Page 15 of Her Tempting Traitor
She could speak? And when shedidspeak, her voice reached down into his chest and wrapped around something and tugged hard?
Of course she can speak, ye dobber. She was likely just too busy taking her brother’s notes to speak before.
Sir Richard was obviously as surprised as Cassian, because he was gaping at her. “Does it matter?—”
“Of course it matters,” the doctor exclaimed. “That’s why she—why I—why we asked it!”
His sister was nodding. “If an animal was raised in captivity, she’ll know and respond to her name when I—when we—when Hunter examines her.”
“Elizabeth,” blurted Gus. When all eyes swung on him, including Cassian’s, he flushed, but stuck his chin out. “Her name is Elizabeth, and Uncle Dickie says shewasborn in captivity, in France.”
The redhaired beauty was nodding thoughtfully, although her gaze switched to Cassian. “It seems your son is interested in the animal, Mr. Grey. Perhaps he would like to join us when we examine her?”
Cassian heard Gus’s excited inhalation at the proposal, and so nodded. Or tried to nod.Intendedto nod. Just as soon as he stopped staring at the way her midnight blue eyes contrasted with that bright hair…
It was Sir Richard who rumbled, “Oh, certainly, Augustus can join us, as long as he stands back. I trust him, and he is after all an intellectual boy, so the no-amateur rule—no offense, my dear—doesn’t apply to him. Doctor Butcombe, what exactly do you think is wrong with her?” He had already gestured for the veterinarian to follow him closer toward the recumbent elephant. “Everything I’ve read says that it’s too early in the pregnancy for her to be laboring…”
Doctor Butcombe—who’d introduced himself asHunter—glanced almost hopelessly over his shoulder at his sister as he followed Sir Richard. Gus followed eagerly, but Cassian? He was nailed in place, utterly nailed by a weak leg and a midnight gaze.
“Gabby!” the Doctor called frantically, and she suddenly jerked her attention to her brother.
“Why, it isjustlike inGeneva, Hunter,” she called, too loudly. “I suspect you will want to do avisual examination only, until we get her back to her stable?”
“Yes!” Nodding gratefully, her brother shrugged at Sir Richard. “Yes, yes. Visual examination only. Just like Genoa—um, Geneva?”
Miss Butcombe strode with confidence toward them—and the sick elephant—and Cassian found himself drifting after her in her wake, more intrigued than aroused at this point. She was bold and outspoken, but acted as a mere secretary for her brother—who was clearly bumbling and forgetful?
“Why,I remember you telling me,” she was saying as she slipped her arm through her brother’s, “about how you diagnosed that pregnant bison with Malta fever last year. Remember?” Even from behind, Cassian could see how she squeezed his arm. A kindly reminder? “Pregnant animals can be delicate. Or so you said.”
“Delicate, yes,” the Doctor said in relief, turning back to Sir Richard. “Martha fever. Visual examination only, until we can see her in her stall.”
But Sir Richard was shaking his head. “I specifically sent for you, my boy, because of your experience with pregnant mammals. I’ve been very careful with her care—only thebest feed, hired my most trusted caretakers. You understand, I cannot allow your secretary to participate in her care as well—no offense, miss.”
If Cassian hadn’t been staring at Miss Butcombe, he would have missed the shadow that crossed her face moments before a pleasant—if vacant—smile was plastered on her lips. “Of course, we cannot have amateurs stomping about,” she agreed, and when she squeezed his arm again, her brother mumbled an echo: “Of course.”
Surprised at the strange response, Cassian dropped his gaze to his son…only to see Gus frowning thoughtfully at Miss Butcombe as well.
“After all, we know women are too silly to participate in veterinary medicine, do we not, Hunter?” she said too-brightly, jerking Cassian’s attention back. “In fact, I am feeling ever so weak and tired. My, if I have to stand much longer I will simply faint away. I think I should retire to the house and oversee our luggage, brother—not actually unpacking it myself, of course. Lawks.”
The doctor, who’d been frowning down at her in confusion, now turned pale. “Uh—there’s nae need?—”
“Capital!” boomed Sir Richard, already dragging Doctor Butcombe away. “Cassian, lad, could you point Miss Butcombe toward Zilphia? She’ll get you all settled, m’dear.”
And then Cassian was left staring at the intriguing redhead, who managed to be desirable while wearing a serviceable drab frock and a too-big bonnet both of yesteryear’s fashions, as they were abandoned in favor of a sick pachyderm.
The woman was no debutante, even had she been dressed finely enough to be considered one; she was well past the first—and second and third—blush of youth. Clearly Doctor Butcombe’s veterinary work paid minimally, and he supported his sister in commensurate style.
Surprisingly, knowing her position in Society was far closer to his than Sir Richard’s, put Cassian more at ease. Here was someone who had known some level of struggle, of hardship. He’d spent a lifetime pretending to be better than he was—even when it came to courting Artemesia—and it was a relief to know he didn’t need to at this moment.
So with a brisk nod of acknowledgement, he turned back toward the house, leaning on his cane across the wet grass. “Come, Miss Butcombe. I’ll walk ye back, but forgive me if I dinnae offer ye my arm.”
She didn’t speak, but fell in at his side, matching her steps to his—a courtesy.
He couldn’t decide if he was surprised or offended that she’d noticed.
Hm.
“Thank you for your offer, Mr. Grey.”
