daisy. Your job is to chatter away to Molly to distract her. If she wakes, I want her to see a friendly face to ease her fears.’

  Briskly, and without needing to be told, she handed him scissors. Joe cut away the bloodied woollen stocking and his worst fears were confirmed. A good two inches of bone stood proud from the wound, but on first inspection it did appear the bone had snapped rather than shattered. It was a small consolation. In the time it had taken to move the child to the house, the muscles in her leg had already contracted significantly, so those would need stretching back before the bone could be set in its proper place. Times like this always made him grateful for the years of having to labour on the family estate. Whilst poverty had been hard, it had given him a broad back and a strong pair of arms, two things essential when dealing with broken legs.

  Once again, Bella anticipated what he needed without needing to be told. She brought the hot water and some gauze and helped him to clean the wound. It was a nasty one and certainly not for the faint-hearted, yet she never baulked once at the sight. The splints arrived. Two sturdy strips of wood secured at one end with a smaller piece of wood joining them together, the width of a child’s foot. How had she known to do that, when many doctors simply made do with a basic pair of splints? Then he remembered her reading had extended beyond the common medical books used in the home. The rigidity of these splints when bound would keep the bone straight and allow Molly to walk with it. She deftly weaved strips of bandage beneath the girl’s leg, ready to tie them in place when the time came, then with the men, Bella held Molly immobile as Joe braced himself to set the leg.

  ‘Once I align the bone, can you begin to strap it up?’

  She nodded, clearly concentrating intently, and Joe got to work. Despite the laudanum, the girl cried out, yet Bella impressed him with her single-minded determination to ignore the cries and do what needed to be done. After what seemed like an eternity, the bone finally came together, but with Molly’s muscles now quite contracted it took all of Joe’s strength to keep it in place. Bella began quickly lashing the splint in place, her teeth clenched with the exertion of pulling the bandages taut across the wooden frame. By the time she had finished, Molly was thankfully unconscious, the leg was perfectly straight and it would take more than a simple pair of scissors to destroy their work.

  ‘We should move her up to the infirmary now, before the laudanum wears off.’ She issued orders sparsely, but effectively, he noted. Using the sheet on the table and simple, concise instructions meant the men could transfer the girl to a stretcher and carry her safely up the stairs without incident. Joe found himself with a bowl of hot water and soap to clean himself up, a cup of hot coffee put into his hand by Mrs Giles and nothing whatsoever pressing to do. As Mrs Giles had never done either thing before without his asking, he knew he had Bella to thank.

  ‘Does Lady Isabella drink tea or coffee?’

  ‘Tea, Dr Warriner.’

  ‘Then make her some, please, and I shall take it up to her.’ They had both worked hard and needed refreshment. Especially as their work was far from done. ‘And see if you can rustle up some biscuits. She is fond of those.’ At the foundling home, at least, it appeared he now had an able assistant. Whatever else he was foolishly thinking about Bella was probably best ignored.

  Chapter Eight

  The last three weeks had been some of the best of Bella’s life. She had managed to sneak away to the infirmary almost every day for a few hours without rousing her father’s suspicions. If anything, he was buoyed at seeing her so purposeful and invigorated. Of course, he believed she was helping the needy through the ladies’ circle, not nursing the sick at the Warriner foundling home, so she was careful never to so much as blink whenever any mention of the family was made.

  But Dr Warriner had not only allowed her to continue, he had begun to teach her things and delegate certain treatments entirely to her. It was marvellous. Under his tutorage, she was learning how to discern the different sounds within the human body using her stethoscope, plan treatments and make her own diagnoses, and just yesterday—when she had claimed to be shopping for ribbons—he had allowed her to stitch a small wound closed using ligatures under his supervision. It had been daunting and thrilling in equal measure, yet the sense of accomplishment she had experienced afterwards had quite made her forget about the incident or her close proximity to a man for the entire duration of the day.

  The only day which had proved to be problematic was Sunday. Her father insisted they all go to church, then spend the day together as a family, which left Bella twiddling her thumbs and overthinking things. When she could, she sneaked back to her room and devoured one of the scientific journals Dr Warriner had lent her, but it was no substitute for practising medicine.

  Or for seeing him.
/>   Not that she saw him every day. Some days his heavy workload meant he did not make it to the infirmary before dusk, when Bella had left for the day. He usually left her notes telling her what he wanted her to do, detailed instructions written in his shocking spidery scrawl. The writing was often marred by ink spots and smudges where he had written the words with such haste he had forgotten to remove the drips from the nib. However, she couldn’t help but admire his shoddy penmanship. It suggested he was far too busy and occupied with his work to have a care about such trivialities. Bella was coming to understand the scrawl regardless, and as she read each missive she could hear his deep, calm and patient voice almost as if he was stood beside her.

  When he was stood beside her, usually either teaching her some new skill or discussing the children whilst they were both clutching steaming cups in the short, restorative breaks he allowed himself, Bella was constantly aware of him. Although bizarrely, not in the guarded way she usually had around men. Dr Warriner had become both a mentor and an almost-friend since the odd moment they had shared a few weeks ago. Whilst she was convinced he had touched her and brushed away her tears out of doctorly kindness, the moment held more significance for her. It marked the first time a man had touched her in over a year when she had neither flinched, panicked nor wanted to bolt.

  His palm had cupped her cheek, his intelligent eyes had locked with hers, then Bella’s skin had heated beneath his fingers and her heart had skipped a beat beneath her ribs. There had been, she was certain, a moment of perfect clarity when she had known categorically he would never hurt her and that she trusted him. More than that, she realised with a jolt, she was physically attracted to him. His mind, those fathomless blue eyes, the broad shoulders, the large work-roughened hands and those spectacles. The real her inside did not need to tell her it was swooning, because she was the real her. Just for a few moments, she had crawled out of her hiding place within and stood facing him. Once or twice since, there had been similar moments, but no lingering, tender touches.