Chapter Twenty-Three
Well, my lady, how have you fared with your new diet?” Andrew asked, coming into Lady Buton’s private sitting room.
She was sprawled on a gold damask sofa this time. Languidly, she raised a hand to Andrew, allowing him the pleasure of grasping her fingers. She might have intended for him to kiss it, but this was a professional visit, and he didn’t feel it appropriate. Instead he took her hand, turned it over, and pressed two fingers to her wrist, feeling her pulse.
A vision flashed before his eyes—Miss Hemshawe’s hand in that of the man he’d seen her speaking with on his way to this appointment. He wished he’d been able to see her expression better. He couldn’t tell if she had been looking up at the man with affection, or something else. All he’d seen was the man ta
