The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,54

seemed some part of her very much wanted him to propose.

Yet, what would she say to him that hadn’t already been said? He could not value her independence. She could not appreciate his command.

She made sure to be in the shop when he came with Ethan in the morning. But she sent word to Eva via one of Mr. Lawrence’s sons to request a moment of the magistrate’s time.

James Howland, Eva’s husband, arrived in the shop by ten. A tall man, with a head of golden blond hair and a stern face, he listened as Abigail quickly told him about what had been happening in his absence.

“Eva explained that the militia is protecting our physician by night,” he said when she finished. “From what you observed, it appears we may have to protect him by day as well.”

“That’s what I fear,” Abigail told him. “We seem to have a general direction of our adversaries—somewhere between here and Upper Grace. Mr. Greer told the detachment at West Creech about the matter, but I never heard the result.”

“A report was waiting for me,” he told her. “They located several houses that appeared to have been broken into, but of Doctor Bennett’s abductors, there was no sign.”

“Then we must look harder,” Abigail insisted.

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “But there is word of a press gang in the area. Men alone or even in small groups are likely to find themselves heading for a stint in the Royal Navy. I can’t send anyone who doesn’t own a red coat to mark his office.”

Even more than a month after the formation of the Grace-by-the-Sea militia, red coats were few and far between. Mr. Treacle, the tailor, had enlisted the aid of the Misses Pierce at the linens and trimmings shop as well as several talented local seamstresses to help him fill the orders.

“What then?” Abigail demanded. “Are we to sit and wait for the next attempt on his person?”

“For now, that may be our best approach.”

Why did no one else see the need to act? It had been the same way when her father had been alive. No one had listened to a frightened little girl then. Well, she was no longer that frightened little girl. She was capable.

Linus was going to receive her help, whether he wanted it or not.

~~~

“Are you angry with Miss Archer?” Ethan asked the next morning as he and Linus started toward High Street from the cottage.

Linus kept his gaze out over the blue-grey waters of the cove. “No. I said some things I regret, and I hurt her.”

A small hand slipped into his. Linus gripped it, thankful for the touch, the trust it implied.

“You can always say you’re sorry,” Ethan told him. “That’s what Charlie says when Mr. Wingate corrects him.”

He looked down at his son and smiled. “You and Charlie are getting along well, it seems.”

“He’s too bossy,” Ethan said with a prim set to his mouth. “But he’s very clever too.” He cast Linus a look out of the corner of his eyes. “He thinks we should learn to sail.”

Fear poked him in the ribs. Linus ignored it. “That might be a good idea living where we do. You should learn to swim too. Perhaps Charlie might suggest a teacher.”

“I’ll ask him,” Ethan said. “I hope Miss Archer forgives you. Mrs. Archer says she knows how to sail. Maybe she could teach us.”

Somehow, it didn’t surprise him to hear his son confirm that Abigail sailed. There seemed nothing she could not do. Except, maybe, tolerate his foibles.

He could not blame her if she didn’t want to talk to him. He’d made a mull of things. When she’d run toward danger, every part of him had frozen. Images of gunshot wounds, bayonet slashes, had filled his mind. Then he’d rushed after her, determined to protect her or die trying.

The depths of his feelings had shocked him, and he’d pushed her away. The whole situation was too much like life with Catriona.

He could not deny the lift of his spirits when she was waiting just inside the door of the flat when he brought Ethan that morning. Gowned in a shade of green that matched her eyes, she stood stiffly as her mother greeted them and took Ethan over to the sofa.

“I alerted the magistrate to what happened at the castle,” she said, chin up. “And Charlie Lawrence stopped by a bit ago to let me know Mr. Greer has called the monthly board meeting for tomorrow night. It will be