First Comes Scandal

Very well, hundreds of girls had made it through presentation at court without committing accidental arson, but Georgie was sure that not a one of them had been the least bit comfortable in her gown.

At any rate, no one ever talked about men fainting, so Georgie was not-so-secretly delighted to hear that more than one of them hit the floor the first time they saw a body cut open.

It seemed wrong to her that women could not be doctors. Surely a woman doctor could do a better job treating female patients. She had to have a better familiarity with the female anatomy than a man did. It was simple common sense.

She’d said as much to Nicholas. He’d looked over at her with a considering sort of expression, then said, “You’re probably right.”

Georgie was already leaning forward, girding herself for an argument. When none came, she sat back, momentarily speechless.

“What is it?” Nicholas asked.

“It has just occurred to me that most of the time, adages become adages because they are true.”

This made him grin, and he turned more directly to face her. “What do you mean?”

“You took the wind right out of my sails.”

His smile grew. “Is that a good thing?”

“It is for you.” She, on the other hand, didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

He laughed. “Did you expect me to argue that women should not be allowed to become doctors?”

“I didn’t expect such a wholesale capitulation.”

“It isn’t capitulation if I was never on the other side of the issue,” he pointed out.

“No, I suppose not.” She thought about that for a moment. “I’ve never heard you express an opinion on the subject, though.”

“It’s not something to which I’ve given much thought,” he admitted with a shrug. “It doesn’t affect me directly.”

“Doesn’t it?” She frowned. His statement bothered her, although she could not precisely put her finger on the reason why. “If you worked alongside women,” she said, thinking aloud, “you might view your patients differently. You might see the entire world differently.”

He regarded her for a long moment, then said, “This conversation seems to have taken a very serious turn.”

She nodded slowly, looking down at their hands when his fingers found hers. He gave a little tug, and she let herself be pulled into his embrace.

“I don’t want to be serious right now,” he murmured.

Nor did she, not when he was whispering naughty words against her neck.

And that was how the morning went. Kissing and conversation, conversation and kissing. It was enough to make a woman think that a two-week journey by carriage might actually be something to look forward to.

But all too soon it was midday, and the traveling party came to a stop. And so did everything wonderful—including Cat-Head’s success in the hammock.

Georgie had to take him out. It would be unconscionable to leave any living creature like that for more than a few hours at a time, no matter how comfortable he seemed to be.

All three cats had a little break, as did most human members of the traveling party, and then they all piled back in to their respective carriages. Judyth and Blanche curled up in their baskets (Blanche only after being bribed with an extra piece of cheese), but Cat-Head was having none of it. The sound he made when Georgie attempted to put him back in his hammock …

“Good night,” Nicholas exclaimed. “Are you gutting him?”

Georgie turned and glared, even as Cat-Head pushed against her forehead with his right front paw. “Do you want to try?”

“God no.”

Georgie moved the paw from her forehead and slid it through the appropriate hole in the hammock webbing, only to be rewarded with a yowl and another paw, this one under her chin. “I don’t know why he’s making such a fuss,” she grunted, dislodging the second paw from her person. “He was perfectly fine this morning.”

Nicholas rubbed his chin. “Do you think he can remember that far back?”

The look Georgie gave him was not particularly warm.

“You yourself said he’s not very bright.”

“He’s bright enough to remember this morning,” she retorted.

Nicholas did not look swayed.

And thus began the second half of the day’s travel.

After suffering through nearly an hour of ungodly howling, Georgie finally found a position that Cat-Head seemed to sanction, and she spent the next three hours rocking him like a baby. At one point Nicholas offered to take over for her, but Cat-Head had clearly decided it was Georgie or no one, and after five minutes, it was agreed that it was best for everyone’s sanity if Georgie took him back.

By the time they reached their designated stopping point in Alconbury, Georgie’s arms were so tired her muscles were shaking. And if the physical discomfort wasn’t enough, she was full of inner turmoil. Every time she looked at Nicholas she remembered how they had spent the morning. She shouldn’t have felt shy, but she did, and—

No. She didn’t feel shy. That’s not what this was.

She waited for another burst of clarity, another eureka moment that might define this strange, conflicted feeling in her chest, but none was forthcoming.

All she knew was that she had feelings.

About Nicholas.

For Nicholas?

No. That was impossible. She’d known him her whole life. It was illogical to think that everything between them would change just because they’d placed rings on their fingers. It had only been a day, for heaven’s sake.

“Georgie?” the man in question murmured.

She looked down. He’d already exited the carriage and was holding out his hand to help her disembark. He looked tired, although not nearly as tired as she felt.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he said as she put her hand in his.

She nodded, letting him help her down. Her feelings—whatever they were—were going to have to wait. Firstly, because she could not be certain of the nature of his feelings, and she was not prepared to ponder the possibility of one-sidedness, and secondly—and more urgently—she was so hungry she would have happily eaten an entire cow.

Cooked, of course. She wasn’t a complete savage.

It was late enough when they arrived that everyone decided to eat right away, and she and Nicholas were led to what was clearly the second nicest spot in the dining room, at the end of a long table, scarred by use, but thankfully clean. A sour-faced couple and their sour-faced son sat at the other end of the table, which was closer to the fire. They looked to be almost done with their meal, but Georgie was too tired and hungry to wait for them to vacate their seats. She’d be warm enough at the far end of the table.

“Are you hungry?” Nicholas asked as he held out her chair.

“Famished. And you?”

“The same.” He took his seat across from her and set his hat on the table beside him. His hair was askew, with bits and pieces sticking out in unexpected directions. It would never do in a formal drawing room, but here on the road she found it charming.

“I’m half ready to eat the meat off their plates,” he said with a tip of his head toward the family at the far end of the table.

But when a youth came by with cheese and a basket of bread, Georgie watched Nicholas stop following the food with his eyes as soon as he got a glimpse of the boy’s forearm.