Graham wasn’t certain how he accomplished it, but he finally got the widow to agree to a walk to the garden. She walked the length of the corridor with some improvement over their walk the other day, and then he carried her down the stairs to the main floor. Servants stared in shock before offering smiles and curtsies for the baroness, and the attention seemed to be quite encouraging to her. Even when no one was watching, she was still smiling. It made Graham quite happy to see.

When they reached the doors to the outside, she paused, preventing him from moving forward. “What is it?” he asked.

Her eyes were fixed on the gardens. “I haven’t been outside for so long—I just want to savor the moment.”

Graham couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that. “I can’t blame you. I think I would quite go out of my mind were I to be forced inside for more than a few days, let alone nearly two months.”

There was silence as she stared a moment longer, and then, “I’m ready.”

They hobbled through the door and out onto the veranda. It was warm, but there was a gentle breeze that brought the smell of lilacs with it. Graham could feel Lady Beeston’s slight body heaving deep breaths, taking in the sights and the smells all at once.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like I’m being reborn,” she replied. “Like I’m learning to breathe for the first time.”

“You’re glad you came, then?”

Finally, she turned her chocolate brown eyes up to look at him. She was so beautiful with her hair tumbling over her shoulders, a few errant strands tossing about in the breeze. He ought not to think of her this way, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I think you might never get me back inside,” she laughed.

“Come,” he said, guiding her toward the divan near the end of the verandah. “You can sit here and enjoy the breeze.”

“You won’t stay?” she asked, blinking at him with hopefulness in her eyes.

I would never leave if I didn’t have to. “I need to instruct Cook to prepare your poultice. Would you like me to order a repast while I’m at it?”

“Something sweet,” she said with a smile. “And some tea, perhaps?”

“I won’t be long.”

Graham reluctantly left her resting alone on the divan and hurried inside to find Cook. Unfortunately, he found someone else first.

“Dr. Alcott,” the duke said, as Graham passed the open door of the man’s study.

There was nothing for it. “Afternoon, Your Grace,” he replied with a bow.

“How is my sister?” he asked, without preamble.

“Progressing,” Graham replied.

“Already? And even after her setback in the bath?”

“Sometimes a setback can catapult us to the next milestone. You may see her yourself, if you like. She is on the verandah, waiting for me to call for tea.”

The duke stared at him, his eyebrows raised, his head cocked in such a manner that indicated he wasn’t pleased at this news. “I’m confused,” he said, his tone more than just a little biting. “Are you here as a doctor or as a suitor?”

The question caused heat to rush to Graham’s face. The thought of being more than just her doctor had crossed his mind more times than it ought to have. “Getting her fresh air and a bit of exercise for the leg is part of the treatment,” he said, his voice steadier than he’d expected it to be. “The tea is for her, not for me.”

“Hm.” The duke nodded and drummed his fingers on his desk. “Carry on, then. I do think I shall go have a visit with my sister.”

“I’m certain she will enjoy that, Your Grace.”

Graham gratefully bowed out of the room, desperate to have a moment alone to calm his breath and his racing heart. He took his time on his way to the kitchen, knowing the duke was going to see his sister, and then he meandered his way back to the verandah once he’d delivered his instructions.

Somerset sat on a chair beside the divan—the chair Graham had planned to sit in himself. But it wasn’t as if he could order the duke to find another seat. That would surely raise suspicions, in addition to being completely out of line.

They spoke in hushed tones, so Graham had no idea what they were talking about, but as soon as Lady Beeston spotted him, she smiled broadly, and said, “Dr. Alcott! Did Cook have something sweet for me?”

“Indeed, she did,” he said. “It will be here soon, she promises.”

“Hannah was just telling me about your sister, the viscountess,” the duke said. “I didn’t realize you had such relations.”

“I don’t usually go about announcing it.” Graham took a seat on the other side of the small table from Somerset. “But yes, Lady Wolverly is indeed my sister.”

The duke glanced at his sister. “You know Grace is going to want to have them for dinner.”

Lady Beeston looked to Graham. “Perhaps when my doctor says I am able enough to attend a meal at the table?”

“It shouldn’t be long,” he replied. “Why, you look quite well today, even.”

“I still think you should take things slowly.” The duke furrowed his brow. “Another fall could set her back quite a ways.”

“Oh, Evan, please,” Lady Beeston said with a roll of her eyes. “That wasn’t Dr. Alcott’s fault.”

The duke opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off when his wife burst onto the verandah.

“There you are!” The duchess moved toward them, clad in a fetching day dress with an equally fetching bonnet upon her head, the ribbons of which she was attempting to tie with her gloved fingers. “We’re going to be late.”

The duke groaned, like a child might bemoan taking a bath.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Evan, it’s a garden party, not a tooth extraction.”

“It might as well be,” the duke groused.

Lady Beeston laughed, and it was quite infectious. All were giggling as Her Grace led her husband toward the door. All except the duke, of course.

“I guess he’s not much for garden parties,” Graham said as he moved around to the chair the duke had just vacated.

“What on earth would make you think that?” Lady Beeston teased back. “Poor man. He spent so many years hiding out in France, keeping his own council and without any obligation to anyone, I think it’s rather overwhelming for him to be dragged about Town for balls and soirees and, of course, garden parties.”

“And what of the duchess? She enjoys these things?

Lady Beeston burst into laughter. “Oh, my sister-in-law was quite born for these things, though she wasn’t born to them.”

“No?”

“Oh, no.” The baroness shook her head. “Born into a farming family, believe it or not, but she had relations in the ton, a cousin at first, but then her sister married a Wetherby—you know the Wetherby family, of course?”

Everyone knew the Wetherby family. “Of course,” he confirmed.

“And then her sister sponsored her in a season, and Grace, well…as you can imagine, she drew quite a bit of attention.”

She was lovely—that was undeniable, and not at all objective. She had flaxen hair and wide eyes the color of emeralds, situated in a heart-shaped face. But Graham was much more drawn to the darker beauty that sat beside him.

Just now, little dots of the sunlight that streamed through the trees danced across her face so that she nearly sparkled, like some sort of fairy. She was utterly enchanting. Which was why Graham needed to be careful. Why he kept reminding himself that she was a patient, not a paramour.

Damn. He wouldn’t know how to handle a paramour even if that were the case. He hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time—his bachelor life had been too comfortable to compromise for a woman. But now, for the first time in his life, he thought he might not mind compromising his comfort.

“Then how did your brother come to meet her, if he wasn’t one for soirees?” Graham wondered.

“Why, right over that garden wall.” Lady Beeston cast her gaze to the right, to the wall that separated their property from that of the neighbors. “Her sister, Lady Chloe, lives there.”

“Well, that is a lovely happenstance, isn’t it?”

“Quite romantic, really.” The baroness turned wistful as she looked out over the gardens. “I’m truly very happy for them, even if it is difficult to accept my own fate.”

“You’re only thirty, are you not?”

“I am,” she said. “And widowed, quite scandalously, I might add. And crippled. I am quite damaged, Dr. Alcott.”

Damaged or not, he was drawn to her in ways he couldn’t describe. “You do yourself a disservice by thinking such things of yourself.”

“I speak the truth.”

“And yet, there are other perspectives to consider.”

“Oh, really?” She turned her dark eyes on him. “Perhaps you can share them with me, for there is only one perspective from where I sit.”

Graham swallowed and then cleared his throat. How much could he say without crossing that fine line between doctor and…something more?