The Infamous Duchess Page 8

  “Well what?” Henry asked, still hoping to extricate himself somehow from the mire of promises and duty his life had become.

  “What,” Lady Scranton asked with exacting words, “are you doing about your marriageable prospects?”

  “Ah.” She couldn’t have been any clearer. Henry thought of Viola and swiftly banished her from his mind. Because although he had every intention of pursuing her, he would not allow his family to know it. One hint of his intentions and there was no doubt in his mind he’d lose his chance—which was slim enough as it was. “I will set my mind to it once again when I’m fully recuperated.”

  “And when do you suppose that will be?” Armswell demanded to know.

  Henry gave him a cavalier shrug. “I honestly cannot say.” He needed time. Time to plot and plan and discover the best course of action where Viola was concerned. Courting her would be no simple matter since she never attended social events. He’d been fortunate to happen upon her today when she’d been out walking. “Recuperation takes as long as it takes. I shall inform you when I am ready to continue hunting for a bride.”

  “You needn’t make it sound so unpleasant, Henry,” Lady Scranton chided.

  He raised a challenging brow at her. “Your collective urgency with this matter is what makes it so. If it were up to me, I would take my time with finding the right woman. But ever since I told you of my plan to one day marry, you’ve been pushing me toward the altar with increased vigor.”

  “We only want what is best for you,” Lady Armswell said.

  “Which is for you to secure an heir before your next duel,” Scranton muttered with censorious force.

  Henry snatched up a tart and stood. He stared down at his family’s upturned faces. The continuation of their titles was his responsibility. He knew this, which was why he’d decided it was time for him to secure his progeny almost a year ago. He just hadn’t found the right woman until now.

  So far, everything had gone according to plan, except for the duel. But oh, if it had not been for his getting shot, he might not have met Viola, and that would have been a terrible pity. Biting into his tart, Henry absently wondered if she would enjoy receiving flowers.

  Probably not, considering how she refused to be complimented in any way. She would not allow the use of her title, to which she had the right; she did not appreciate being told she was pretty or that her company was favored. Indeed, she would probably hate him for sending her flowers, which meant he obviously had no choice but to do so, if only to be the thorn in her side. Until she would let him be more.

  “Let us remember that finding a wife was my idea,” Henry said. “I will do so at my own pace and only if you agree to stop interfering.”

  “Fine,” Armswell said. “But I expect to see you trying.”

  “And so I shall,” Henry assured them all. “As soon as my shoulder no longer pains me.” He shoved his blueberry tart into his mouth and turned away to admire his fireplace while the conversation behind him turned to other things. Another fifteen minutes passed before his family finally left, leaving Henry emotionally exhausted and with a headache that made him want to go outside and do something. So he went in search of some discarded clothes and stepped out into the mess his garden had become now that he’d asked his gardener to uproot almost everything.

  Grabbing a fistful of some unlucky plant, he gave it a yank and tossed it aside. It came loose easily enough with a spray of dirt to go with it. Henry grinned and moved on to the next. It was simple work, easy enough on his right shoulder as long as he used his left arm, and immensely satisfying.

  He slept well that night and felt better when he woke the next morning. Better still after eating a hearty breakfast. Most of all, after visiting a local hothouse and picking out the perfect bouquet.

  He could not wait to hear Viola’s response to it.

  Chapter 6

  Viola looked up from the hospital ledger she was going over and carefully pulled off her spectacles when she saw what could only be defined as a piece of garden maneuvering its way into her office.

  Good Lord!

  “Viola?” Emily’s voice spoke from somewhere behind the bucketful of roses, gladiola, carnations, green leafy bits and whatever else had been combined to create what appeared to be an eclectic piece of shrubbery. “Have you seen this?”

  Viola shot out of her seat and rushed to help Emily with the flowers. “Where did they come from?” Viola asked as soon as they’d found an appropriate spot for them in a corner.

  “I’m not sure. The card was addressed to you.”

  Viola took the card Emily gave her while eyeing a long leafy stem. “Is that . . .” She leaned forward and sniffed to be sure. “Rosemary?”

  “Mmm-hmm. And it is not the only herb either. There’s lavender over here, a touch of coriander there, some thyme, chamomile and what looks like a piece of licorice root.”

  Viola put her spectacles back on and tore open the card.

  I know you do not want the attention a bundle of flowers this size will ensure, but I could think of no other way to convey my thanks for the recent care you provided me during my stay at St. Agatha’s Hospital. According to The New Principles of Gardening, each plant has a medicinal purpose which I hope you will find of some use to your work. If not, please see fit to divide it up and redistribute. I am sure there are patients who would at the very least appreciate the scent.

  Sincerely,

  H.A.L

  Viola stared at the sprouting foliage. “It is from Mr. Lowell,” she murmured. Florian’s brother had elected to give her the most ridiculous display of gratitude she’d ever seen. And yet, she had to admit it was also the most thoughtful, because he intended for it to serve a purpose beyond adding color and beauty to a room. He wanted her to get some use out of it.

  Emily turned to look at her with dismay. “Is he cracked in the head?”

  Viola chuckled. “Perhaps, but in the best way possible.” She could not help but appreciate the gesture for what it was, even if she refused to fall prey to whatever ulterior motive lay behind the elaborate offering. For now, however, she would put that aside. “Come on. Let us remove the herbs and send them down to Mr. Owens.” As the hospital’s apothecary, he would surely appreciate fresh supplies. “We will divide the rest into smaller bouquets. I think we can make enough for most of the patient rooms.”

  “I’ll go and collect some empty bottles to use as vases,” Emily suggested. She left to do so, leaving Viola to pick the various herbs from between the flowers.

  “Heavens!” a familiar voice declared about five minutes later. Viola looked up from her crouched position to see Amelia Heathmore, Duchess of Coventry, and Gabriella Matthews, Duchess of Huntley, enter the room. “It smells like a perfume shop in here!”

  Viola stood and greeted both women. “It is from a former patient.” Although she’d considered Amelia and Gabriella friends since Florian had become related to both of them through marriage to Amelia and Huntley’s sister, Juliette, she did not want to share the identity of the man who’d chosen to single her out with a bucketful of flowers.

  Gabriella chuckled. “He must have been very happy with whatever it is you did for him, Viola.”

  “What makes you think it’s from a man?” Viola asked while crossing her arms and attempting to arch a brow.

  Both women cut her a look of obvious disbelief. “A woman would never have something like that delivered,” Amelia said.

  “If you ask me,” Gabriella added, “I’d say you’ve acquired quite the admirer, Viola.”

  Oh God!

  Turning to her desk, Viola discreetly opened a drawer and slipped the accompanying note from Mr. Lowell inside. “Even if that were true, I wouldn’t be interested.”

  “So then you know who the flowers are from?” Amelia asked her curiously.

  “No,” Viola lied. “I cannot imagine who it can be.”

  Gabriella and Amelia shared a conspiratorial look before Gabriella said, “I a
m sure we can deduce it if we set our minds to it. All we have to do is look at the patients you’ve had here during the past week. It would not take long for us to figure out which of the men would be able to afford a bouquet this size, for I can assure you it was not cheap.”

  “No need,” Viola said, shuffling papers together and rearranging her ledgers. “As I said, I’m not interested.”

  There was a pause—a silent void—and then, “But why?” both women asked in unison.

  “You are still young,” Gabriella said. “Especially when considering you have been married before.”

  “And aren’t young widows all the rage?” Amelia asked.

  “Oh yes,” Gabriella said. “The gentlemen will fawn over you, Viola, if you would only put in the occasional appearance at some of this Season’s events.”

  Setting her palms down onto her desk, Viola braced herself on her arms and stared at her friends. “I do not want to be fawned over or flirted with or chased by any man.” Seeing their shocked expressions, she expelled a breath and leaned back. “I have endured enough of that to last me a lifetime, I assure you. From now on the only thing that matters to me is ensuring the future of this hospital and the new rejuvenation center.” While doing my best to keep both out of Robert’s clutches.

  “Right.” Gabriella shared a look with Amelia and then asked, “How is the rejuvenation center coming along? When Florian came to call on me before leaving for Paris, he said it was almost finished.”

  Viola blinked. “Florian came to call on you?”

  “He came to call on both of us,” Amelia said. “He worried about his extended leave of absence and asked us to check up on you occasionally.”

  “In other words, you wish to see if I’m managing well enough without him?” Viola regarded the women who looked like princesses when compared to her own drab nurse’s attire.

  Gabriella nodded. “I believe we were right to do so too.” She took a step forward and peered at Viola. “There are shadows beneath your eyes. Are you sure you are getting enough sleep?”

  “As much as I can afford,” Viola assured her.

  “I think you need a reprieve,” Amelia said. “You are obviously exhausted, and with Florian away I can only imagine how trying it must be for you to run a hospital and complete the renovations on the rejuvenation center all by yourself.”

  “There is much to be done,” Viola confessed before she could think better of it.

  “And we are here to help,” Gabriella said.

  Amelia smiled. “Which is why we propose an outing.”

  Viola shook her head. “I have to finish tallying the numbers in the ledger.” It was vital she knew the financial state she was in before she heard from Robert again.

  “Bring it with you. We’ll drop it off at my house and ask Thomas’s secretary to handle it,” Amelia suggested.

  “And then we’ll go and check on the rejuvenation center together,” Gabriella added. “I’m extremely curious to know how it is coming along.”

  Viola considered their offer. She had been neglecting the rejuvenation center lately. She’d actually meant to go and visit the building later today to check up on the progress the workers were making. Feeling the weight of the world slide away just a little, she welcomed the relief she felt in response to the prospect of receiving some assistance.

  “Thank you. Both of you.”

  Gabriella smiled. “And when we are finished, we shall have an ice at Gunther’s. My treat.”

  Viola prepared to leave, only to catch sight of the flowers. She paused in the middle of putting on gloves. “What about those?” she asked just as Emily returned to the room followed by three orderlies carrying bottles and buckets of water.

  “I think they’re in good hands,” Amelia said. She turned to Emily. She was carrying two baskets full of additional glass bottles. “We intend to take Viola out for a couple of hours. Do you think you can manage without her until she returns?”

  “Absolutely,” Emily declared with a cheerful smile. “The orderlies here will help me distribute the vases once I’ve prepared them.”

  Amelia caught Viola’s eye. “See?”

  “Just grab the ledger,” Gabriella said, “and let us be off. The sooner we leave, the sooner you’ll be back.”

  Giving the room one last look, Viola was forced to acknowledge that Emily had everything well in hand. So she did as Gabriella suggested and followed both her and Amelia out of the room.

  “This is incredible,” Gabriella said as she took a turn of the rejuvenation center’s foyer half an hour later. “Just look at that ceiling!”

  Viola looked up and immediately caught her breath. When she’d instructed the artist her foreman had hired on how to paint the ceiling, she’d simply said she wanted the overall atmosphere to be exotic. Never in a million years would she have envisioned the intricate swirls of gold leaf combined with bright shades of purples and reds. It matched the selection of accent tiles running between the plainer beige marble slabs on the floor.

  “Is it coming together as you envisioned?” Viola asked Gabriella. Even though this project was hers, the idea for it had been Gabriella’s. She’d suggested it more than a year ago when Florian had mentioned a need to ensure stable funds for the hospital.

  “Oh, it exceeds every expectation I could have had,” Gabriella said. She left Viola’s side to take a turn of the gorgeous space while Amelia studied a pair of intricately chiseled columns supporting an archway at the back of the foyer.

  “Ah, Mrs. Cartwright,” Mr. Tibbs, the foreman declared by way of greeting as he entered through an arched doorway on the right. “I thought I heard voices.” He greeted Amelia and Gabriella politely before asking, “So what do you think?”

  “It is perfect,” Viola told him sincerely. “Exactly what I was hoping for. Better, even.”

  Mr. Tibbs grinned, his broad shoulders and large frame vibrating heartily as he did so. “I’m so pleased to hear it. Especially since I’ve asked the painter to create borders to match in the other rooms. Come on, I’ll show you.” He led the way through a series of rooms, each slightly different from the last but similar enough to create a unified theme.

  Elaborate borders ran along walls, edged the ceilings and framed the doorways. Most were still works in progress with apprentices marking the patterns in pencil so the artist himself could come in and paint.

  “How long do you think it will take for all of this to be finished?” Viola asked, noting that there was still a lot left to be done, including the laying of tiles in one of the indoor pools and the installation of a large stained-glass window that had yet to be delivered.

  “Another week, I expect.” They returned to the foyer, where a couple of workers were now in the process of installing a large, elaborately carved door at the opposite end. “Most of it is cosmetic from this point on since all of the structural issues have been taken care of.”

  “So it will be ready for the grand opening on the twenty-fifth?”

  “I see no reason for it not to be,” Mr. Tibbs said. “In fact—”

  “Oh my God!”

  Startled by the loud exclamation, Viola turned to find Mr. Lowell standing behind her and staring up.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Gabriella asked as she went to greet him.

  He lowered his gaze and addressed Gabriella. “Without a doubt.” His eyes scanned the room, settling on Amelia next, whose presence he acknowledged with a tip of his head, before finally honing in on Viola. His lips tilted and then he smiled, jolting her heart and producing a flutter in the pit of her belly.

  Lord, he was handsome! She’d allowed herself to forget the extent of his good looks. But the effort proved impossible when he was standing there in front of her with a roguish gleam in his dark brown eyes and a few stray locks falling haphazardly across his brow.

  “Mr. Lowell.” Why on earth did she sound so breathless?

  He leaned slightly forward, expectantly waiting for her to continue. Which
was difficult when he’d turned her brain to mush. Collecting herself was no easy task, but she was determined to try since the alternative was to surrender and risk getting hurt. So she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, intent on banishing the effect he was having on her, and asked the only question that seemed to matter right now. “What are you doing here?”

  Although she’d managed to bank all emotion beneath a bland expression, Henry had not missed the momentary look of deep appreciation in Viola’s eyes when he’d given her his full attention. She could pretend indifference as much as she liked, but Henry knew she was anything but. He even suspected she was glad to see him, though she’d never admit it. At least not to him.

  “I was on my way over to The Red Rose when I spotted the Coventry carriage and decided to look in.” He smiled broadly. “I hope my decision to do so isn’t too much of a bother.”

  “Not at all,” Viola told him after a small but noticeable pause. “You are very welcome.”

  He doubted that was completely true but refused to argue the point. Instead, he addressed the burly man still standing by Viola’s side. “Are you the man responsible for this incredible display of craftsmanship?”

  “I . . . um . . .” the man hedged.

  “This is Mr. Tibbs, my foreman,” Viola explained.

  Henry tipped his hat in Tibbs’s direction. “Sir, I salute you. Your vision is exemplary!”

  Tibbs looked visibly pleased with the compliment. “Thank you. I appreciate that, sir.” He gave a quick nod and promptly left with the excuse of having something to see to.

  As soon as he was gone, Henry took Viola boldly by the arm and led her farther away from Amelia and Gabriella under the pretext of wanting a closer look at the door a group of workers was securing with large brass hinges. “Did you receive the flowers?”

  “Yes. Thank you. It was much too much.”

  Pleased by her softer tone, he allowed himself to lean slightly closer—so close he could smell the dry scent of starch from her clothes with a hint of something else clinging to her hair. He inhaled again and froze, appreciating the fresh aroma of citrus combined with rich hints of honey and ginger. It was like a tea he wanted to drink or perhaps a cake he would like to sink his teeth into. His skin heated and desire threatened to overwhelm with such force it took every bit of restraint he possessed not to pull her against him and enjoy a small taste.