The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,28

coat, but there was something commanding about a naval officer. Rosemary Denby must have agreed, for she raised her lorgnette off the front of her azure gown and studied him through it.

“Captain St. Claire,” Abigail acknowledged. “A pleasure to see you.”

“And you,” he assured her, gaze traveling down her frame and lighting with appreciation that brought a blush to her cheek. “I wonder, would you save me a dance later?”

Rosemary’s lorgnette tumbled from her fingers.

Abigail was nearly as stunned. Once she would have leaped to accept his offer. Now she could only smile her regrets. “I fear I must decline. My arm isn’t up to such challenges yet. It took the utmost persuasion to convince Doctor Bennett to allow me to attend the wedding.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, eyeing the shawl. “Your gift from the Grace-by-the-Sea militia. I’d forgotten. Another time, then.”

“Assuredly,” Abigail promised.

“I’m certain other ladies will be glad to take her place,” Rosemary went so far as to suggest.

He bowed. “You honor me, Miss Denby. But I dance rarely. Bum knee, you know.”

She frowned as he made his way down the table.

Odd. It was as if he’d singled her out. Abigail had been hoping he’d ask her to dance the last few times he’d attended the weekly assembly. Now, she didn’t feel the least disappointed to refuse him. Instead, her gaze sought out Linus, and lingered.

~~~

“I had no idea the village held so many people,” Doctor Owens was saying beside Linus as the first course was served, a white soup smelling of savory onions and herbs.

“Miss Chance is highly respected,” Mrs. Archer, on his other side, put in before nodding to Ethan to try the soup.

At least she was encouraging something more than sweets at the moment. Linus had a feeling his son would be stuffed with sugar by the end of the meal. He would have to have a discussion with the lady about a healthful diet for growing children.

“I recognize a few acquaintances,” Owens said, glancing around. “Lord Featherstone there with Mrs. Rand. Crabapple with Mrs. Harding. Donner. George. But what of that fellow speaking with Miss Archer?”

Linus glanced up the table. He hadn’t met the man either, but he couldn’t like the way his arm rested on the back of Abigail’s chair as if he intended to embrace her. He leaned too close, his smile too smug, as if he was assured she would be swayed by anything he requested. He obviously didn’t know the lady well.

“Mrs. Archer?” Linus asked, keeping an eye on the fellow. “Who is that?”

She must have glanced up the table too, for she answered readily enough. “Captain St. Claire. Abigail finds him rather dashing, but I have other hopes for her.”

So did Linus.

Immediately he schooled his face and his thoughts. He had no claim on Abigail. She had every right to speak to whomever she chose. But he couldn’t help a smile as she sent the fellow packing, his face hinting of disappointment.

“Surely that’s a naval uniform,” Doctor Owens said, spooning up his soup. “If there is a marine unit nearby, I’m surprised they aren’t training the militia.”

“He is here alone, on half-pay, I believe,” Mrs. Archer supplied. “He was injured at the Battle of the Nile and has been recuperating at Dove Cottage ever since. It’s at the top of the hill beyond the assembly rooms. Everyone accords him a fine gentleman.”

“If he is injured, perhaps we should call on him,” Doctor Owens mused. “Or has he other medical care?”

“Doctor Chance, our previous physician, attended him,” Mrs. Archer said. “Here, now, Ethan, let me help you with that roll. They can be tricky things to butter.”

“I would feel remiss if I did not attempt to make his acquaintance,” Doctor Owens told Linus. “I introduced myself to Mr. Denby earlier this week, offering my congratulations. I would have spoken to your magistrate as well, but he appears to be out of town.”

“In London,” Linus clarified. “I expect him back shortly.”

Owens tsked. “Both your magistrate and your Riding Surveyor away at the same time. I certainly hope your militia is up to the task of protecting the area should the French strike. That drill last week did not reassure me of their ability to handle weapons.”

The way Abigail had been wounded came too easily to mind. He glanced up the table again.

She was watching them. Meeting his gaze, she smiled, and his heart rate accelerated. Ridiculous organ. He gave her a nod before turning purposefully toward Owens again.

But he could not seem