Read Online A Lady's Guide to Skirting Scandal by Kelly Bowen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelly Bowen
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difference—in someone else’s life.
And for now, she was holding on to that tiny kernel of accomplishment, holding it tight within her like a treasured jewel.
“Are you even listening?” Bart demanded, snapping Viola out of her thoughts.
“Of course,” she lied.
“This cannot be allowed to happen again,” the Post chimed in. “It will not happen again.”
“It?” Viola asked distractedly. Really, if they would just say whatever they needed to say and be done with it.
“You weren’t listening,” Bart accused, sniffing loudly.
Viola gazed at her impassively, not bothering to argue the truth.
“I was referring to your overfamiliarity with Mr. Shaw. He is a mere surgeon, my lady. Not someone you should be overfamiliar with unless you are in grave danger of dying.” Her jowls shook in righteous indignation. “He is not good enough for you, my lady.”
“Mr. Shaw is a better man than any I have ever met,” Viola snapped. It was one thing for these two to insult her own person. It was something else entirely for them to turn their disparaging remarks on Nathaniel.
Bart and the Post exchanged a meaningful look and then launched into another harangue. Viola endured it, distracted and subdued. Eventually her keepers ordered her back to her own cabin and shut the door behind her, turning the key in the lock.
“It’s for your own good, my lady,” Bart said through the door. “You need to consider what others might think of you if you don’t more carefully mind your actions in the future. The earl would be most disappointed if we did not do our duty and remind you of this.”
Viola sighed wearily and moved to her berth. She lay down, stretching her fingers under her pillow, and stopped abruptly as they came into contact with something solid. Viola sat up, pulling the object out onto her woolen blanket. It was the leather-bound anatomy book, a strip of paper marking a page. Nate must have slipped into her cabin and left it for her. An ache lodged in the back of Viola’s throat as she opened the book and pulled the paper from the page. The paper was covered with a familiar handwriting, and she turned it over.
I thought you might want to look at this in case you have some extra time on your hands tonight , it read. You’ll be able to appreciate in greater detail exactly the manner of your patient’s injury. Viola glanced down, seeing that the page Nate had marked was a cross section of the human hand, set alongside a drawing of its bones.
She cleared her throat ineffectively and continued reading. I have not had a better assistant nor a better student. You were… There was a messy blob of ink as though he had left his pen on the surface too long in search of a word. Viola’s eyes dropped down to the last line.
Extraordinary.
The page blurred before her eyes.
She’d never been extraordinary. At anything. Certainly nothing that mattered.
Viola sniffed loudly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. A thousand compliments she’d received from gentlemen about her hair, her eyes, her dress, her gown, and not one of them had meant anything. This one meant everything.
Viola sat with her hands on the page before she pushed herself to her feet, making her way over to the tiny table in the corner of her cabin. She placed the book on the surface, then fetched paper and ink.
She had some studying to do.
* * *
She must have fallen asleep at the table, for when she woke, darkness had fallen, and her back and neck were stiff and complaining. She lifted her head from where it had come to rest next to the anatomy text, and straightened with a slight groan. She squinted at the lantern hanging near her berth, and it was a good few seconds before her sluggish brain processed that someone had lit it. And that someone had brought a plate of food and what looked like a bottle of wine.
And that that someone was sitting on the edge of her berth, reading. He was dressed in his shirtsleeves again, the
And for now, she was holding on to that tiny kernel of accomplishment, holding it tight within her like a treasured jewel.
“Are you even listening?” Bart demanded, snapping Viola out of her thoughts.
“Of course,” she lied.
“This cannot be allowed to happen again,” the Post chimed in. “It will not happen again.”
“It?” Viola asked distractedly. Really, if they would just say whatever they needed to say and be done with it.
“You weren’t listening,” Bart accused, sniffing loudly.
Viola gazed at her impassively, not bothering to argue the truth.
“I was referring to your overfamiliarity with Mr. Shaw. He is a mere surgeon, my lady. Not someone you should be overfamiliar with unless you are in grave danger of dying.” Her jowls shook in righteous indignation. “He is not good enough for you, my lady.”
“Mr. Shaw is a better man than any I have ever met,” Viola snapped. It was one thing for these two to insult her own person. It was something else entirely for them to turn their disparaging remarks on Nathaniel.
Bart and the Post exchanged a meaningful look and then launched into another harangue. Viola endured it, distracted and subdued. Eventually her keepers ordered her back to her own cabin and shut the door behind her, turning the key in the lock.
“It’s for your own good, my lady,” Bart said through the door. “You need to consider what others might think of you if you don’t more carefully mind your actions in the future. The earl would be most disappointed if we did not do our duty and remind you of this.”
Viola sighed wearily and moved to her berth. She lay down, stretching her fingers under her pillow, and stopped abruptly as they came into contact with something solid. Viola sat up, pulling the object out onto her woolen blanket. It was the leather-bound anatomy book, a strip of paper marking a page. Nate must have slipped into her cabin and left it for her. An ache lodged in the back of Viola’s throat as she opened the book and pulled the paper from the page. The paper was covered with a familiar handwriting, and she turned it over.
I thought you might want to look at this in case you have some extra time on your hands tonight , it read. You’ll be able to appreciate in greater detail exactly the manner of your patient’s injury. Viola glanced down, seeing that the page Nate had marked was a cross section of the human hand, set alongside a drawing of its bones.
She cleared her throat ineffectively and continued reading. I have not had a better assistant nor a better student. You were… There was a messy blob of ink as though he had left his pen on the surface too long in search of a word. Viola’s eyes dropped down to the last line.
Extraordinary.
The page blurred before her eyes.
She’d never been extraordinary. At anything. Certainly nothing that mattered.
Viola sniffed loudly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. A thousand compliments she’d received from gentlemen about her hair, her eyes, her dress, her gown, and not one of them had meant anything. This one meant everything.
Viola sat with her hands on the page before she pushed herself to her feet, making her way over to the tiny table in the corner of her cabin. She placed the book on the surface, then fetched paper and ink.
She had some studying to do.
* * *
She must have fallen asleep at the table, for when she woke, darkness had fallen, and her back and neck were stiff and complaining. She lifted her head from where it had come to rest next to the anatomy text, and straightened with a slight groan. She squinted at the lantern hanging near her berth, and it was a good few seconds before her sluggish brain processed that someone had lit it. And that someone had brought a plate of food and what looked like a bottle of wine.
And that that someone was sitting on the edge of her berth, reading. He was dressed in his shirtsleeves again, the
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