The Doctor and the Libertine - Callie Hutton Page 0,21

thankfully taking the attention away from his faux pas, “I will pay your maids for cleaning.”

“No. You will not.” Mrs. Smith crossed her arms over her chest and glared, which was quite funny because she was far too beautiful to scowl.

“Ladies, and my lord, dinner is ready.” Lady Berkshire’s cook entered the room, her cheerful face bringing a conclusion to the discourse.

“Wonderful. I am quite hungry,” Mrs. Westbrooke said.

“Thank you very much, ladies, however, I will be on my way.” The last thing Edwin wanted to do was sit down to dinner with these women who despised him. It would be awkward for him and them.

“Are you certain, my lord?” Rayne asked. The fact that she didn’t try to change his mind was both a relief and wounding. But it was for the best.

“Yes. Thank you again.” He looked around the room. “Does anyone know where my cane got off to?”

They all looked round and then Rayne found it laying on the floor next to the last patient he’d wrapped bandages on. “Here you are, my lord.”

“Thank you.” He took it from her hand and bowed. “Good evening, ladies.” He only took two steps when Rayne joined him. “I will walk you out.”

Once they were beyond the hearing of the women in the infirmary, she said, “I can’t thank you enough for helping and sending for my friends. That was quite kind of you.”

Kind. Well, it had been a long time since anyone had called him kind.

“Thank you.” Dear God, was he actually blushing?

She tilted her head and studied him, frowning. “Why did you come? Had you heard about the accident?”

It would have been so easy to let her live under that falsehood, or the other one he’d conjured up about checking her books, but he didn’t want to lie to her.

“No.” He shrugged. “I missed you.”

Chapter 7

Rayne stood perfectly still like a marble statue, unable to even breath correctly. “You missed me?” She had no idea how to take that. Certainly, he didn’t mean it in a romantic way? In fact, he looked as surprised as she felt.

“Yes. I guess being here for so long and helping with your finances—by the way I apologize for blurting out that you can’t afford to pay Mrs. Westbrooke’s maids,” he ended lamely, apparently forgetting his original thought.

“I accept your apology, but I will pay Lottie’s maids.”

“You cannot. I will pay them.” Stubborn woman, she had no idea how close she was to poverty.

“You will not. I will pay them.” Her raised chin reminded him so much of when they’d first met.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “You cannot afford it, Dr. Stevens. You need someone to take your finances in hand. Not just fix your books to make sure everything due to you is recovered, but to actually look at your spending. As I’ve told you, you’ve been charged too much for your medical supplies. Please don’t take this wrong, but I think it may have something to do with the fact that you are a woman.”

She huffed. “And if that is so, I suppose you are the person to correct all that?” No one really had to tell her that her finances were a mess. The last time Walter visited the butcher he reminded him of the outstanding bill as he handed over his wrapped package of pork chops. Right now all the income she derived from her medical practice went to pay Walter, and buy supplies, medicines, and books to keep her up with any new developments in the medical field. Now Edwin believed she was being overcharged for those items.

“Yes, I am the person to do that,” he said, his voice rising. “Even though you think of me as a wastrel, I have an excellent head for numbers. You will be surprised to learn I took first honors in mathematics at Oxford.”

Yes, she was surprised to hear that, but then again, Sterling’s reputation at the gaming tables was extraordinary, which made sense if he was so very good with numbers. “Very well. I will allow you to resume handling my financial affairs on two conditions.”

“Ah, now come the demands,” he muttered.

She ticked off on her fingers. “First you must find a way to pay Mrs. Westbrooke’s maids, and second you must take a fee for yourself for doing it.”

“Blasted hell, woman, do you wish me to pay the men who sweep the street in front of your home, or the ones who light