Doctor Raoul's Romance by Penelope Butler Read Free Book Online Page A

can’t imagine it. He only likes nurses in uniform. I think it’s just as well I shan’t see him tonight.”
    “Don’t be too sure of that!”
    Blanche had entered the room, in her usual unceremonious way.
    “Blanche!” cried Gillian. “You’re not going to wear those—those beach-pyjamas!”
    Blanche looked down at the scarlet silk.
    “They’re cocktail slacks, Gill. Don’t you think they look smart?”
    “No, I do not. If ever those things were in fashion, they went out in the twenties! For heaven’s sake, put on something pretty! ”
    Blanche seemed on the point of arguing. Adrien looked at her warningly. Then suddenly the girl gave way.
    “All right, I’ll be a good little girl. I’ll put on my white jersey silk. Dr. Dubois will probably like that better. I seem to remember he looked somewhat shocked at my shorts.”
    “Blanche,” said Gillian, “what is all this about Dr. Dubois? You don’t really mean he will be at the party this evening?”
    “Yes, I do,” said Blanche excitedly. For the moment, she had evidently forgotten her despair of the afternoon. “I was talking about him to Madame de Neuf. It seems they're old friends. She said she was going to ask him tonight. But of course, he may be too busy to come.”
    “Well, what of it?” Adrien asked herself, annoyed at a nervousness she hadn’t felt since her schooldays. “Why should I mind if he’s there? He won’t have any chance to criticize me today. He was casual himself about his patient.”
    Nevertheless, she was conscious of her heart beating with apprehension when, with a meek, lily-white Blanche following her, she entered the salon of the chateau. While greeting Madame de Neuf, and thanking her for her kind invitation, she saw Raoul Dubois seated at the grand piano.
    “Mademoiselle,” he said, “this is a pleasure,” and raised her hand and kissed it on the back. “I hope you don’t mind music. When I see a piano it is hard to drag me away.” He sat down again and began to play. Adrien recognized the sweet, nostalgic melody of Clair de Lune.
    She was astonished by his excellent playing. Who would have expected this of him? Against her will, she found herself drawing nearer to the piano, until she was almost touching him.
    The other guests had split up into couples and groups and were strolling about the large, beautiful room, gossiping, smoking, helping themselves from the little buffet. There was a relaxed and friendly air of gaiety. Adrien could understand why Blanche had said that people nearly always enjoyed Madame de Neufs informal parties.
    Blanche herself had wandered over to the window. Despite her protestations that she did not care for him a great deal, she was evidently watching for Pierre, who had not yet arrived.
    “But what am I doing here?” Adrien asked herself, confused, and furious with herself because she was by no means accustomed to this sort of feeling. “Here, by the piano, with Dr. Dubois. Whatever will he think?”
    She looked about the room, rather wildly, seeking a means of escape. But it was difficult. There was no one near to whom she could turn and speak casually. It would look terribly obvious just to turn and walk away; better to speak.
    “What a beautiful piece that is! I love Debussy.”
    “Do you, Nurse Grey?” He looked at her quizzically. She felt as if he had touched her physically, so sharp was his glance.
    She felt herself go hot all over, and to her annoyance, knew that her cheeks were pink. Why did he affect her this way, making her blush like a schoolgirl? It was ridiculous.
    His fingers were touching the notes, gently, modulating. “Do you like this? Schubert’s Serenade ?”
    She couldn’t help relaxing in the warm glow of the strangely stirring music. This music always made her think for some reason of a boat out at sea, and a mandoline, and a row of little twinkling lights shining from the shore.
    The music died away and she started. “That was beautiful. Thank you,