Page 22 of Love with a Notorious Rake

Later, once tea then dinner had concluded and he’d spoken to Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Teague, Aidan entered his suite of rooms. He marveled at the cleanliness—not an item out of place, and in the exact condition he’d left it last year, as if waiting for his return. Aidan tore off the layers of clothes, tossing them to the divan. Naked, he sat on the floor facing the end of his bed. Hooking his feet under the iron rungs of the footboard and clasping his hands behind his head, he began his regimen of one hundred sit-ups. After this, he would do one hundred floor presses.

He’d been introduced to this routine a couple of years past, in his boxing phase. The trainer at the club stated the ancient Romans used to do a version of these particular exercises, which the trainer referred to as calisthenics. The physical exertion kept disquiet from his soul, and allowed him to focus on something other than haunting memories.

It also kept him focused on his goal. Recovery. Rebirth. Redemption. Not to mention it aided in building up his strength, muscle, and stamina, which had been sadly lacking. His brother was right; he was far too thin. He moved quicker, and sweat popped out on his forehead from the effort.

Banish the demons. Keep temptation at bay.

And, more importantly, try to forget Cristyn. She invaded his erotic dreams. He could not shake the memory of her. At times, he swore he caught the scent of violets. She haunted his every step. No woman had ever affected him to this extent—she was yet another addiction to overcome. Or perhaps she wasn’t. Perhaps she was more. Best to put it out of his mind. Putting her out of his heart, however, would require greater effort.

* * * *

It was well into June before Cristyn decided to speak to her father about her plan to pursue nursing. She’d broached the subject once more with Cyn and Davidson, and they’d agreed that any place but London would be a better choice. Davidson had attended university there and painted a rather grim picture of dirty streets, foul air, rude people, and expensive lodgings. With the city out of the question, perhaps a smaller town or village would suffice. It was what she was used to.

There was no time like the present to raise the topic. “Dad, since a recent medical graduate from Oxford will be here by the end of the month, I thought I might look for work elsewhere.”

Her father dropped his fork in shock, and pieces of beef and vegetable smothered in gravy bounced across the tablecloth, leaving a greasy stain. “What?”

“The training program that Mr. Garrett Black, Aidan’s wealthy uncle, is funding? Young doctors will be learning your methods of addiction treatment. You will have a young man arrive here with another in August. You no longer need me to act as your assistant. I would rather not be relegated to the position of head maid.” Cristyn dabbed the corner of her mouth and laid the napkin on the table. “I have learned much from you, and I wish to put it into practice in front-line medical situations. At first, I thought London—”

Her father’s eyes widened. “No, Cristyn.”

She held up her hand. “I’ve already ruled it out. There is no formal training for nursing, and if I applied for a position at a hospital there, I would be treated no better than a servant. There is nothing wrong with being a maid, but that is not what you’ve trained me for. I know as much or more than any apothecary offering medical care to the lower classes. Perhaps more than a surgeon treating those who can afford to pay to have a broken bone set.” Cristyn exhaled.

“Yes, you are highly knowledgeable.”

“But it is not enough to have it recognized by anyone other than my father. Women are not welcome in the medical field, or even allowed to train and study formally at an accredited university. It’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t. But here at the sanatorium you will receive the respect that you deserve. Regardless of who comes here to train, I would never relegate you to a subservient position. You’re my assistant, and that will not change. Not as long as I run this facility. And if these young men can’t accept it, they can return from whence they came.”

Her father’s passionately spoken words of support touched her heart. “I do appreciate it, Dad. Truly. But as I said, I wish to put my skills to practical use.”

“We treat the villagers for various maladies,” her father replied.

“Yes, lancing a boil or pulling an infected tooth. I’m speaking of those in true need, those too poor to pay for medical care. Surely there must be a place my experience and learning can be put to good use. Besides London or any other large city.”

“You’re serious about this.”

She nodded. “Yes. Completely.”

“Is there more to it? Is it because of Aidan Black?”

Her father knew her well. “Perhaps a little.”

He cocked a dubious eyebrow at her.

“All right, perhaps more than a little,” she whispered softly.

Her father’s eyes widened. “Dear God, you’re in love with him.”

“I don’t want to be.”

“Damn the man. I am sorry I ever allowed him to stay here,” her father snapped irritably. “How dare he hurt you.”

“I hadn’t meant for it to happen. He did nothing to encourage my feelings. The blame can hardly be laid at his feet.”

Her father patted her hand. “The heart is a tricky thing; it rarely listens to common sense. If you feel strongly about it, I won’t stand in your way.” He frowned, as if puzzling out the dilemma. “There is a possibility with a friend of mine from university. He attended with Elwyn and me. His name is Dr. Paris Middlemiss. He’s around forty-eight years of age, and a confirmed bachelor.”

Cristyn’s mood brightened. “What else can you tell me about him?”