Marrying Miss Hemingford by Nadia Nichols Page A

gentleman in question, who was dressed in the latest military-style coat and strapped pantaloons, all the better in Anne’s eyes for being unadorned. ‘I am sorry I did not see it.’
    â€˜You missed nothing,’ Lady Mancroft said. ‘I wish wehad not bothered. If we had gone straight to our picnic, we could have had an enjoyable afternoon. Instead…’ She paused. ‘My dear Georgiana, I was mortified on your behalf when they carried you back to that doctor’s house on a cart. I wonder at Miss Hemingford allowing it.’
    â€˜What else was I to do?’ Anne asked. ‘Aunt Bartrum needed help…’
    â€˜Oh, I give you that, but you could have sent for Dr Wells. He is my physician and one you would not be ashamed to entertain in your drawing room. He would have come in a carriage…’
    â€˜And how long would he have taken to arrive? Half an hour, even if he was at home, which he might not have been on a Sunday. Besides, though I was not the one to send for Dr Tremayne, I believe him to be competent.’ Anne’s innate sense of honesty made her defend him even when she was annoyed with him.
    â€˜Indeed, he is,’ the Captain said. ‘At least he was competent when it came to treating wounds, injuries and the kind of sickness found aboard a man o’ war, but as to doctoring in those squalid surroundings, I find that a little strange…’
    â€˜Do you know him?’ Anne asked, trying not to sound too curious.
    â€˜Did once. Served on my ship. A gallant officer. When we were in the thick of a sea battle, he was there, doing his work, calmness itself. I did not know what had become of him after he was wounded and left the service. Why did he not go home to his wife?’ He paused in an effort to remember. ‘I collect he had a wife, though perhaps he was only contemplating marriage. I am tempted to renew our acquaintance and find out what he has been up to.’
    Anne heard his words and her heart gave a little jump and then settled in her breast like a stone. If the doctor was married… What difference did it make? He was nothing to her. She was simply interested in his work and anxious to help; whether he was married or not had no bearing on that all. But if he was married, where was his wife?
    â€˜What is that to the point?’ Lady Mancroft said. ‘You should not have conveyed Mrs Bartrum to that dreadful tenement. Goodness knows what pestilence she might have picked up.’
    â€˜The rooms and the doctor were spotlessly clean,’ Anne said. ‘I would not have allowed it else.’
    â€˜Neither will be there much longer,’ Sir Gerald put in, taking a lace-edged handkerchief from his sleeve and wafting it about as if waving away the memory of the stench of the place. ‘I heard the builders are going to pull the street down. The land is wanted for more houses for the Quality.’
    â€˜But surely they cannot do that?’ Anne asked, unable to hide her dismay. ‘What will happen to Dr Tremayne’s business?’
    He shrugged his superfine-clad shoulders. ‘He will have to find other premises.’
    â€˜But where? He needs to be close to the poor people he serves. And what about the tenants in the neighbouring houses, surely they will not be put out on the street?’
    â€˜They, too, must find somewhere else. Good thing too. How can respectable inhabitants be expected to endure the stink of fish on their doorsteps, not to mention the sight of their rags? And the doctor encourages all manner of low life to visit him…’
    Anne opened her mouth to protest but her aunt’s hand on her arm stayed her. ‘I think we have said enough on the subject,’ she said. ‘Shall we speak of other things?’
    â€˜I believe there is a ball here tomorrow evening.’ Anne obeyed, but her mind was still on the problems of the doctor. Was Sir Gerald right? And if he was, where