Marrying Miss Hemingford Read Online Free Page A

oval face of classic proportions, narrow though determined chin, wide cheeks, broad brow, and lovely amber eyes full of tender concern. He held her look for several seconds, battling with his anger over the neglect of the child and his natural inclination to blame the woman who had brought her to him. She was obviously one of the fashionable set that had taken over Brighton, destroying the fishermen’s cottages to build their grand villas, relegating the poorer inhabitants to dismal tenements in the murky, malodorousback lanes. There was still a fishing trade in Brighton, but it was dwindling in the face of the onslaught of the rich who wanted service more than fish. On the other hand she had cared enough to soil her clothes and bring the child to him. ‘I beg your pardon for my error.’
    â€˜I was walking along the promenade when I saw her knocked down by a furiously driven curricle,’ Anne explained. ‘The driver was apparently unconcerned, for he did not stop. I was advised to bring her here.’ This explanation was given in a breathless voice, quite unlike her usual self-assured manner, though why he should have such a profound effect on her, she did not know. It was not like her to feel the need to justify her actions.
    â€˜It is as well you did.’ He straightened up and went to wash his hands in the bowl placed on a side table. ‘She might have bled to death.’
    The child began to whimper and Anne fell on her knees beside the bed and took her bony little hands in her own. ‘Don’t cry, little one. You are safe now.’
    â€˜Me ’ead hurts.’
    â€˜I know, dear. The doctor has given you a lovely white turban to make it better. What do you think of that?’
    â€˜Ma, where’s Ma? And Tom. Tom…’ She was becoming distressed and tried to rise.
    Anne pressed her gently back on the pillow. ‘Lie still, little one. We’ll fetch them for you.’ She looked up at the doctor who was washing his hands in a tin bowl. ‘Do you know who she is?’
    â€˜No, but undoubtedly someone will come looking for her.’ He knew he was being unfair, but he could not help contrasting the elegance of this woman with the povertyall around him. She was by no means plump, but she wasn’t half-starved as the child was. And she had never had to sit for hours in an uncomfortable waiting room to get treatment for an ailment that would soon be cured if the patient had wholesome food and clean surroundings.
    Anne stood up to face him. His abrupt manner was annoying her. She took a firm grip on herself. ‘How can you be so sure?’
    â€˜I am usually the first port of call in this district if anyone is injured or lost.’ He reached for a cloth to dry his hands. ‘Word gets around.’
    â€˜Are you going to keep her here?’
    â€˜I can’t. I have no beds for staying patients. I wish I had, I could fill them a hundred times a day. I shall have to send her to the infirmary unless someone comes quickly to claim her. You may have noticed I have a full waiting room.’
    â€˜What can I do to help?’
    He gave a wry smile. ‘I never turn down a donation, madam.’
    â€˜There is that, of course,’ she said, irritated by his manner. ‘But I was thinking of help on a practical level. I could go and look for her mother, if you could give me some idea of where she might be found.’
    This produced a chuckle. ‘I think that would be unwise.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜If my guess is correct, it is a slum. Filthy, unsanitary and stinking. You would ruin your fine clothes and heave up your breakfast, neither of which this child has nor ever has had.’
    â€˜Do you take me for a fool?’ she demanded, forbearing to point out that her coat was already ruined. ‘One look at that poor little mite is enough to tell me what kind of home she comes from. But that doesn’t make it any less of a home to