The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,27
quite so well attended.”
Her mother lifted her chin, setting the silk orchid on her bonnet to bobbing. “They came for the magistrate, and they came for their spa hostess. They’ll come for their physician too.”
“Then perhaps you should be planning Doctor Bennett’s wedding instead of mine,” Abigail joked.
Her mother blinked. “But dear, they are one and the same.”
“Now, Mother,” she started.
“May we join you?” Linus asked as he and Ethan came alongside them in the procession. Ethan looked up her hopefully. She offered him a smile. How mature he looked in his Sunday best. How sad his mother was not here to see it.
“Of course,” her mother said before she could answer. “Don’t you look handsome, Ethan, and you as well, Doctor Bennett. I’m sure Abigail agrees.”
Abigail brightened her smile. “Everyone looks very festive.”
Linus nodded toward her arm. “I see you managed to contrive a sling.”
Abigail touched the shawl draped strategically to protect her injured arm. “Miss Pierce the younger found the perfect complement, and we are negotiating to sell similar items in the shop.”
“And should I then expect to see more arm injuries in the area?” he asked.
He was teasing her. A light shimmered in the grey of his eyes, like sunlight skipping across the waves. Warmth spread through her.
“No arm injuries,” she assured him, “but I hope the fashion will catch hold.”
Her mother offered her hand to Ethan. “Walk with me, sir, and I will tell you all about your village.”
Ethan took her hand, and she went ahead of them, leaving Abigail to walk with Linus.
“Perhaps I should listen,” he said. “I still feel like a stranger here.”
“Then you have not seen the admiring looks cast your way,” Abigail told him. “You are much respected, sir. Grace-by-the-Sea has needed a physician for some time.”
He grimaced. “Yet there I am, stuck in the spa. Your case is the only one I’ve been asked to consult on in the village.”
Abigail glanced at him. “You want to treat everyone?”
“Certainly. When I became a physician, I vowed to treat all. I assumed there would be more need at the spa, but, most days, my appointments fill up less than half of my time.”
Abigail snapped a nod. “Then we must see you put to better use. Give me a day or two, and I’ll work it out.”
His brows went up. “Very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want you to exert yourself on my behalf.”
“Why not? Jesslyn isn’t the only one good at organizing things. By the way, Eva and I talked. We will come help at the spa while Jess is away.”
“Do you expect me to break the place?” he asked.
Abigail laughed. “Well, it’s been known to happen when one puts a gentleman in charge.”
“And your shop?” he asked.
That had been more difficult to arrange. Who could she trust?
“I decided to enlist the aid of Mrs. Truant at the Swan,” she told him. “She knows something about handling money and keeping things organized from her work at the inn, and she doesn’t supply me with any goods, so she should be an impartial clerk when it comes to selling items to customers.”
They reached the assembly rooms then. He stood in the doorway and blocked anyone else from entering so she had pride of place going through the door. Protecting her arm, of course.
“I must sit with Jess and the wedding party,” she explained as they followed her mother and Ethan into the long, high-ceilinged room, which had been decorated with flowers and crape streamers.
“Then perhaps I’ll see you later,” he said, giving her a bow.
Why was it so hard to walk away? Abigail had to make herself go take her seat. As Jess’s attendant, she warranted a place high on the table. So did Lark’s family, including his mother, sisters Rosemary and Hester, and Hester’s six-year-old daughter, Rebecca. The adults all nodded their greetings as she approached. Rebecca was too busy squirming in her pink satin dress.
As Abigail took the chair Mr. Inchley’s younger son held out for her, she spotted her mother, Ethan, and Linus taking places farther down. Doctor Owens and some of the other spa guests settled around them. Jess had decided against precedence and allowed her other guests to sit where they preferred.
“Miss Archer.” She turned to find Quillan St. Claire bowing beside her. Raven-haired, broad-shouldered, and well-favored, he looked particularly dashing today in his naval uniform. She’d only met him a few times but always with great delight. Mrs. Tully might praise a fellow in a red