Page 3 of The Marquess's Scandalous Game
His gaze bored into her. “In your blood? Really?”
Emma’s heart fluttered at his bold stare, and she rushed to answer. “Yes. My grandmother was a healer who taught the skill to her daughters. My mother was quite versed in it. She was only too pleased to teach me while I was growing up. Whenever I visited my mother’s family, we practiced medicine, which is why I am so knowledgeable. My mother’s involvement had waned once she started having children, but she kept abreast wherever she could and passed her knowledge down to me.”
His brows shot up. “How intriguing and certainly unconventional. Who might your patients be?”
Emma smiled with satisfaction when she thought about those she had assisted. “I helped my uncles with a lot of theirpatients who were mostly local villagers. These poor people often worked fourteen to sixteen hours daily and could barely feed themselves, much less see a doctor. Most of my father’s staff have also realized they can rely on me for care. I supposed while other young ladies patronized charities, I am most passionate about my pursuit.”
“It is a noble endeavor,” he said with conviction.
Was that admiration she heard in his voice? Emma warmed all over to think that he had not dismissed her endeavors. She regarded him with renewed interest, wondering about his identity and why he hid it.
“A few times when I visited my mother’s town, there were not enough physicians in times of severe illness and disease, so many learned to care for their families and community. I suppose you could say that I learned even more by default.”
He gazed at her for a moment. “I can tell you are compassionate. You care about healing and thus your patients.”
Emma flushed at the compliment, and she was certain her cheeks would be a deep shade of red. “It is kind of you to say so.”
Emma did not want to divulge everything. What she did not tell the stranger was that after her mother died and her father retreated into himself, Emma and her siblings spent a great deal of time with her mother’s family. In her grief, healing was like a crutch that helped her to cope with her mother’s loss. Her need to heal was from a place of compassion for others. She realized she could not ignore a person in distress. Her love and passion grew even greater. It was then that Emma decided against marriage to pursue this new passion.
Emma did not think it was feasible to marry. However, she had given it a great deal of thought, and if she were to marry, it would not be to a lofty-positioned gentleman who would force her to give up her calling. That would be most of the men in thehaut ton.
“Is it only thebodythat you can heal?”
Emma felt his gaze slowly roam over her. She was sure she had not imagined it. She was fully clothed, yet he made her feel exposed. Her skin tingled. “Whatever do you mean?” She forced herself not to think of the sensation she felt, although she must admit, she liked it.
“Is it only the body, or can you heal the soul?” he asked in a hushed voice.
Emma stared at him bemused, her chest unexpectedly aching. “How could one person heal another’s soul? I have never heard of such a thing. Yet I must wonder the kind of pain that could ravage one’s soul. It must be horrendous, and if I could learn to heal a soul, I would.”
CHAPTER 2
The mysterious stranger sucked in an audible breath at her reply. His legs were slightly spread, and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other as if to make himself ready.
But ready for what?
Emma’s heart began to pound wildly. If she did not know better, she would describe it as a look of menace, but what threat could she possibly pose to him? He was almost a giant. The gentleman’s brows furrowed deeply; he hunched his shoulders and clenched his fists.
The sudden change in his countenance caused Emma’s palms to grow sweaty, and there were butterflies in her stomach. There was something amiss; whatever it was, it ate at him. Emma had the overpowering need to reach out, to touch and comfort him. She told herself it was the healer inside that drove her compassion and empathy.Nothing else. She was acutely aware of his unease.
Emma’s gaze settled on his face, and instantly, his jaws clenched. His eyes widened, the skin beneath them crinkled, and looked about the garden as though he was trying to seeall possible dangers. Slowly, he raised his hand and rubbed the nape of his neck.
Oh dear.
Emma’s father tended to stroke or rub his nape when he was upset with her. It was his way of saying she was a pain in the neck. The gentleman’s countenance changed when she answered his last question. Why would that provoke such a reaction? What malady was he afflicted with? She cast a glance over his well-built frame, and he appeared perfectly healthy, altogether a fine physical specimen. Emma swiftly concluded it must be a malady of the heart or soul. He may take some comfort in unburdening himself, but it was unlikely that he would feel comfortable doing so. Not with a total stranger. Perhaps she should try anyway to get him to speak of his troubles. If she did not try, she would never know. “If I may …”
Emma got no further, for the gentleman moved toward her with purposeful strides. Tension coiled within her, and she froze into place when all of her instincts screamed at her to turn around and flee. As he came closer, Emma realized how much he towered over her, and she was sure he was taller than six feet. It was then she noted he had black, shiny hair, and he was cleanly shaven. She did not feel threatened by his stature or his nearness. Fear was not what she felt but rather an alarming allure she could not explain.
He stopped in front of Emma, and she did not breathe.
His hooded gaze landed on her like an anvil. “I shall return to the ballroom. I bid you good evening, Miss Corbett,” he said in a clipped tone.
His baritone voice had lost its luster. It was replaced with one that was hoarse and crackling. What a transformation. Once again at a loss for words, Emma nodded. She stood aside on the path and watched his retreating back. Just as quickly as he hademerged from his hiding place, he disappeared to be merged into the crowd once more.
Emma felt a strange yearning that was quite remarkable and foreign to her. It was a peculiar sensation that caused her heart to long for something more, although she had no notion what that was. Now that he had abandoned her in the garden, she would not have cause to find out. Why did he have such an intense need to get away from her? Emma narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together.
She wondered what he would do if they came face to face with each other in the ballroom. Would he pretend he had never seen her, or would he ask her to dance? It would not be the latter. That was a fanciful thought since they had not been introduced. It was clear that the gentleman did not want Emma to learn too much about him, but she had caught a glimpse of his sadness. She knew that emotion well.
Emma keenly detected emotions because she had five siblings: Cora, Anna, William, Louise, and Percy, and they had lost their mother a few years past. As Emma was the eldest, she had to reach inside herself to harvest her inner strength to care for her siblings. Her father had been an absolute mess, so he had been in no position to care for them. She had never lost herself to pain and tears. She was too busy caring for everyone. She missed her mother terribly.
