The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,56

pay to go toward leasing a larger house for the purpose of treating anyone in the area,” Mrs. Kirby rattled off as if she feared interruption. “And that the Spa Corporation pay the lease on said house and lease the cottage he’s been using.”

“I second,” Mr. Ellison barked.

Greer sighed. “All in favor?”

“Aye,” they chorused. Greer didn’t ask whether any were opposed.

“Thank you,” Linus told Abigail when the meeting ended a short while later, after the members had settled some other fees and assessments.

She inclined her head as she rose from the table. “It was a worthwhile proposal. I’m glad the others agreed.”

“Because of your championship,” Linus assured her. “I want you to know I value that about you, Abigail.”

She eyed him as the others filed out. “Be careful, Doctor Bennett. I might think you were encouraging me to take risks.”

“Appropriate risks,” he hedged. “Risks that don’t put you in danger.”

“I am afraid we disagree on that,” she said as they turned for the door. “There is always a degree of danger when you put the needs of others before your own. It may not be a risk to your life, but to opportunities, your peace of mind. Yet I would live no other way.”

And how could he ask her to live any other way? He too believed in putting others first.

“There is also a risk to those we love,” he tried. “We may take a chance, but our failing may mean sacrifice for them.”

She paused in the doorway, face troubled. “What sacrifice do you see in attempting to learn the identity of our French spies? Surely there are only benefits to the entire village.”

“If you were successful in keeping out of their reach. If you were not successful, you could have been killed, Abigail. Think how that would affect the families who rely on your shop. Think how it would affect those who love you.”

He dared not say more on the matter. Already she was staring at him as if in wonder.

“I can only admire your determination,” he said. “I also admire your artistic eye. Perhaps you’d be willing to advise me on how to furnish this larger house.”

It was a peace offering. He had no idea if she would accept it. But oh, how he wanted her to accept it.

She cocked her head as if giving the matter due consideration, and he held his breath.

“Very well,” she said. “I would be glad to help. For the good of the village, of course.”

Linus bowed. “Of course.”

And he left the room feeling lighter than he had in days.

Chapter Seventeen

He escorted her home, as if they were courting. His bodyguard for the day, Mr. Truant of the Swan, trailed respectfully behind. True, he had to fetch Ethan anyway, but when his fingers brushed hers, she allowed her hand to slip into his. For a moment, that was all she needed.

Their conversation after the meeting could not help but give her pause. She hadn’t thought how her actions might frighten him, particularly after his experiences with his late wife. Perhaps he didn’t fault her for her independence after all. Surely if he found her unsuitable, he would never had asked her help in setting up his new house. Indeed, some might consider such a request as a prelude to a proposal. Best not to mention the matter to her mother or Jess.

They found out anyway.

“Perhaps one of Mrs. Catchpole’s pretty pots for his dressing table,” her mother suggested when she came through the shop the next day. “He could store cravat pins in it.”

“Who, Mother?” Abigail asked, moving toward the display of painted clay pots the employment agency owner crafted in the evenings.

“Why, Doctor Bennett, dear. Ethan says you’ll be helping decorate their new house.”

Abigail jerked to a stop. “I didn’t agree to help with the idea of selling him things from the shop. And I have never seen him use a cravat pin.”

Her mother looked thoughtful. “Then perhaps we should furnish him with some of those too. I’ll ask Mr. Lawrence what he thinks.” She trotted out before Abigail could respond.

Jesslyn was more pointed. “I understand you’ll be helping Doctor Bennett set up his house in the village,” she said when Abigail ventured up to the spa to assist her with Regatta planning late in the day. “I can tell you what Father preferred.”

Abigail shook her head. “Who told you?”

She nodded across the Grand Pump Room, which was as crowded as ever today. “Doctor Bennett, of course. He seems inordinately pleased by