The Doctor and the Libertine - Callie Hutton Page 0,37

the laugh that escaped at Lottie’s question since she couldn’t imagine anyone having a ‘fancy’ for Mr. Faulkner-Jones.

“No.” She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, Father didn’t tell me about it until the day I left for my medical training. Although it was quite a surprise, with the excitement of beginning my studies, I relegated it to the back of my mind.”

Rayne pushed her empty plate away from her. “I met Mr. Faulkner-Jones probably three times, the most recent time a few days ago.”

Lottie leaned on her elbow, her countenance all excitement. “And?”

Rayne remembered the stiff, cold man who annoyed her, antagonized Edwin, and was now pushing for a fast wedding so he could return to his work somewhere far away from England.

Most likely he was planning a wed her, bed her, then leave her to her work sort of marriage. At one time when she never thought much about marriage, she might have accepted that. Providing she had her work she would be happy.

But then things changed. Edwin entered her life and for the first time ever, she enjoyed the company of a man. Not the derision and condescending attitude she’d received from her male counterparts at school, or the professors who were even worse. Rayne enjoyed verbal sparring with Edwin, and most of all she enjoyed his arms wrapped around her as they kissed.

“I don’t think we will suit, actually.” She surprised herself by that statement. The thought had apparently been there, but now that she’d given herself time to really contemplate it, she did not want that sort of marriage.

She looked around the table at her friends. They were all happily married. Ecstatic, truth be known. They had husbands who adored them, and now they were starting their families. A loving husband, a warm secure home, and children to raise.

Did she not deserve the same?

Edwin paced—as best he could with a broken leg—in Rayne’s office, awaiting her return. She’d sent word earlier that Mrs. Mallory had safely delivered twin girls and once she and the other ladies who had attended the birth finished breakfast she would be back at the infirmary.

It was time.

He could not allow her to marry that stiff-necked fiancé. Perhaps he was speaking too soon, but he felt as though the timing had been taken away from him once Faulkner-Jones had showed up, staring down his pointed nose at everyone. He knew in his bruised heart that given enough time he would have been on his knees begging for Rayne’s hand.

She was everything a man could want. This man, at least. At first her staunch moral code had annoyed, and then amused him. After his brandy-fogged brain cleared, however, he’d begun to see the woman beneath the doctor.

Rayne was warm, intelligent, witty, compassionate, and innocent in a way one did not expect a woman who had been educated in the medical field to be. The fact that she was beautiful and possessed a form that made his hands itch to run over her curves was a bonus.

However, he could not honestly ask her to marry him without telling her first about what had happened to Lydia. His part in the disaster. She deserved to know what a cad he’d been before he became the cad she knew. He honestly did not believe he was good enough for her, but if she were able to listen to his story and he did not see the condemnation in her eyes, there might be a chance.

The sound of the front door opening and her cheerful greeting to Walter, despite how very tired she must be, only raised his respect for her. He could tell by her walk down the corridor that she was struggling to make it as far as her bed. Perhaps he should wait until another time.

No. If he did, it would not be in consideration of her fatigue, but a way to get out of what he wanted—yea, needed—to tell her. “Good morning, Rayne.” He offered her a bright smile and was granted one in return.

“The babies are beautiful.” She laid her medical bag on the counter and rubbed her eyes. “And the mother and father are doing just fine.” Her eyes filled with tears. She covered her eyes with her hand, and he reached out to pull her against his chest.

These were tears of exhaustion. No sobbing, no wailing, just tears slowly trickling down her soft cheeks and landing on his chest, the wet spot on his shirt growing. “I am