Under the Kissing Bough by Shannon Donnelly Page A
Authors: Shannon Donnelly
Tags: Romance
Ads: Link
who has looked after us far longer than we deserve. Dr. Ibbottson, this is my wife-to-be."
A light flickered at the back of Dr. Ibbottson's watery eyes as he glanced at Eleanor, and Geoff had the oddest feeling that the man looked guilty about something. Lord, was he keeping it secret that the earl was in worse condition than his letter had hinted? It would be very like the earl to demand that Ibbottson keep silent—and, as a doctor, Ibbottson would be bound to keep such a confidence.
Fear tightened inside Geoff, and his hands chilled. Ancient memories of his mother's death—the abruptness of it, the fracture it had left in the family, the hole it had carved inside him—started to crawl loose. He shut them off, pushing them ruthlessly aside and locking them away.
Ibbottson was saying something to Eleanor, something about wishing her well and that she must look upon him as an old friend if she ever needed anyone. Geoff scowled. The man's tone sounded so grim that he could be mistaken for comforting the fatally doomed, not congratulating a bride.
"You will stay to dinner?" Geoff asked, his words abrupt. He wanted time to sit with the man and see what he could pry out of the fellow about his father's true condition.
That look flickered at the back of Ibbottson's eyes again, and he shifted on his feet, as if his own weight was too much for him to carry. "Thank you, no. Mrs. Patterson is expecting her third child, and I promised to call upon her today."
"Then tomorrow?" Geoff said, determined. As a precaution against the whims of fate, he had purchased a special license so that he and Eleanor could marry when and where they chose, and not be bound by the laws that kept weddings to morning hours and sanctioned churches. He would prefer not having to rush this affair—was it not already approaching too fast? However, if his father's condition had worsened, he would put forward the wedding to this very afternoon if need be.
Ibbottson had been muttering about patients to see, and the uncertain weather, and not at all acting as if the earl was about to expire.
And Eleanor, her voice shy, added, "Please do come, sir. Is it not a season to share warmth and good spirits?"
Geoff glanced down at her. She had lowered her chin, but she gave the doctor a charming smile that curved her lips and warmed her eyes. With a slight shock, Geoff realized that when she chose to focus that smile of hers upon a fellow it wove a potent allure. The doctor stammered a response, but bowed and gave way before her.
And why the devil has she never turned that particular look upon me? Geoff thought with a scowl.
With another bow, the doctor took his leave.
Eleanor kept her smile in place as she glanced back to Geoff, but the charm she had directed to the doctor was already fading. That irritated him, and it irritated him even more that he cared. After all, what the devil right did he have to demand anything from her? He had set out his terms for a marriage, and now he only waited to hear her terms on that damnable card. And hear them he would. Soon, he vowed.
Opening the door, he swept his arm out for her to enter before him, and he said, meaning to keep his voice light, but unable to keep a touch of irritation from his tone, "Save some of those feminine wiles of yours for my father."
She shot him a puzzled glance, but went into the room. Pulling in a deep breath, Geoff followed, feeling all too like Daniel entering the lion's den.
And he hoped like the devil that the earl was in a decent mood and on his best behavior, or poor Eleanor might well decide she would do better not to marry into this family after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eleanor stepped into a dark, cavernous room. Her courage faltered and she fingered her high-waisted wool gown and wished she had changed into something better than a creased traveling dress. However, the touch of Lord Staines's—Geoffrey's hand—at her back kept her moving forward into the gloom.
Outside, winter
A light flickered at the back of Dr. Ibbottson's watery eyes as he glanced at Eleanor, and Geoff had the oddest feeling that the man looked guilty about something. Lord, was he keeping it secret that the earl was in worse condition than his letter had hinted? It would be very like the earl to demand that Ibbottson keep silent—and, as a doctor, Ibbottson would be bound to keep such a confidence.
Fear tightened inside Geoff, and his hands chilled. Ancient memories of his mother's death—the abruptness of it, the fracture it had left in the family, the hole it had carved inside him—started to crawl loose. He shut them off, pushing them ruthlessly aside and locking them away.
Ibbottson was saying something to Eleanor, something about wishing her well and that she must look upon him as an old friend if she ever needed anyone. Geoff scowled. The man's tone sounded so grim that he could be mistaken for comforting the fatally doomed, not congratulating a bride.
"You will stay to dinner?" Geoff asked, his words abrupt. He wanted time to sit with the man and see what he could pry out of the fellow about his father's true condition.
That look flickered at the back of Ibbottson's eyes again, and he shifted on his feet, as if his own weight was too much for him to carry. "Thank you, no. Mrs. Patterson is expecting her third child, and I promised to call upon her today."
"Then tomorrow?" Geoff said, determined. As a precaution against the whims of fate, he had purchased a special license so that he and Eleanor could marry when and where they chose, and not be bound by the laws that kept weddings to morning hours and sanctioned churches. He would prefer not having to rush this affair—was it not already approaching too fast? However, if his father's condition had worsened, he would put forward the wedding to this very afternoon if need be.
Ibbottson had been muttering about patients to see, and the uncertain weather, and not at all acting as if the earl was about to expire.
And Eleanor, her voice shy, added, "Please do come, sir. Is it not a season to share warmth and good spirits?"
Geoff glanced down at her. She had lowered her chin, but she gave the doctor a charming smile that curved her lips and warmed her eyes. With a slight shock, Geoff realized that when she chose to focus that smile of hers upon a fellow it wove a potent allure. The doctor stammered a response, but bowed and gave way before her.
And why the devil has she never turned that particular look upon me? Geoff thought with a scowl.
With another bow, the doctor took his leave.
Eleanor kept her smile in place as she glanced back to Geoff, but the charm she had directed to the doctor was already fading. That irritated him, and it irritated him even more that he cared. After all, what the devil right did he have to demand anything from her? He had set out his terms for a marriage, and now he only waited to hear her terms on that damnable card. And hear them he would. Soon, he vowed.
Opening the door, he swept his arm out for her to enter before him, and he said, meaning to keep his voice light, but unable to keep a touch of irritation from his tone, "Save some of those feminine wiles of yours for my father."
She shot him a puzzled glance, but went into the room. Pulling in a deep breath, Geoff followed, feeling all too like Daniel entering the lion's den.
And he hoped like the devil that the earl was in a decent mood and on his best behavior, or poor Eleanor might well decide she would do better not to marry into this family after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eleanor stepped into a dark, cavernous room. Her courage faltered and she fingered her high-waisted wool gown and wished she had changed into something better than a creased traveling dress. However, the touch of Lord Staines's—Geoffrey's hand—at her back kept her moving forward into the gloom.
Outside, winter
Similar Books
