Page 71 of The Formation of Us
He stopped by the beverage table and handed her a glass of punch. While she was quenching her thirst, a rugged-looking man with auburn hair and bushy sideburns spoke to Duke. “Taylor’s making a hard push this year, but he’ll have to sway a lot of voters to win the election, Sheriff. A big campaign don’t mean beans compared to your eight years of service.”
“Taylor’s a good man, Sam, and so are most of the other candidates. If the vote falls his way, I’ll support him.” Duke paused to introduce Faith to his deputy, Sam Wade, then turned back to his conversation.
“But you’re the man who keeps the ruffians and scalawags out of our county,” Sam said
While the men talked, Faith slipped a glass of wine off the table, angled her back to Duke, and poured it into her punch.
Another man joined the conversation and started the long line of introductions to Duke’s friends. Duke cast an apologetic look at her, as if he wanted to be with her but couldn’t neglect his supporters. Smiling away his concern, Faith finished her wine punch and discreetly made herself another. Only when his brothers stopped by with Evelyn, Claire, and Amelia did Faith feel a measure of comfort. But they were soon swallowed in a crowd of friends and neighbors who displayed enormous respect for the Graysons and for Duke as their sheriff.
Duke finally excused himself from his conversation and drew her away from the table where they’d been trapped for half an hour. Her glass was halfway to her mouth when he said, “Don’t drink too much of that wine. I have plans for later.”
Wine punch sloshed over the edge of her glass and dribbled down her knuckles, and a roguish grin tipped his mouth. “If we were alone I would lick that off your fingers,” he said quietly.
Her breath whooshed out. “You . . . you don’t miss anything, do you?”
“Maybe because I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
His attention thrilled and excited her, and filled her with guilt. He was better at flirting than she was, but he was baiting his own trap with every intimate innuendo. Because when he finally captured her, he would trap himself into marriage—and perhaps a lifetime of despising his wife.
Would he hate her if he found out the truth about her past? She couldn’t bear his hatred. Would it make a difference to him that she hadn’t been a prostitute?
Lord, she was in over her head. Why hadn’t she sought a man with less rigid values? Why did she have to choose one of the most respected men in town? But she hadn’t chosen him. He’d chosen her, and most of what she’d told him had been the truth. But everything she’d left unsaid was worse than a lie.
Her mind seesawed, arguing one way then the other until she admitted she couldn’t settle anything tonight. The wine was making her head light. All she could do was straighten her spine and play out the evening.
Minutes later, Duke escorted her inside the most opulent house she’d ever seen. Glittering chandeliers hung from the ceilings, velvet draperies dressed large windows and complemented the paisley and floral wallpaper. Plush carpets covered the floors, and a grand staircase climbed from a spacious foyer to a candlelit second-floor landing.
But it was massive golden oak hall tree, that snared her attention. The seven-foot beveled mirror reflected her image, allowing her to see the beauty of her dress, and the man at her side. They were a handsome, well-dressed couple, suited in looks, suited to the surroundings. Hope surged through her, and she met Duke’s questioning gaze in the mirror. Physically she could blend into his world. Maybe that would be enough. If she hid her fears, maybe no one would ever know she didn’t belong here.
The jaunty angle of her hat made her smile, and Faith silently thanked Iris for giving her a touch of attitude with which to face the evening.
They filled their plates at the buffet table, then found seats at a table on the porch. Faith nodded to their tablemate, Dr. Milton, the man who’d advised Duke to abstain from using his arm, then later came to her greenhouse to warn her not to prescribe harmful treatments to the women visiting her. She gave the snob a cordial nod, then turned to her supper.
Another man joined them, and Faith looked up to see Wayne Archer sit opposite Duke. She felt the tension inch higher. He nodded to Faith, then Duke.
“Archer,” Duke said, greeting the man with a brief nod before returning to his meal.
Lord save them. Not only Duke’s doctor to deal with, but Duke’s rival, and her nemesis, as well? Her appetite fled.
Dr. Milton laid his napkin over his partially eaten meal. “How is your Evergreen House coming along, Mrs. Wilkins?”
“Quite well, thank you.” She wasn’t offering the doctor or apothecary any information.
“Mrs. Guthrey has been raving about some sort of hot bath and massage you’re giving her,” Dr. Milton said. “She claims you’re restoring her health.”
“I’m sure you know that Mrs. Guthrey’s discomfort comes from working too hard. The bath eases her aches and gives her a chance to rest. The massage and balm soothe her muscles. The treatment would rejuvenate anybody with her ailment.”
“She claims you give her an herbal tea remedy and a balm to rub onto her skin. It distresses me to have an uneducated woman treating my patients. Are you not afraid of injuring someone with your concoctions?”
Duke set his fork on his plate, but Faith slid her foot over and tapped his. She could handle the doctor’s arrogance. She didn’t want Duke making enemies on her behalf.
“I know my herbs, doctor. It’s true I haven’t the benefit of your formal education, but I’ve read numerous medical texts like the pharmacopoeia, and studied anatomy, botany, herbal medicine, and Eastern healing techniques. The tea I give Mrs. Guthrey contains chamomile and willow bark to relax her and ease her pain. The balm is a topical treatment for the same purpose. Mrs. Guthrey is likely suffering pain in her gluteus maximus and biceps femoris muscles because of a pinched sciatic nerve.”
His eyebrows lifted before he could hide his surprise. “Impressive, Mrs. Wilkins, but what is causing this situation?”
“I suspect she twisted her hips and strained her back by doing work that’s too heavy and strenuous for her.”
“Reading a few books cannot compare to years of study and practice. I learned alongside a knowledgeable, well-respected doctor.”
