The Lady in the Tower Read Online Free Page A

of Sir
Reginald Fitzgerald. His surgical skills had been widely lauded, and as a
student, Richard had been fortunate to observe the old man in action in the
surgical theater. He’d been so impressed that he’d toyed with the idea of
quitting the Royal College and apprenticing surgery instead. Napoleon had
altered that plan, and despite everything that had happened to him on the
Continent, Richard regretted nothing.
    He noted how
Lady Kilkenny’s lips were now pressed into a stubborn
line. She was both more and less than his memory recalled. He’d remembered her
beauty, of course. He’d been hard pressed to forget it. Wheat-blonde
hair with a bewitching tendency to curl. Storm-blue
eyes that reflected every thought and emotion. A feminine, lithe figure
that belied a will he had discovered was indomitable at best, and
inconveniently irritating at worst.
    When he’d
first met her, resentful of his presence and distressed at her husband’s
looming death, her loveliness had affected him far more than it should have. As
was only proper, she’d been oblivious to his reaction, which he’d hidden as
well as he could, and for that he was thankful. But for a man who prided
himself on his professionalism, the fact that he’d let her bother him at all
still rankled.
    Since then,
he’d been tantalized with her appearance in the scandal sheets as the “wicked
widow.” There were several circulating stories, each with varied degrees of
sensational, indecent accounts. One had her stripping naked to swim in the
ornamental lake at Ranelagh . Another had her
carousing with gamesters in Vauxhall. The most recent had her undressing a man
in the lobby of a hotel.
    One thing he
had been able to gather from the stories: apparently someone always ended up
naked.
    He tried
reconciling the image of the “wicked widow,” the memory he had of her from
nearly a year ago, and the woman who sat across from him now. When he’d first
met her, grief and exhaustion had given her a veil of fragility. Then, after reading
about her in the gossip columns, his imagination had added layers of sultry
sensuousness. But now that he sat across from her in his own carriage, and
could actually see her and not just rely upon his overly excited imagination,
he realized that Lady Kilkenny reflected neither of
the images he’d cultivated. Instead of delicate paleness, her complexion had
the creamy rosiness of good health. Instead of audacious brazenness, she
appeared every inch the collected, elegant gentlewoman.
    That wasn’t to
say she wasn’t bold, for she was. She’d had no trouble interjecting herself
this morning into his consult with the duchess.
    It had been an
interesting morning. Clearly she and the duchess were far more than
acquaintances. However, the needs of the patient always came first, despite
what the physician wanted, desired or even needed. This was the only reason
he’d allowed her to progress at all with her so-called essential oils. Since
the duchess had seemed to be soothed by them, and Jane’s presence, there had been
no harm in allowing it.
    He flexed his
sore calf, the cold making it ache. If his companion hadn’t been with him, he
would have stretched his leg onto the seat opposite. But as it was, the seat
was occupied, and he found that despite his discomfort, he was glad of it.
    The landau
shuddered suddenly as it hit a bump in the road and he gritted his teeth
against the pain that launched through his leg. He glanced at his companion,
and was gratified that she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she was gripping the
door handle as if ready to fling it open and make a mad dash for freedom.
    She’s a bundle
of nerves, this one. “I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. I admired
him greatly.”
    Her gaze
finally turned his way. “Thank you.”
    “Did he teach
you?” At her raised brow, he continued, “You dealt well with the duchess.”
    “He taught me
everything he knew,” she said simply.
    When Richard
thought