Page 28 of Good Duke Gone Hard

“Yes, I enjoy painting. It clears the mind,” she spun a glance toward Jonathan, “Until it doesn’t.” He couldn’t help giving her a crooked grin. “But usually it does.”

“Yes. Clearly,” the doctor chuckled to himself. “Might you join us for some tea?”

“Certainly.” She grinned at the doctor. “There’s nothing I love more than a spot of tea.” She winked at Jonathan, and he had to rub his hand over his chest to quiet the mounting tattoo.

“I was telling the doctor about the water I painted,” Jonathan disclosed.

“Oh?”

“We didn’t dive too deep into it,” the doctor chuckled at himself. Once he regained his composure, he continued, “I was going to suggest to Jonathan that we might try painting again. Perhaps therein lies a key to the door of his memories.”

Jonathan couldn’t read the expression on Margaret’s face, when out from behind her temporary mask came the most angelic glow he had ever witnessed.

“Do you think?” She said eagerly. “Do you really think that painting might unlock some memories? I had an inkling, but I couldn’t be sure. You could be sure though. You’re a doctor. If only you could observe it happening, mayhap you would have some insight to share. Wouldn’t that be grand?”

“Just grand,” Jonathan teased.

“Oh shoosh.” Margaret casually swatted her hand in his direction. “Dr. Walker, do you think that if it works for Jonathan, painting might be beneficial to others in a similar condition? Perhaps offering a breakthrough for others?” Margaret had edged herself so close to the last inch of her seat, Jonathan wasn’t sure how she was sitting upright. It must be the sheer adrenaline in her legs holding her stable.

“I do believe with some observation, we could make some conjecture on the possibilities. It wouldn’t be pure speculation, but there is not much research in the way of amnesia, so any hypotheses are better than none at this point.”

Margaret clapped her hands together and pushed herself to the back of her seat. She proceeded to tap her index finger against her chin. “I wonder…” she murmured to herself.

Jonathan had never seen her so ebullient. Well, he had. But that was a different kind of happy.

“It is decided then. You must observe Jonathan. And we must paint. And then you must observe him some more to see if there are any changes. The more observation, the better!” Margaret’s grin was so contagious that Jonathan hadn’t comprehended what he was smiling about and agreeing to until he took a sip of tea.

If Dr. Walker was always around, when would henotbe?

Jonathan immediately began gathering all the data in his mind that would lend to him successfully foraying into Margaret’s bedchambers post daylight.

MARGARET’S EXCITEMENT WAS GUSHING out of her, reflecting on how her painting hobby might possibly give her the purpose she had been craving. If painting could potentially help sick patients, she would be more than willing to start a society offering this service. It could be The Society of Arts and Painting to Aid Mental Instability. Ok. The name needed work.

Jonathan might just be her muse.

And now she looked at Jonathan. My God. He had displayed the most lopsided grin earlier that had melted her heart. Now he sat more pensively, and she wanted to launch herself onto him. To hug him. To hold him. To squeeze the studious look off his face. She wanted to be as close to him as humanly possible. It wasn’t wanton. It wasn’t a burning between her legs. It was a burning and aching in her heart. It was…She shook her head. She didn’t know what it was.

But whatever it was, she wasn’t going to let it walk out the door and leave for three years.

“Dr. Walker, did Jonathan even offer you a chance to rest after your long journey? I fear he has been a terrible host.” She shook her finger at him and winked discreetly.

“I do say he is an excellent host, all things considered.” Dr. Walker chuckled, “But I am gaining in years, more than in pounds thankfully. And I believe I could use a rest.”

“I’ll have Bugsby see to a room for you.”

Margaret rang the bellpull and made arrangements for Dr. Walker to repose in a guest bedchamber.

The instant she was alone with Jonathan, she whirled around to him. A few paces away, he stood in front of his chair because she had risen to see Dr. Walker off. She watched him standing there clueless of her intentions, and she stalked over to him. Thrusting her finger at his chest, she pushed him down into his chair.

He plopped down and grinned up at her. His arms hung casually over the arms, and his legs were spread wide.

“Yes, Peaches?”

She tapped her finger against her chin. “Hmm…whatever shall I do with you?” as she stroked his body from groin to lips with her eyes.

He reached for her wrist, and she playfully pulled it away.

“No one’s here,” Jonathan asserted, trying to nab her other wrist but to no avail.

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