Not Always a Saint by Mary Jo Putney Page B

is the school. It gets a little larger each year, but we won’t let it get so large that we can’t give each student as much personal attention as he needs.” She fixed him with a stern gaze. “Now explain to me how I sent you off to Oxford to train for holy orders, and now you’ve reappeared as the best surgeon in the West Country and a reluctant baron.”
    Startled and pleased, he asked, “How did you hear that?”
    Her smile was warm. “I keep track of all my boys.”
    Should he tell her the short version, or the longer one that had all the important parts? After a moment of considering, he said, “It’s a long story.”
    Her eyes twinkled. “Then you’d better get started.”
    Â 
    Â 
    When she saw him, Jessie barely managed to keep herself from bolting from the drawing room. Had Dr. Herbert recognized her? She didn’t see how it was possible. She looked nothing like the way she had when they’d first met. But the way he’d stared . . .
    She’d felt safe for years, but the old terror flared as quick and hot as ever despite the time that had passed, leaving her shaking. She’d known there was some danger in leaving her quiet life to move into society, but that danger had seemed remote. She hadn’t expected to run into someone who could connect her with her past.
    But her reasons for entering society and seeking a husband were as powerful as ever. It was too late to retreat.
    As they walked down the quiet corridor that led to the street, Mariah said, “You look tired. Did you meet any good prospects among the men who flocked around you? If so, I’ll see if I can arrange for you to meet him again in quieter circumstances.”
    â€œThere were one or two gentlemen with potential,” Jessie said, making her tone light. “But they tended to be crowded out by the young and randy. I hadn’t thought that wearing mourning would actually attract men.”
    â€œOnly those of the wrong sort,” Julia said. “The kind who believe that a widow is in dire need of their services. Men can be such beasts.” She slid a teasing glance at her husband, whose arm she held. “Present company excepted, of course.”
    â€œI’m gratified to hear that,” Randall said, his tone dry but his eyes glinting with amusement. Since Mariah’s husband, the Duke of Ashton, had been busy elsewhere, Randall was escorting all three ladies.
    â€œThank you for driving off the undesirables, Major Randall.” Jessie smiled a little. “One stern look from you and they faded away.”
    â€œAn advantage of a military past.” He grinned. “I’m enough of a male beast that I enjoyed the envious glances from other men at my good fortune in escorting three such beautiful ladies.”
    Would his stern stare drive off Dr. Herbert? She doubted it. In his way, the good doctor was as formidable as the army officer.
    Randall added, his tone apologetic, “You should probably know they’re calling you the Black Widow.”
    She bit her lip. “Thank you for warning me. That doesn’t sound very good.”
    â€œIt was said with interest and admiration, not condemnation,” Randall assured her.
    â€œA nickname earned so quickly means you’ve been accepted into London society,” Mariah said. “You may not have enjoyed the rout, but your dress and behavior were impeccable.” Her tone became ironic. “Now you are one of us. ”
    Jessie’s companions were a better recommendation than the most impeccable gown, but Mariah and Julia had brushed aside her thanks since they assured her they were having a wonderful time. She asked, “What is our next social engagement?”
    â€œDinner with the Kirklands,” Julia replied. “You’ll enjoy that. Lord Kirkland was a classmate of Ashton and Alex, and he’s inviting several Westerfield Academy graduates for a