The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(272)

He shook his head. "You can't-"



"You told me I needed to learn about the value of money. It can buy labour, food, medicine. One of my gowns can buy how much quinine? Epsom salts? Tell me. I need to know," she asked in a resolute tone.



He had never met a more courageous woman in his life. "You can look at the account books for yourself. They are in my office, behind the desk. Everything calculated down to the last penny. You've already reformed my household. I give you leave to try here. But as you guardian I forbid you to deplete your portfolio in any way, do you hear?"



She nodded. "Yes, Dr. Sanderson."



"Oh, and Arabella," he said as she began to skirt past him to go into the office.



She paused.



Despite himself he put one arm around her and kissed her on the brow, rubbing her back for a moment. "Thank you."



She stroked his shoulder, elated. "Thank you."



They got home at six, hungry as hunters and full of their new plans for the clinic. "You need to bathe first before you do anything else, Arabella, and dress in your evening best. I'll see you in half an hour."



Blake tripped along to his own room, inordinately pleased with the way she had just rolled up her sleeves and got to work.



What a contrast between her and Rosalie, or even Leonore. The former had never disguised her disgust for his chosen profession, which he had wished for from an early age even though his father had possessed a remarkable financial acumen which had raised the family out of relative obscurity.



His father had not been pleased at his son's choice, but the passion and skill with which Blake had helped treat many of the patients had convinced him in the end.



Before he'd died, he had given his son his wholehearted blessing to do what he loved best.



Rosalie had tried to convince him he had more than enough financial perspicacity of his own to give up doctoring.



Leonore pretended to be interested in everything he did, but he had seen her yawn behind her hand far too often when he was speaking of his work.



He had never even dared once mention his Army experiences. It had held little interest for her from any standpoint. Like so many other Britons, they had descried the lack of wine and fashions from France, but could not have cared less about the war otherwise.



By contrast, Arabella had shown an interest in everything he had said and done, and her achievements at the clinic in only one day were astounding.



After they had eaten and relaxed over a cup of coffee, he rose and said, "And now, time to go to Lady Pemberton's."



She raised her brows in surprise. "Are you sure?"



"Your cousins will be there. We must go."



She nodded and rose from her chair. "Very well. Lead on."



He noted she was wearing the bronze gown he had requested. "You look lovely, by the way."



"Thank you." She beamed at the compliment.



He had all to do not to pull her into his arms and show her exactly how lovely he thought she was. He smoothed his bronze cravat and went to fetch their outerwear with a sigh.





Lady Radcliffe's nephew Matthew played master of ceremonies for the evening, organizing charades, games of authors, poetry consequences, and cards.



He paid special attention to Arabella, so much so that she felt as though she were on display like one of the rare creatures in the zoological gardens.



But there was a great deal of good conversation from her two cousins, Adam and Oliver, both tall, dark and good-looking, though not nearly as refined as Blake, nor as full of fascinating information as he when he spoke of his work.



Philip Marshall was there too, and the Elthams. Blake gritted his teeth and tried to smile as Adam and Oliver laughed with her over a rather shocking little rhyming couplet they had come up with.



Philip came over and stated quietly, "I say this to you as a friend, Blake. Marry her, while you have the chance."



Blake started guiltily and began to bluster, "What on earth are you-"



"Please. I will not betray your secret to anyone, but I didn't get where I am today by not knowing people very well. She's a rare woman. If you don't marry her you'll both regret it for the rest of your lives."



"Why should you care?" Blake asked gruffly, eyeing the other man with a wary regard which told Philip he had heard all the rumors about him, and fully believed them. As he had every reason to, Philip had to admit with an inward wince. He was not a good man. Not any longer.



He shrugged. "I might offer for her myself if you persist in being so obtuse. I would now if I thought I could ever make her happy. But she loves you, Blake."



"Nonsense, Philip," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.