Chapter 4
“Miss Easton has suffered a shock, indeed, with that bump to her head and bruises, but nothing that will not physically heal within a week or so.”
Linette felt overwhelming relief at Dr. Adam Whitaker’s pronouncement, while Corie flung her arms around Donovan’s neck to hug him tightly. Linette had guessed his diagnosis was a favorable one when he’d turned away from the bedside and given her a reassuring smile, which had warmed her as much as when he’d soothed her grieving younger sister with his kind words about Luther.
“The loss of her dog is another matter,” Dr. Whitaker continued somberly, “but I believe in time, she’ll find comfort that she did everything she could to save him. She was courageous to swim out after him, which shows her strength of spirit. I believe that will help her as she heals.”
If Donovan had appeared more than reluctant about Dr. Whitaker treating Estelle as their physician, now he looked only grateful, and came forward to firmly shake the young doctor’s hand.
“You’ve restored our happy Christmas,” Donovan said with a glance at Corie, who came to his side to entwine her arm with his. “Stay with us for dinner, Whitaker—”
“Yes, join us,” Corie interjected, while Linette looked down at the carpeted floor of the library, momentarily nonplussed. “If you’d not had such good news for us, we wouldn’t have celebrated at all, but the children have no idea what’s happened, well, other than Paloma. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go fetch her. It’s been a shock for all of us, but especially her. She loves her aunts so.”
Corie turned to kiss Donovan on the cheek, and next gave Linette a quick hug, and then hastened from the room. Immediately she could be heard calling for the servants to light the candles in the dining room and to tell Cook in the kitchen that their Christmas dinner would be held after all. Corie’s voice sounded so lighthearted after the somber turn to their day that Linette couldn’t help but smile.
“A brandy, Dr. Whitaker?” Donovan asked, his tone lighter, too, as he moved to the table where a full decanter sat surrounded by crystal glasses.
“Thank you, sir, I will,” he answered, though Linette realized the doctor wasn’t watching Donovan pour him a glass. Instead, he stood as if transfixed, staring at her and the smile upon her face.
Her breath caught, and she sobered at once, noticing for the first time that his eyes were a hazel more green than brown and filled with a warm admiration that made her cheeks flush with heat. Thankfully, Donovan interrupted the unsettling moment when he handed Dr. Whitaker a filled glass, the two men partaking in a draft of brandy while Linette began to move somewhat self-consciously toward the door.
Yet her curiosity got the better of her when Donovan began to engage him in conversation about his impressions thus far of Cornwall, which made her stop where she stood.
Curiosity not so much about what Dr. Adam Whitaker might have to say, but that their exchange gave her a chance to study him in a manner much like he’d done to her only moments before.
She had already deemed him handsome, but he stood so confidently in Donovan’s presence as if he often conversed with the nobility…although his conservative and somewhat worn attire bespoke a man who had perhaps risen from poor circumstances to his higher calling. A brown overcoat over a lighter brown waistcoat, tan trousers, and deep brown Hessian boots that she saw now were flecked with mud, yet everything seemed to fit his tall, lean form as if tailored for him.
Now that she stood so close to him, although he’d scarcely glanced in her direction since Donovan had engaged him, she saw his wavy brown hair had auburn highlights much like her own from the afternoon sunlight spilling through the tall windows. His face was clean shaven with closely cropped sideburns, his jawline strong and angular and his profile so very arresting—
“Linette, did you hear me?”
She gaped at Donovan, startled and deeply embarrassed not to have realized that he’d spoken to her while she was but staring so openly at Dr. Whitaker…oh, Lord.
“I-I’m sorry, Donovan,” she began, but if he’d noticed her discomfort he gave no sign of it as he strode past her to the doorway.
“The carriage I sent for your father has arrived,” he said over his shoulder. “He knows only that Estelle was hurt, and nothing of our recent good report. I want to allay his fears at once. Attend to our guest for a few moments, will you?”
Donovan was gone from the room before Linette could answer, although a footman appeared right outside the door as if Donovan had indicated for him to stand there. So Linette wasn’t truly alone. She glanced from the doorway to Dr. Whitaker as he set his half-empty glass upon the table and gave her a gallant bow.
“We haven’t really been introduced,” he began, coming closer although Linette found herself rooted to the floor. “You and I, anyway. I mean, we were upstairs together in your sister’s room for a time and you led me down here to the library, though with hardly a word—”
“I understand what you mean, sir,” she murmured, flushing and yet doing her best to maintain her composure as he drew closer still. “Miss Linette Easton.”
“French names, then, all of you? Your sisters, I mean.”
“Yes, our mother was French…Adele. My eldest sister, Corisande, and then there’s Marguerite, a duchess as well…and Estelle of course, the youngest…and me.”
“And you,” he said after her, his voice holding a huskiness now that Linette found incredibly disconcerting. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Easton. Dr. Adam Whitaker—”
“Yes, of London, I believe you said,” Linette interrupted him as she glanced toward the door, wondering if she, too, should go to meet her father. Yet Donovan had said for her to attend to their guest… “Is that your home, Dr. Whitaker?”
“During my formal medical training, it was, but now my home is here.”
He stared at her again, not in any way that she would find inappropriate, but almost as if he studied the lines of her face as a sculptor might his model…with evident appreciation.
“Y-yes, of course, but I meant where you’re from, your parents—”
“No parents. I’m an orphan.”
“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry,” she began, noting his expression had hardened as if she’d touched upon a subject he didn’t wish to discuss.
“No need to be sorry, Miss Easton. It’s life, is all. Harsh for some and kinder to others.”
For a moment she didn’t know what to say, until at last she blurted, “You’ll find the people friendly here, Dr. Whitaker, although it may take them a while to grow accustomed to you. We’ve known only Dr. Philcup for years. Yet they’ll come around, I’m sure. You’re our physician now, after all.”
“So I am, and gratefully so, especially now,” he said simply, staring at her again as she found herself doing the same to him.
For a moment a great stillness enveloped them as if the rest of the world had inexplicably fallen away. Then in the next instant, she blinked, and he cleared his throat, which left her wondering what she might ask of him next. She didn’t wish to touch upon another unpleasant topic for him—
“Luther, old boy, come here!”
Linette gasped at the sudden commotion beyond the library in the foyer. Luther? Had she heard Donovan correctly?
Her heart lodged in her throat, she ran out of the room, very much aware that Dr. Whitaker followed not too far behind her. Nothing would have prepared her for the sight of Luther—very much alive!—wriggling and barking in Donovan’s arms. Her father, Corie, Paloma, and Miss Biddle encircled the lively scene while stunned servants appeared as if from every corner of the house. Even Cook, the older woman nearly as wide as she was short, hurried from the kitchen wiping flour from her hands onto her apron.
Everyone was talking at once, asking questions, staring in wide-eyed amazement, until at last Joseph Easton raised his hand to speak.
“The strangest thing occurred, really. Almost to the house, a young man rode up alongside the carriage and signaled for us to stop. I’ve never seen him before, but he had Luther wrapped snugly in his cloak! Said he found him on the beach and wanted to return him to his young mistress. He handed Luther to me through the window and then he was gone, galloping away.”
“He spoke English?” Donovan asked, grown suddenly serious as he handed Luther to Paloma, who laughed with delight as Luther licked her face.
“Why, yes he did, quite perfectly, my son.”
“English or French, what does it matter, husband?” Corie asked him, coming close to hug his arm. “Whoever he might be, we’ve our dear Estelle with us, safe and sound thanks to him, and now Luther, too! Truly, it’s a happy Christmas!”
Linette saw that her sister’s teasing words seemed to ease Donovan, who glanced behind him at Adam standing further back from the family gathered there.
“What say you, Whitaker? Should we let Estelle know straightaway that her beloved mutt is safely returned? I know you’ve prescribed rest and quiet for her.”
“I have, Your Grace, but such news will greatly encourage her recovery—”
“Luther!”
All eyes turned to the top of the staircase where Estelle stood in her nightgown, and none too steadily, either, as she burst into tears at the sight of her little dog. With a yip, Luther jumped out of Paloma’s arms and ran barking up the stairs, Corie hastening after him, followed by Donovan.
They reached Estelle only an instant after she’d sunk to her knees to gather her dog to her breast, laughing, crying, while Luther squirmed and whimpered and licked her wet face.
Linette’s eyes were clouded with grateful tears, too, as Donovan lifted Estelle into his arms and carried both her and Luther back to her room, Corie leading the way.
Linette wanted to run upstairs to join them, but she knew Estelle had experienced enough excitement without having the rest of the family adding to the commotion. Instead, she stood in the foyer with her father and Paloma while the servants, Cook, and Miss Biddle went back to their preparations for Christmas dinner.
“Oh, Grandpapa, it’s so wonderful!” enthused Paloma as Linette gestured for Dr. Whitaker to come forward so she might introduce him to her father.
“Papa, may I present our new doctor, Mr. Whitaker.”
“Ah, yes, we met after the service today,” Joseph Easton said warmly with a slight bow of his head.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Easton, and under happier circumstances than when I first arrived here, I’m very pleased to say.”
“Yes, happier indeed, though not so for one of my parishioners, Mrs. Polkinghorne. She’s an excellent seamstress in the village and made our Corie’s wedding dress to Donovan six years past. I received a message from her husband asking for prayer right before I left to come here. She’s taken ill, you see.”
“Ill? Then I must go to her at once.”
“Yes, some bad fish pie, I believe. A dear woman, but a frightful gossip, God bless her. If you’re able to help her, I’m sure her recommendation would fly like the wind about the parish. A very good thing for a new doctor, yes?”
Dr. Whitaker nodded, while Linette felt a sting of disappointment as he went to gather his black bag and top hat from a footman.
Of course he couldn’t stay, she knew that, and why it seemed to matter to her so much that he wouldn’t be dining with them was a strange revelation to her. She scarcely knew the man!
“Miss Easton, if you’ll give my regrets to the Duke and Duchess,” he murmured, his gaze lingering upon her after saying his goodbyes to her father and Paloma. “Please tell them I’ll return every afternoon to visit your sister until I’m assured she has made a complete and full recovery.”
“Yes, of course.” To Linette, his expression had grown serious as if his thoughts were already upon his soon-to-be patient, Mrs. Polkinghorne, and he didn’t appear to want to delay any longer. She scarcely spoke the words, “Merry Christmas,” and he turned to leave them, when suddenly, to Linette’s surprise, Paloma ran after him and jerked the end of his coat.
“You haven’t kissed her, Dr. Whitaker!”
“Paloma!” Stunned, Linette felt as if her cheeks had burst into flame as her niece pointed to the ball of mistletoe, festively ornamented with red ribbons, hanging from the chandelier right above her head. She glanced at her father, who shook his head, chuckling, while Dr. Whitaker slowly walked back toward them.
Her heart slamming in her breast, she could not believe what was transpiring as he stopped right in front of her, standing so close that the buttons on his coat grazed her bodice. Oh, Lord, oh, Lord! So close that she couldn’t help noting that he smelled like the out-of-doors with a faint hint of orange and sandalwood, the masculine scent undeniably appealing. He stared at her for the longest moment—or was it only an instant, how could she say?—and then lifted her chin and brushed his lips ever so lightly against hers.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Easton.”
Her eyes fluttered open to find him looking down at her with a curious half smile, and she realized in utter mortification that she had just sighed against his mouth. Sighed!
“Another kiss!” Clapping her hands, Paloma danced around them with delight. “Oh, Aunt Linette, another kiss!”
“That’s enough kisses, child,” Joseph Easton gently broke in. “Let’s go see if Cook has something for us to nibble.” With an indulgent smile, he steered Paloma toward the back of the house in the direction of the kitchen, nodding his goodbye.
As if that was his cue, Dr. Whitaker stepped abruptly away from Linette. Without a word he bowed his head to her and then turned and left her standing in the foyer, the clatter of carriage wheels a minute later carrying him away.
Still, Linette didn’t budge an inch, her trembling fingers to her lips, her heart still hammering harder than she ever remembered.
Her shock still overwhelming that their unexpected kiss had happened at all.
Only when the young footman by the front door coughed with some embarrassment did she start in surprise, and spin on her heel to flee toward the kitchen after her father and Paloma.