The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) Page 2

  “All right,” he said, the warm sound of his voice rumbling over her. “Let me see your hand.”

  Patience lifted her right hand out to him and nearly sighed when he took it in his and then brushed his fingers across the back of her knuckles near the kitten bite which was glowing slightly red. The feel of his fingers against her bare hand made tingles race across her skin and heat pool deep in her belly. Heavens, what was wrong with her?

  “Definitely, infected,” he muttered. “I’ll give Cook a recipe for a poultice to draw the infection out.” Then he glanced from her hand to her eyes and Patience felt it in the depth of her soul. “I will check on you tomorrow to see how it’s doing, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Campion,” she breathed out. And what a delightful name that was. Campion, almost like Champion. And he had been that, hadn’t he? Her champion, come to save the day...or at least treat her wound. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  His brown eyes widened at bit at that, then he placed her hand back on the counterpane. “You might want to stay away from cats in the future,” he said and then turned to go.

  But her door burst open in that minute and Hope stood there, cradling Ashes in her arms. “He, um,” she began, then glanced at Sarah who would most likely run to Mama with whatever was said. “I, um, found him.”

  “Shouldn’t have even brought that thing with you,” Sarah grumbled under her breath.

  And though Patience heard the maid, she ignored the comment as Sarah was rarely in a sweet disposition. Besides, whether or not Patience had brought Ashes with her to Yorkshire or not was none of Sarah’s concern. “Oh, give him to me,” she said, reaching her hands out for the little ball of grey fur.

  Doctor Campion looked from Hope to Patience, his eyes finally settling on Ashes as Patience cradled him against her cheek. “Is this how well you listen to directions, my lady?”

  He had said to stay away from cats, but Ashes wasn’t just some random cat. Ashes was the most precious kitten ever born, and Patience loved him dearly. “He didn’t mean to bite me, Doctor,” she said. “He was just frightened. He’s the sweetest little thing in the world. Truly.”

  Doctor Campion’s warm gaze met hers once more and he sighed, softening his features slightly. “I will check on you tomorrow, but do try not to have other injuries by then.”

  Sarah cast the sisters a censorious expression before leading the country doctor from Patience’s borrowed bedchambers.

  As soon as they were gone, Patience fell back against her pillows with Ashes and pressed his little head against her cheek. She smoothed her hand over his fur and couldn’t help but smile when he started purring. “Where did you find him?” she asked once Hope had closed the door to keep anyone from overhearing their conversation.

  “Well, he soiled one of the duke’s slippers, Patience.”

  Oh good heavens! She lifted Ashes out so she could see him better. “We’re trying to find a way to save you, naughty boy.”

  “I took the pair and am hoping His Grace won’t notice they’re missing as he does have quite a few pairs.” She dropped onto the edge of Patience’s bed. “What did the doctor say?”

  The doctor. Doctor Campion. Patience couldn’t hold back a smile as she glanced at her sister. “He was handsome, wasn’t he?”

  Hope blinked at her. “Ashes?”

  Well, Ashes was handsome but in a completely different way than Doctor Campion. Patience shook her head. “No, no, no, the doctor. Wasn’t he handsome?”

  Hope shrugged. “I didn’t notice, honestly.”

  Heavens! Had Hope gone blind after Lord Kilworth’s untimely death? “How could you not have noticed?” she asked. “He was the single most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

  “I suppose I prefer men who don’t sport blood stained waistcoats.” Her sister shrugged again. “Anyway, his handsomeness aside, what did he say about your hand?”

  “Something about a poultice and that he’ll be back tomorrow to see me,” she sighed that last part.

  Hope rolled her eyes. “I suppose you could always twist an ankle or break an arm to get him to come back sooner.”

  Patience laughed in response. What a silly suggestion…She might consider it.

  “They’re twins?” Matt asked as the slightly annoyed maid led him back toward the grand staircase. Though it was a ridiculous question to ask. After all, the two pretty blondes were identical, except for their smiles. Lady Patience had a slightly crooked smile that was rather endearing.

  “Triplets,” the maid grumbled. “Three times the trouble, sir. Of that I can assure you.”

  “Triplets?” Matt stopped where he stood. “And they each survived birth?” He wasn’t familiar with even one case of such a thing. His class had studied the corpses of a mother and her three infants at Edinburgh, which was rare enough, but not even one of the four of them survived childbirth.

  The maid nodded as she started to descend the steps. “To cause nothing but havoc for their brother, Lord Bradenham. Poor fellow is quite put upon.”

  Matt had no idea who Bradenham was. He didn’t hail from this part of Yorkshire, that was for certain. “And their mother survived childbirth as well?” he asked, following the maid’s lead, and he couldn’t help but think about the poor Mullin children now that their mother had passed away that very day.

  “Lady…er…the dowager marchioness is quite well, sir.”

  Fascinating! A live birth of three infants and their mother! He wasn’t certain of the odds off the top of his head, but they were most indeed rare. “And they’re all identical, the triplets?”

  She nodded once more as she started toward the kitchens. “I’ve been employed by Lord Bradenham for more than a decade and often I can’t tell the three of them apart.”

  It truly was fascinating. He’d been a little taken aback when he’d first entered Lady Patience’s room. After the day he’d had, the last thing he expected was to see such beauty shining back at him. And the way she’d spoken to him, slightly breathy…He’d had to remind himself that he wasn’t just any man in that moment, that he’d been called to Danby Castle due to his position as local doctor. The lady had an injury and it didn’t matter how lovely she was, he needed to remember his position and keep from flirting with the girl, even if she had been the single bright spot of his day. And then to have seen a second girl who was her exact duplicate! And to think there was a third girl who looked the same as well.

  “Campion!” boomed an all too familiar voice.

  Matt spun on his heel and smiled at his commanding benefactor. “Your Grace, I trust you’re well.”

  Danby’s cane clicked against the marble floor as he started toward Matt. The duke, a large man, even for his age, tended to intimidate most people, but as Matt had seen him in nothing more than his stockings during one examination or another, he was well aware that the duke, like all other men, was just a man at the end of the day.

  “How is my great-niece?” he asked.

  Stunning, with her blonde locks, emerald hued eyes, and that crooked smile... “She has a slight infection,” he said instead. “I was just about to give Cook instructions for a poultice.”

  “She apparently brought some sort of hellcat with her from Buckinghamshire.” Danby scowled slightly.

  Hellcat? The little bundle of fur she’d cradled in her arms hardly resembled a hellcat, not that Matt had a ton of experience with cats one way or the other. “I was surprised to just learn that your great-nieces are triplets, Your Grace. That is quite rare, as I’m sure you’re probably aware.”

  The duke’s scowl darkened. “Their father never did anything by half, Campion. Lived fast and died fast. It stands to reason he’d give his wife three at once.”

  Matt didn’t really think it worked that way, but one had to know which battles to fight with the Duke of Danby and this wasn’t one of those battles. “Well, I do hope I get to see more of Lady Patience…Well, all of them while they’re visiting. T
he likelihood of their birth is quite astounding, honestly.”

  His Grace looked Matt up and down as though it was the first time he’d ever really seen him. That was odd as he had known the man for more than half a decade. “Have you already had supper, my boy?”

  “I actually have supper waiting for me at home, sir.”

  “Yes, well, another time, then.” His Grace nodded in farewell and started towards his drawing rooming, which did seem to be overflowing with people.

  Matt glanced at the lady’s maid by his side and said, “I know the way to the kitchens. There’s no need to escort me.” Then he started on his way to that very place.

  Once there, the duke’s portly cook shined with joy. “Doctor Campion!” She dusted her hands on her apron. “What a nice surprise!”

  Matt smiled at the woman who had only ever been kind. “I am glad to see you on your feet,” he said. “The mustard compress is working?”

  “Like a charm,” she gushed. “And I need to be on my feet with the hoards Danby has filled the castle with. I don’t have a spare minute to worry over gout these days.” She offered him a silver tray plied with scones, clearly remembering how much he adored them.

  Matt took a scone and popped a piece of it into his mouth. It was delicious as always. No matter how much he adored his own cook, she wasn’t the culinary genius as the one the duke employed. After a moment he asked, “Why does His Grace have so many people at the Castle? I thought his holiday gathering had dwindled the last few years.”

  Cook sprinkled some flour on the nearby cutting board and said, “He’s satisfied his children and grandchildren are situated, and now he’s moved on to his brothers’ and sisters’ families.”

  Like his triplet great-nieces? “He plans to match them all up like he did his own grandchildren?” A few years back, the crafty duke had married off the vast majority of his grandchildren one particular Christmas. It was a feat many in northern Yorkshire still talked about, especially this time of year. The fact that he was up to his old tricks bothered Matt slightly, however, and he couldn’t help but frown.

  Cook spread some dough out on the cutting board. “I would never presume to know what goes on in His Grace’s head.”

  Neither would Matt, not normally. But a pretty blonde with a crooked smile flashed in his mind. “I’m actually here to have a poultice made for one of His Grace’s guests. But you do appear to have your hands full. If you can direct me to your limes and Castor oil, I can make it myself.” And see that it was properly applied to Lady Patience’s wound. He truly should do that. She was, after all, his patient.

  A knock sounded on Patience’s door and her heart thudded to a stop. Who was it this time? She’d already sent both Hope and Grace on their way, which made her fear the answer was her mother, and she truly was not looking forward to yet another lecture. She plucked Ashes up from his spot beside her on the bed and held him near her chest as though to protect him from Mama’s certain wrath.

  “Come in,” she answered brightly, as being cheerful was always the best way to deal with her mother. It didn’t always help, but it couldn’t hurt.

  But when the door pushed open, Doctor Campion stood there instead, with a small tray in his hands, looking as dashing as Sir Lancelot ever could have. “Lady Patience,” he said with a smile. “With all the activity in the castle, I thought perhaps I should apply that poultice, after all.”

  Her heart actually leapt in her chest. “Oh,” she said softly. “Thank you.” Most definitely her champion.

  He placed the tray on her bedside table and then sat on the very edge of her bed. Good heavens! Patience’s pulse raced wildly, she couldn’t help it. Never in her life had a man…Well, other than her brothers, not that they counted for anything...But no other man had ever sat on her bed. That it should be the strikingly handsome Doctor Campion was enough to almost make her faint.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, concern in his warm eyes.

  Heavens! Had she blushed or something? “Um—” she bit her lip “—I’m fine.”

  A smile tugged on his lips, and she thought perhaps he had seen through her and that he realized how his nearness affected her. He was, after all, a doctor, and something like sudden blushing would be noticed, wouldn’t it?

  “It won’t take but a minute,” he said. “Though you’ll have to let go of your kitten, my lady.”

  “Oh! Sorry.” Patience released her hold on Ashes who plopped back onto the counterpane. Then she lifted her injured hand out to Doctor Campion.

  He took her fingers in his hand once more, and warmth shot through her again. Goodness! Who would have ever guessed how hot it could be in Yorkshire in December? Especially with the way Doctor Campion was looking at her. Patience wasn’t certain she even knew her name at the moment. Her heart fluttered and she didn’t think she’d ever—

  But then he said, “This might sting a little,” which broke the spell he had on her just slightly.

  Sting? Patience forced herself to look at the strip of cloth, which was covered in a yellowish goo of some sort. “What’s in it?” She wrinkled up her nose, not wanting anything to sting her hand if she could help it. Perhaps there was something else he could use.

  “Castor oil and lime juice,” he replied. Then just as he was about to apply the cloth to her skin, Ashes pushed his head against Doctor Campion’s leg as though he was being neglected and was in desperate need of attention all of a sudden. The handsome doctor looked down at the kitten and shook his head. “Maybe you are a hellcat, after all.”

  Patience’s eyes widened at that. “A hellcat?”

  Doctor Campion smiled at her once more. “His Grace’s words, not mine.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back. “Look at his precious little face, Doctor. Does he have the face of a hellcat?”

  “I would argue, my lady, that looks can be deceiving.” He returned to his work and placed the gooey cloth on her hand.

  Patience winced. It did hurt like the dickens, probably the lime juice in her wound. Blast it all!

  “See, it’s not so bad,” he said, wrapping her hand with gauze to keep the poultice in place.

  Not so bad. “Have you ever put lime juice on your open wounds?” she grumbled. Though she smiled a second later when his warm gaze heated her through once more.

  “I would think,” he began.

  But whatever he meant to say was cut off when Patience’s mother stomped into the room in a fury. “Patience Post!” she hissed. Then she glanced briefly at Doctor Campion, but obviously found him unimportant enough to stop her tirade. “That beast of yours destroyed one of His Grace’s slippers. Did you know that?”

  Blast! Wherever Hope had hidden the set of slippers, it obviously wasn’t a good enough spot. “I’m certain Ashes was just frightened, Mama. He’s not accustomed to Danby Castle.”

  “Well, he can get accustomed to living out of doors because that’s where he’s going.” She started towards the bed and lifted her hand out for Patience to give her the kitten. “Let me have him.”

  Panic lodged in Patience’s throat. She couldn’t throw Ashes out into the freezing temperatures of Yorkshire! He was just a tiny little kitten. He did have a lot of fur, but he had no idea how to survive on his own, and it was the coldest winter on record. “Mama,” she said, her voice an octave higher than normal. “I’ll keep an eye on him, I promise. And—”

  “And let him bite you again?” Mama narrowed her eyes on Patience. “This isn’t up for debate. I will not have that animal destroying anything else in the castle. Now give him to me.”

  Tears threatened to spill down Patience’s cheeks. Why was Mama so intent on being vicious? Ever since they’d arrived at Danby Castle, she’d been angry about everything. If she could just listen to reason. If she’d just give Ashes one more chance…

  Doctor Campion smoothed a finger down the kitten’s back. “I’ll take him home with me, if you’d allow that, my lady.”

  Her eyes shot to the doct
or’s. Oh, how she adored him. Patience could have kissed him right then and there, not that she wanted to lose Ashes at all. But Doctor Campion coming to her kitten’s rescue was better than Mama tossing the little ball of grey fluff out into the cold. And if Ashes was at the doctor’s house, it would give her time to sort out a plan to keep the kitten.

  Of course, Mama’s mouth fell open in surprise at the doctor’s offer. “I hardly think you want that thing, and—”

  But Doctor Campion’s gaze was still on Patience. “When I check in on you tomorrow, I’ll let you know how he’s getting along.”

  Patience nearly sighed again. Her champion, indeed. Doctor Campion was a true hero, the truest she’d ever met.

  “He likes a little cream at bedtime.” Then she shook her head, still surprised by his offer. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  He smiled once more. “I have a feeling you’ll worry yourself all night about the little fellow otherwise and it’s bad for my business if my patients don’t get better. Besides, I could always use a little company.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” she gushed. “I can never thank you enough.”

  “If you forgive me for the lime juice, we’ll call it even.”

  Damn it all. The little kitten’s claws were as sharp as needles against Matt’s skin as he shielded the thing in his greatcoat from the wintry Yorkshire wind.

  Ashes was not a good traveler. He meowed nonstop from the moment Matt had settled onto Sanus’s back until they’d finally arrived at Allwynds. Of course, if someone had plucked Matt from Lady Patience’s bed and taken him somewhere else, he’d have complained the whole way too. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the blush that had stained her cheeks when he’d first sat on the edge of her bed.

  She had reason to blush too. Especially if she knew the thoughts that had darted in and out of his mind while he’d sat there. Matt shook his head to clear the madness from his mind. He was a damned idiot. He shouldn’t have any inappropriate thoughts about Lady Patience. She was a patient, after all. And the great-niece to the Duke of Danby, sister to the Marquess of Bradenham, whoever he was, and Matt was…Well, neither of those things. Just a lowly country doctor with a large cottage and a rather happy life. He was far from destitute and managed his funds well. But he wasn’t in the same category of men she must usually associate with, not by a long shot.