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

Dr. Dubois.” For the first time, she found she could speak to him naturally, without either antagonism or embarrassment.
    He said quietly, “Nurse Grey—cannot we be friends, you and I?”
    “Why yes, of course. I don’t understand.”
    “I think you do. I like you, Nurse Grey. We are going to work together, you and I, so I thought I would tell you that. I had a feeling that you thought I was unfriendly to you, prejudiced against you for some reason. I just wanted you to know that wasn’t so. I hope that now you will cease to feel antagonistic toward me.”
    “Doctor, I—”
    “Let’s leave it at that, shall we? And let’s forget our patient for one night, if that is possible.”
    He smiled now, the little hollow deepening at the corner of his mouth. Adrien smiled back. She couldn’t help it. And after all, why not? He was right. It was better to be friendly with a doctor you worked with, especially in a case like this. And she couldn’t deny his charm.
    “Will you have a glass of wine, mademoiselle? And then I have an idea that Madame de Neuf is going to make us dance to the phonogram. Will you excuse my fumbling steps?”
    Actually, he danced very well. Adrien was surprised to find herself waltzing dreamily in his arms.
    But suddenly she noticed her hostess watching her very enigmatically. Surely that wasn’t jealousy in the dark eyes? She smiled inwardly, a little bitterly.
    “You don’t need to worry, Denise de Neuf. He’s much nicer than I thought he was. I have to admit that. But he doesn’t mean a thing to me. I’m in love with Nicholas ... always ... ”
    “Another glass of cognac? Do, Raoul.”
    Raoul Dubois laughed up at his hostess, admiring the gleam of her auburn hair in the soft, shaded light, and her white shoulders shining against her black shealthlike dress. A diamond on a velvet band around her neck sparkled in a quick prism of colors as she flung herself quickly and gracefully on a cushion at his feet.
    Raoul lounged back in his chair.
    “What are you trying to do to me?” he asked. “Soon I shan’t be in a fit state for driving.”
    “You’ve got a head for anything, ch é ri. I’ve never known you intoxicated.”
    “Denise, my darling, how can you say that? You know I am always intoxicated in your presence.”
    “Don’t tease!” She rose and perched on his knee, her face puckered like a child’s. She knew that, despite her thirty years, she was still able to pout charmingly. “Raoul, why can’t you ever be serious with me? Is it because we have known each other so long?”
    “Life is serious enough, darling. Let us be happy, when we can.”
    Her face brightened.
    “ ‘ Cuei ll ez , des aujourd’ h ui, les roses de la vie! ’ Darling, why don’t we get married?”
    He laughed. “Cherie —what will you say next?”
    “I’m serious, Raoul.” She got up and stood, just out of his reach, swaying slightly, provocative and tantalizing. “We thought of it once—at least, our parents did. ”
    “And you disobeyed them, and eloped with Georges de Neuf.”
    She sighed, not without pleasure.
    “So you still hold that against me? You are still jealous of poor Georges, although he is dead?”
    “My darling, of course I don’t hold it against you. How can you blame a woman for following her heart?”
    “But I didn’t follow my heart. Not really. But you were so exasperating. So immersed in your work. You took me so for granted, Raoul. I was there to be kissed when you felt like it. The rest of the time you forgot me. And Georges was ardent and eager and swore he loved me. And I thought I loved him. It was only after we were married that I realized my heart was yours. He was unfaithful to me, Raoul, you know that. And now he has died and I have been a widow three years. A widow with three small children. It is lonely, Raoul.”
    He got up from his chair, put his hands one on each side of her neck and looked down into her eyes.
    “Denise ... Denise, chérie . I—”