Three Weeks With Lady X(39)

"Oh, I couldn't!" Lady Rainsford rarely spent time in bed. There was, Lala thought cynically, no audience in a bedchamber.

"You must think of your health above all else," Lady Adelaide said  firmly. "I shall check on you regularly throughout the day, and Dr.  Hatfield will visit every morning. That nice butler Fleming can appoint a  footman to wait in the corridor, so your maid will be able to ask for  anything you might like."                       
       
           



       

"Oh, there's no need for that," Lady Rainsford said. "Lala can simply run down the stairs."

"Oh, but dear Lala will be with the party," Lady Adelaide said, smiling  brightly. "I know that the last thing you would want is to prevent your  darling daughter from enjoying the country."

"I recommend absolute quiet," the doctor said. "Peacefulness. You may  ask your daughter to read to you for an hour in the afternoon if you  wish, but other than that, I should like you to remain quite calm and  entertain only an occasional visitor."

Lady Rainsford laughed, and before Lala drew a breath, she said, "My daughter can't read, so that won't happen."

"I shall read to you," Lady Adelaide said swiftly, as Lala tried to blink back tears of pure humiliation.

Her mother wouldn't reveal such a thing in front of Mr. Dautry. Would she?

Dr. Hatfield met Lala's eyes and asked kindly, "I trust you do not have a problem with your vision, Miss Rainsford?"

She shook her head miserably. If only stupidity could be cured with spectacles, she would wear them happily.

Dr. Hatfield bent over the bed once more, hand on her mother's wrist. "I  am quite worried by the agitation of your pulse, Lady Rainsford. Those  with a weak heart often overtax themselves, not realizing that their  loved ones would actually prefer that they live a long and happy life."

Lady Rainsford opened her mouth again, but this time Lala jumped in.  "Mama, I must beg you to take advantage of this opportunity to rest and  recover from the journey. This chamber is charming."

Indeed, it was. A tall window stood open to the warm afternoon breeze,  which carried in the fragrance of flowers. The walls were covered in a  delicate patterned silk, and the rug on the floor glowed in the  sunlight.

Lala had never been in such a tasteful bedchamber in her life, and she  didn't think her mother had either. Well, at least not since those  lauded days when her mother had served as a lady-in-waiting to the  queen. Lala happened to know that her term of service had been a mere  two months, but to hear her mother tell it, she had been the queen's  most beloved companion.

"You needn't worry about your daughter," Lady Adelaide was saying. "I  shall chaperone her fiercely, my dear, fiercely. I have done the same  for Lady Xenobia, and I am proud to say that, even given Lady Xenobia's  adventuresome constitution, not a hint of scandal has ever been breathed  about her."

"Well, as to that," Lala's mother said, her voice sharpening, as it did when she was about to impart unpleasant news.

But Dr. Hatfield moved forward and said, "Lady Rainsford, I do not want  you to stir from this bed for two days or I cannot be responsible for  the consequences. Do you understand me?"

Lala saw her mother's eyes grow large.

"Yes, Doctor."

He bowed once again and headed for the door. Lala hurried after him,  glad that she had her reticule, because she needed to pay him. And thank  him, if she could think how to phrase it correctly.

In the end, it wasn't hard to thank him, because he refused to hear it.  And he refused payment as well, but merely looked at her and asked,  "What happens when you try to read?"

His eyes were so sympathetic that Lala told him the truth. "Nothing  happens," she confessed. "I can see letters and numbers, just like  anyone else. I simply can't remember which ones go where. I'm too-I'm  too stupid for that." The last part came out in a whisper, even lower  than she normally spoke, because she wished she didn't have to say it.  Not to a man like this.

He had taken his hat from the butler and put it on. But he looked down  at her, with his serious face and those beautiful navy eyes, and said,  "Miss Rainsford, I am quite certain that you are not stupid."

That was very kind of him. If untrue. "Please don't suggest that you can  teach me to read," she said, noticing out of the corner of her eye that  Fleming had taken himself away, and they were alone in the entry. "My  parents paid dearly for tutor after tutor, but I simply can't do it."

"No, I suspect you'll never be able to read," he said briskly.

Lala swallowed hard. She knew it; everyone knew it. Still, it was painful to hear, especially from him.

"You're likely not seeing the letters in the same order as everyone else. Or you see them in a different order each time."

"I do see them in the same order as others. I can read aloud the  individual letters." She could feel her cheeks glowing. "At any rate,  Dr. Hatfield, I want to thank you again for your kind attentiveness to  my mother. I know she'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow."                       
       
           



       

Lady Xenobia popped her head out of the drawing room and said, "Good  afternoon, Dr. Hatfield! I trust Lady Rainsford is simply weary from the  journey? Lala, once you have seen the doctor off, I thought you might  join us. We're starting a game of whist, and you can partner Mr.  Dautry." She disappeared again.

"Can you play?" the doctor asked.

Lala shook her head. The numbers on playing cards rattled around and  slid off the cards, the same way that letters did from pages. "I'll make  an excuse." She began to drop a curtsy, but he caught her arm.

"You needn't curtsy to a country doctor."

Another stupid mistake. By now, she was probably as red as a brightly painted children's ball. "I apologize."

"You needn't apologize either." His hand tightened. "You're to partner Mr. Dautry?"

She met his eyes, knowing that her utter misery was undisguised. "Yes,"  she whispered, managing a wobbly smile. She'd never had such an odd  conversation in her life, but the important thing was that Dr. Hatfield  wasn't disgusted by her inability to read or play cards. By her  stupidity, in other words.

She could tell from the way he looked at her. Just as she could tell  that he felt sorry for her, because he had guessed she was supposed to  marry Mr. Dautry, and he didn't think they'd suit.

"I'm going on rounds this afternoon," he said. "Would you like to accompany me?"

"Rounds?"

"I go about to see my patients." He jerked his head toward the open door and his vehicle, a dilapidated black carriage.

Lala looked down at her morning dress and her slippers. His gaze followed hers.

"Of course you don't," he said, his eyes going flat. "Miss Rainsford, I  apologize for such an untoward request. I must bid you good day."

"I couldn't go without a chaperone," she said, a little breathlessly.

His mouth tightened.

"Just a maid," she added. "And my bonnet! Wait, please wait. Just a moment."

Fleming miraculously reappeared and produced her bonnet as well as a  maid, because Lala didn't have a lady's maid. And asking if her mother's  maid could accompany her would ensure that Lady Rainsford learned of  her daughter's improper excursion.

She was almost in the carriage before it occurred to her that she ought  to leave notice with someone other than the butler. She ran back to the  house, ignoring the fact that Dr. Hatfield would be able to see her from  behind, and said breathlessly to Fleming, "Please tell Lady Adelaide  that I've gone on rounds." She turned without waiting for an answer.

Which meant that she didn't see Fleming smile as he closed the door behind her.





Chapter Twenty-two

As India dressed for dinner that night, her mind kept veering toward  Thorn. She gave herself a silent scolding and made herself think about  Lord Brody instead, but two minutes later she found herself slipping  back to a memory of the way Thorn had kissed her good-night after they'd  walked home from the gatehouse.

Probably many women had memories like these. The fact that she'd been  happier in the hammock, in his arms, than she'd ever been in her life . .  . that was irrelevant. He belonged to someone else. He wanted someone  else.

Not her.

Maybe if she told herself that daily for the next year, she would stop thinking about him.

Even so, she dressed with more care than she had dressed for anything in  her life, not allowing herself to think too hard about why she was  determined to be-what was the word Thorn had used? Delectable.