Page 110 of Tremaine's True Love
“He’s quite knowledgeable,” Nita said. “Also kind. When I can’t find a reference in English to a disease or herbal remedy, he often has something in his library.”
Fortunately, the estimable Lord Fairly was happily married, else Tremaine might have questioned his generous literary motives.
“Fairly spent his early childhood in Scotland and returned there for some of his medical training. He’s skilled as both a surgeon and a physician, unlike your Dr. Horton.”
Nita shifted, so she straddled Tremaine’s lap. “Can you be comfortable like this?”
No, he couldnot.“Cuddle up, love. My leg is fine and I’ve missed you.”
She settled closer, and Tremaine forgot what he’d been bleating about—ah, the ever-helpful Lord Fairly. “I asked Fairly to find us a pair of physicians to open up a practice here in Haddondale. At least one of them must be young and recently educated. The other can be older, provided his training exceeds the theoretical foundation given to most English physicians. Will you interview these fellows, put them through their paces?”
Nita kissed him. “I love you. We need a good midwife too.”
Apology accepted, apparently—proposal as well—and she’d anticipated Tremaine’s very next point.
“Consider it done, madam. You will interview her too.”
Nita tucked herself agreeably closer, such that Tremaine endured a throbbing of the blood in a location other than his wound.
“If only you could find a replacement for Vicar. He delights in carping about a woman’s pain being her just deserts for leading Adam astray. Makes me wonder about the gout he complains of at such length.”
Tremaine saved puzzling over the theology of gout for some other day. “Your brother mentioned Vicar’s increasing age to Fairly, and I heard them discussing an in-law of Fairly’s as a possible replacement. Nita, you do know that under this dressing gown, I’m wearing nothing but a nightshirt?”
She sat up. “You’re injured, Tremaine. You mustn’t overdo.”
At least she was crestfallen to deliver that opinion. “I must contradict you. Lord Fairly was clear that I should resume normal activities as soon as possible, allowing pain to inform my choices. I’m in pain, Nita. Will you, please, relieve my distress yet again?”
“We’ll marry, won’t we, Tremaine?” She unbelted his robe as she put the question to him. “I’ve been a touch queasy in the last day or two, which makes no sense, but I do want to marry you. I’m done battling contagion, Tremaine. Let your physicians duel with that reprobate. I’ll attend the occasional lying-in, I’m sure, and I can always be counted on to deal with injuries—my goodness.”
A part of Tremaine was showing off its exuberant good health and high spirits.
“I’ve missed you,” he said again. “Might I hope you’ve missed me?”
“Desperately,” Nita said, rising and locking the door. “Do you still have that special license?”
“I assuredly do,” Tremaine said as Nita resumed her place on his lap, and he got to work on the drawstring of her bodice. “We’ll find a property nearby, and—”
Nita kissed him to silence and then to bliss upon bliss and then to a lovely, sleepy embrace, during which Tremaine considered names for their firstborn, when in the past, he might have counted sheep.
EPILOGUE
“The greatest plague ever to bedevil mortal man,” Tremaine said, “the greatest threat to his peace, the most fiendish source of undeserved humility ishis brother-in-law, and titled brothers-in-law are the worst of a bad lot.”
Tremaine’s boots thumped across the carpet of Belle Maison’s library, his pace, to Nita’s ear, solid and even, though only weeks ago he’d been brought to bed with a bullet wound.
“Nicholas frets,” she said. “It’s his nature. He can’t help it, and marriage and fatherhood have made him worse.”
Impending fatherhood had made Tremaine worse too—also better, at least in terms of tenderness, quiet kisses, caresses, and the pace with which he pursued his commercial activities.
“But why did Bellefonte muster the entire regiment to see us off?” Tremaine sounded Scottish all the time now. “One likes a bit of dignity about one’s leave-takings.”
He marched to a halt before a tall window and held out a hand to Nita. “Finally, the last of the recruits arrives.”
“The Holland bulbs along the south-facing garden wall are sprouting” Nita said. A woman in anticipation of motherhood appreciated new life in all its brave splendor. She leaned into her husband, wondering how she’d ever managed, how she’d endured, without his love to sustain her.
“Are you certain you want to take this journey with me?” he asked, tucking her against his side. “I’ve wondered how my households ever functioned, how I managed, without you to take matters in hand.”
This happened frequently—their thoughts ran in tandem, much as Tremaine slept in tandem with her.
