Page 71 of The Duelist for the Ton
“And what of the hundreds of others I treat, Lady Portia? Ye cannot save everyone.”
“Och, let the lass help the wee girl if she’s so inclined,” Mrs. McIver said. “Ye’ve still to raise the funds for yer venture, and she’ll have nowhere to go until then.”
“I’ve another donation for you, Dr. McIver,” Portia said, lowering her voice and glancing toward her brother—but he was engrossed in conversation with their host. “I can send it over as soon as I return to London.”
“I’m afraid ye must wait until next month, lass,” Dr. McIver said, taking his wife’s hand. “My wife and I are taking a vacation in the Highlands. It’s almost twenty years to the day that she made me the happiest man alive.”
Portia’s heart swelled at the love in their eyes as they exchanged a glance. Would she ever experience such a love—a love that lasted for decades?
“Then, with your permission, I’ll bring it to you myself on your return and you can tell me all about your vacation,” Portia said. “It’s fifty pounds. Perhaps it will be sufficient for your venture. And I might have more to give you next month.”
“That’s too generous of ye, lass. What must yer brother think?”
She linked her arm with his and glanced toward her brother. “What Adam doesn’t know brings him to no harm.”
“I wouldn’t want ye to deceive yer brother, Lady Portia. He’s a fine man. What say ye, colonel?”
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “That it’s wrong to conceal the truth.”
“Even for a good cause?” Portia asked.
His expression hardened. “No matter the nobility of the objective, I cannot condone any form of deception. To show such a lack of integrity is most reprehensible.”
At that moment, Eleanor’s voice rang out. “Colonel! We’re about to begin. Come choose your bow.”
“At your service, Duchess,” he said, his smile returning, and approached her.
“I’m afraid ye must excuse me for a moment,” Dr. McIver said. “I fear I’ve taken a little too much of our hostess’s fine lemonade.” He trotted off toward the building, and Portia linked her arm through Mrs. McIver’s.
“Does your husband need to raise a substantial sum to fund his venture?”
“One hundred and fifty pounds will secure the building. We can fund very little of it ourselves. Alastair will insist on treating those who cannot afford to pay, though I love him all the morefor it.” She turned her adoring gaze on her husband’s retreating back and sighed.
“Dr. McIver is fortunate in his choice of wife,” Portia said.
“I’m the fortunate one, Lady Portia. Alastair loves me enough to indulge my wish to assist him in his work rather than insist I remain in the home. Marriage is a step into the unknown—we know so little of our prospective partners that uniting ourselves to them for life carries such a risk.”
“And that risk is greater for a wife, because she’s the one surrendering her body and her freedom to her husband.”
“Precisely. We women must ascertain that our prospective partner for life is in possession of a good soul. Of course, I knew Alastair was a man of honor, but nevertheless, he’s granted me freedoms that I could never dream of having had I married a gentleman. Though, of course, there are some fine gentlemen here today.”
“Eleanor is to be applauded for her choice of guests,” Portia said.
“One in particular, perhaps?” Mrs. McIver gave a shy smile. “I trust I’ve not spoken out of turn.”
“Of course not.”
“Excellent. In which case, permit me to say that I trust when your time comes, you will choose as wisely for yourself as I did for myself.”
“Portia, darling, do join us!” Eleanor called out. “We’re ready to begin.” She gestured to the man standing beside her in a tweed jacket. “Our gamekeeper James has concealed ten targets in the woodland between here and the line of fir trees in front of the lake. Thank you, James.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Eleanor continued. “Our footmen are manning each target to keep a tally of your scores. You each have ten arrows, one for each target. If you fire more than one arrow at a target, youforfeit your score for that target. If you deviate from the path, you forfeit the game.” She smiled. “After all, deviation from the path risks your being hit by a stray arrow, and I would not send you home injured, even if we are in the company of the finest doctor in the country.”
“Who is currently languishing on the privy,” Portia’s brother said, chuckling. “Oh no—here he comes.” He waved to Dr. McIver, who was returning from the building. “Glad you could join us.”
“We’re fortunate to have Dr. McIver here today,” Stephen said, “unless you know how to bandage a wound, Foxton?”
