Page 50 of Elixir of a Duchess' Passion
“You would do well to contain that beast,” the doctor snapped at her, glowering at her before offering a less-than-confident glance at the spaniel between them.
“And you would do well not to come into my home, threaten me, and speak ill of my pet, Doctor,” Melissa said calmly though her teeth remained gritted. She did not allow the volume of her voice to rise even the slightest as she added, “You would also do well to keep your voice down and calmly explain why you are here, or I shall have no problem with letting mybeasthave his way with you. This is my home, and I shall be respected in it.”
At her calm words, the doctor looked more than a little flustered. His pallid complexion tinged with red as embarrassment flushed his chubby cheeks. His jowls shivered as he opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and then finally spoke, “You have no right to treat Lord Spurnrose, and if you continue to insist on doing so, I shall be forced to take action.”
“And what action might that be, sir?” Melissa asked. This time it was her turn to take a step forward. Without so much as blinking, she added, “As I said, do not come into my home and think to threaten me.”
“You are a stain upon the medical field, Lady Belmont, and my peers and I have had quite enough of your sticking your oar in where it is not required,” Doctor Redditch said, and it was quite clear to Melissa that it was taking all he had in him not to yell at her further.
She could not stop herself from laughing at the man even as Flit started to growl low in his throat once more. It was almost as if the dog was as amused as she was.
“From your anger, sir, I would assume that Viscount Spurnrose is reacting quite well to my treatment?”
The redness to the man’s face grew, and Melissa had her answer.
“Then you admit you have been treating the man?” The question was truly more an accusation, and Melissa knew exactly why. Like every other doctor, the man before her did not agree with any of her methods, choosing to treat the symptoms rather than the cause of their patients’ problems.
“I have offered advice to a neighbour and have taken nothing in return,” Melissa said carefully. “I shall not apologise for such things if progress has been made on Lord Spurnrose’s condition.”
“You … you … you have no right!” The doctor spluttered and coughed, looking as though he was so angry he couldn’t quite get the words out properly.
Continuing to keep her calm, Melissa sucked in a deep breath and said clearly, “With all due respect, it is you who has no right to come in here and tell me what I may and may not do with my time and in my own home.”
Doctor Redditch looked as though he was about to rant and rave again, but Melissa had heard quite enough. In fact, she had heard it all before and was certain there wasn’t a single other thing the doctor could say that might surprise her.
“Doctor Redditch, I thank you for your visit and for letting me know that Viscount Spurnrose is doing so well, but I would caution you to take your leave now.”
She looked at the doctor sternly, expecting that he would try to threaten her further. It would be just like a man to expect that he could tell her exactly what to do and she would listen.
“Lady Belmont, if you so much as set foot on Lord Spurnrose’s property again …”
At that, Melissa grew angry. Not only had she refrained from visiting Lord Spurnrose for the last several days to remain professional, but she had also been fighting not to do so. She would not have this man, a doctor at that, come and try to tell her where she could and could not go.
“Lord Spurnrose is a grown man, and should he request personally that I stay off his property, then I shall be glad to do so,” she insisted. Though she kept the volume of her voice the same as it had been previously, she did allow an edge to enter her tone. “I may not be a doctor, Doctor Redditch, but I am a duchess in my own right, and I demand a little respect just as I have shown you far more than you deserve.”
At that, Flit growled again, almost as if he were sharing his own agreement. Doctor Redditch did not look best pleased, and though there was anger still upon his face, he also looked wary when he glanced at the spaniel.
Determined not to hear another word from his lips, Melissa insisted, “Be wise and leave before I refrain from controlling mybeast.”
In the summer haze of the afternoon, Melissa sat beneath the willow tree that marked the end of her garden. It sat directly between her own land and Lord Spurnrose’s and was the furthest she had allowed herself to get towards his manor for several days now. Though she could just see the roof of the Spurnrose house, she tried her hardest not to look too closely, instead keeping her gaze on the pages of her journal where she had taken to writing about her clear success in treating the viscount.
Doctor Redditch’s visit had told her as much, though she couldn’t help wondering just how successful her treatment had been. A part of her was still angry that Mr Spurnrose had not visited or even sent word of how his cousin was doing if her advice had been so well received.
I have done my duty, and now it is time to move on to the next patient,Melissa told herself repeatedly as she finished the passage she had been writing in her leather-bound book, her small pot of ink propped against a stone on the grass beside her.
The warmth of the afternoon seeped into her bones, and after a long day, she was quite tired. Her garden had been tended, her house plants seen to, her hour of medical research completed.
All was well, and she took a few moments to lay her head back on the willow trunk and close her eyes.
It seemed that no sooner had she done so when Flit – ever present beside her – bounced up from where he had been lazing at her feet. Though he did not begin to bark immediately, his arousal alerted to the fact that they were no longer alone.
As soon as her eyes fluttered open again, she found a man standing over her, silhouetted against the setting sun in a blaze of golden light.
Squinting, she raised her ink-stained hand to protect her eyes and tried her hardest to recognise the man.
“Lord Spurnrose!” she exclaimed. Startled to see him, Melissa closed her journal, entirely forgetting to blot what she had just written so it would not have a chance to smudge.
In her commotion to get on her feet, she almost kicked over her pot of ink, so determined not to, she found herself stumbling instead. Directly, she tumbled into Lord Spurnrose’s open arms, bracing herself momentarily against his muscular forearms until she came to realise just what had happened.
