Read Online Marrying Miss Hemingford by Nadia Nichols - Free Book Online

complexion, which was something rarely seen among the people he usually dealt with, who were raddled with illness and gaunt with hunger. He had no idea how old she was, but she was certainly no silly schoolgirl, but a self-possessed mature woman, as unlike Sophie as it was possible to be. Sophie, beautiful, spoiled, faithless Sophie, whom he had once loved. He pulled himself together; it was all in the past and he had since learned to live simply and concentrate on the problems each day brought.
    So why did the woman who faced him now make him want to rush out and buy himself a new suit of clothes and a dozen cravats, so that he could meet her on equal terms? What a ninny he was! He had no money to buy suits, hardly had enough to buy a handkerchief. And in any case it was better spent on medicines and bandages. ‘I am grateful for any help,’ he said.
    â€˜I suppose taking on a pupil would not serve?’
    â€˜It would be better than nothing, but so far none has turned up. Those whose fathers can pay fees, do not like the long hours, the unhealthy environment in which most of my poor patients live and they are afraid of catching something…’ He paused. ‘Are you not afraid of that yourself, Miss Hemingford?’
    â€˜I enjoy the rudest of health.’
    â€˜I am glad to hear it. I should hate to think of anyone as lovely as you are, falling victim to any of the common diseases to be found in my waiting room.’
    â€˜Dr Tremayne!’ She blushed crimson at the compliment.
    â€˜I beg your pardon. I am afraid I am too outspoken at times. You may blame living on board a man o’ war andthen among people who tend to say what is in their minds without troubling about convention.’
    She smiled. ‘You are forgiven.’
    â€˜I meant what I said.’
    â€˜In other words, you wish me anywhere but here.’
    â€˜Yes. No. Oh, dear, you are confusing me. Clever women always confuse me.’
    She threw back her head and gave a joyous laugh. ‘First I am lovely and now I am clever. You will quite turn my head, Dr Tremayne. I implore you to change the subject before I become too big for my boots.’
    He looked down at her neat buttoned boots and realised they had cost more than he spent on housekeeping in a month. What did he think he was at, flirting with a lady of her calibre? Oh, he might have been able to hold his own a few years back, when he was still living at home, recognised for the gentleman he was, and even later when promotion was still a possibility, but not now. His poverty was all too apparent and she was only playing with him. He could imagine her going back to her fine friends and saying, ‘I had the most extraordinary encounter with a strange pleb this afternoon…’
    â€˜I mean to try and find you an assistant,’ she said, when he had been silent so long she wondered if he would ever speak again.
    â€˜And how do you propose to do that?’
    She laughed. ‘Pay him.’
    â€˜But you cannot do that. It would be a long-term commitment…’
    â€˜And do you think I am incapable of making such a commitment?’
    â€˜Not at all,’ he said hurriedly. ‘But I do not think pin money will suffice, unless—’ He had been going to say unless she was extremely wealthy, but stopped himself in time; the state of her purse was no concern of his. ‘Surely you have family and advisers looking after your money who have to approve the way you dispose of it?’
    â€˜None,’ she said. ‘I am a free agent and I have more than I shall ever be able to spend.’
    So she was wealthy. He was not sure if he was glad or sorry for that. Apart from her name, he knew nothing else about her. Who was she? Where had she come from? How could a single woman as young as she was control her own money? Surely she was not one of those demi-reps who pranced about Brighton on the arms of their aristocratic lovers, glad to