Page 35 of The Gentleman Physician

Julia nodded and Nathaniel allowed Virginia to leave.

“Has this door a key?” he asked.

Julia went to the bureau near the wash stand and withdrew a long black key from the drawer, then went to the door and locked it herself. She dropped her forehead to the doorframe and let out a shaky breath.

Nathaniel’s hand on the small of her back brought her head up, realizing belatedly how close they stood, their bodies only a few hand widths apart.

“We will keep your cousin and her sons safe, Julia. I promise.”

His use of her name, the earnestness in his expression, his blue eyes dark with purpose, nearly undid her. But Julia forced herself to step away and his hand fell back to his side.

“Thank you, Doctor Hastings.” She put the shield of formality between them and moved to sit in the chair vacated by her cousin. “We are in your debt.”

The truth of the statement weighed on her. Not only had Nathaniel been a caring physician, but he had taken on the role of a loyal friend to the Macon family.

Nathaniel stayed by the door, watching her, though she did not raise her eyes to his again.

“You wanted to speak to me before.” He removed his hat, holding the brim in both hands. “What did you wish to say?”

Julia shook her head. “Nothing of importance. I meant to ask after Mr. Olivier. To find out if you’d heard anything from him since yesterday.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment held in that single word brought her eyes up again, where she saw his frown deepen. What else could he think she wished to speak of? He walked to the wash stand and dropped his hat upon it, then slid his coat off his shoulders. Julia looked down at her spencer and sighed before standing to remove it.

The baron slept on.

“Is there anything we can do to waken him?” Julia asked, keeping her voice low. “To help him come to himself?”

“It would not be a kindness.” Nathaniel’s voice held a hint of warning. “Every breath is painful. Every cough hurts him. But if we stop giving him the laudanum, if we give him other liquids to flush it from his body, we could bring him around.”

“Virginia will decide.” Julia dropped back into her chair, feeling utterly spent. She closed her eyes. “Poor Virginia. Will Mr. Olivier come?”

“The moment he gets that message. I sent a footman when I left the study.”

“But you came to me before telling Virginia.” That puzzled her enough that she opened her eyes again, turning to study him. Why had he thought of her first, instead of hurrying to the woman who most needed to act?

Nathaniel hesitated, his eyes meeting hers only briefly before his gaze darted elsewhere. “I thought she might need you.”

She supposed that made sense. But sitting in the room, alone with him except for the presence of an unconscious man, Julia wondered what good his actions did. The thought came to her that she may need to look after her reputation more carefully, as being locked up in a room with a bachelor, and only a sick patient for chaperone, could hardly do her any favors.

A dry chuckle escaped her. Who would ever know, or care, about such a strange situation? If she became a governess, no one would study her past as they would her written references. The family and staff would not spread gossip, and Nathaniel wouldn’t say a word, given that his affections were likely fixed elsewhere.

“Something amusing in all of this?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

Julia winced and shook her head. This wasn’t the time or place for any mirth. “Only thinking.”

“I could use a bit of humor.”

“I am only laughing at myself, Dr. Hastings.” She folded her hands together in her lap and tried to sit straighter. “And wishing I had something to occupy myself with.”

He sighed. “I understand—”

But his words were cut short when they heard a commotion in the hall, along with raised voices.

“It seems he will not go quietly.” Nathaniel pushed away from the wall, his eyes trained on the door. “I was afraid of that.”

“My cousin has two very large footmen and a sizable groom in her employment,” Julia said, her ears tuned to the sound of scuffling feet out in the hall. “They will not give him a choice.”