Daring Romance

Chapter 5

"What did he say after that?" Lady Helen Winterborne whispered across the tea table, her blue-gray eyes as round as silver florins. "What did you say?"

"I can't remember," Garrett confessed, amazed to feel her face heating up even now, three days later. "My mind turned to mush. It was so unexpected."

"Had you never seen a man . . . in that state?" Helen asked delicately.

Garrett gave her a sardonic glance. "I'm a former nurse as well as a physician. I daresay I've seen as many erections as a brothel madam." She frowned. "But never one that had anything to do with me."

Helen hastily crammed a linen napkin against her lips, muffling a laugh.

As was their weekly habit, they had met for lunch at the renowned tea room of Winterborne's department store. The tea room was a serene refuge from the heat and bustle of the day, a tall-ceiled, airy room decorated with frothy green potted palms, the walls lined with mosaics of blue, white, and gold tiles. The main floor was crowded with ladies and gentlemen clustered at the round tables. Each corner of the tea room featured an inset alcove where the table was set back enough to allow for private conversation. As Winterborne's wife, of course, Helen was always seated at one of the alcove tables.

Garrett had been friends with Helen ever since she'd been hired as one of Winterborne's staff physicians. She had quickly discovered that not only was Helen kind, sensible, and loyal, she could also be trusted to keep her mouth shut. They had a great deal in common, including a commitment to helping those less fortunate. In the past year, Helen had become the patroness of several charities benefitting women and children, and worked actively for reform causes.

Recently Helen had insisted that Garrett start attending some of the fundraising dinners and private concerts she and Winterborne hosted. "You can't work all the time," Helen had told her in a gentle but resolute tone. "Now and then you must spend an evening in the society of others."

"I'm in the company of people every day," Garrett had protested.

"At the clinic, yes. But I'm referring to a social evening, when you put on a nice dress, and make small talk, and perhaps even dance."

"You're not going to try matchmaking for me, are you?" Garrett had asked suspiciously.

Helen had given her a chiding smile. "There's no harm in making the acquaintance of a few unmarried gentlemen. You're not opposed to the idea of marriage, are you?"

"Not exactly. But I've never been able to see how my life could accommodate a husband. He couldn't be the sort of man who insisted that the household revolve around his needs, nor could he expect me to be a traditional wife. He would have to be as unconventional as I am. I'm not sure such a man exists." Garrett had shrugged and smiled wryly. "I don't mind being 'on the shelf,' as they say. It happens to be a very interesting shelf."

"If he's out there," Helen had told her, "you certainly won't find him by staying at home. You're coming to our next dinner, and that means we must have a new evening dress made up for you."

"I have an evening dress," Garrett had said, thinking of her sapphire brocade, which was a few years old but had worn like iron.

"I've seen it, and it's very . . . nice," Helen said, damning the garment with faint praise. "However, you need something more festive. And lower cut. No women our age wear high-necked evening gowns-those are only for young girls or dowagers."

Acknowledging that fashion was not necessarily her forte, Garrett had agreed to visit the store's in-house dressmaker, Mrs. Allenby, after tea with Helen today.