Free Darke London by Coleen Kwan Page A

she might say to him when he recovered, and her innocent fantasies helped to lift the tedium that was her daily rote.
    As the young man regained his strength and mental capacities, she spent even more time in his company. He seemed to find her presence soothing, and she was flattered by his attentions. They talked about poetry and literature—both subjects Nellie was not well-versed in, but she was more than happy to be instructed by him—and when he grew stronger they strolled around the blighted grounds of the asylum. In his company the decaying gardens became flourishing arbours, and the raw north winds were spring breezes. She fell in love, and to her utter amazement, her feelings were reciprocated.
    He loved her passionately, Phillip told her. She was his angel, his stalwart, his saviour. In the depths of his breakdown, it was she who had guided him back to sanity, she who had banished his torment and suffering. He could not live without her.
    Three weeks later she eloped with Phillip Ormond, and they ran off to London.
     
    Grimacing, Julian dusted some ash from his sleeves and tugged at the lapels of his frock coat. “From the sound of it, it was quite the whirlwind romance,” he said with more than a touch of acidity.
    Nellie laced her fingers together, uncertain of his mood. Where was the impassioned rescuer who’d gone to such lengths for her, who’d kissed her just a moment ago with searing intensity? As she gazed at him, she struggled to recall the features of the man she’d married in so much haste. Phillip, her husband, with his fair hair and cherubic looks, soft hands and impractical disposition. So different from the man standing aloof from her here. Julian was gypsy dark, vivid, rough at the edges, dynamic and…exciting.
    She bit down on her lip to punish herself. She should not be thinking such things, just as she should not have let Julian kiss her.
    “Yes, it was a whirlwind romance,” she agreed.
    But was it romance at all? She’d thought she was in love with Phillip, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. Cloistered away in the asylum, with a father dissipated and corrupted, she’d been naive and ripe for any kind of romance, and Phillip Ormond had been the first personable young man to cross her path. Of course she’d fallen in love with the idea of him, and of course she’d accepted his marriage proposal, dazzled that such a fine gentleman as he would wish to marry a humble doctor’s daughter.
    “Why did you elope?” Julian asked, his expression taut. “Surely your father couldn’t object to such an advantageous match?”
    Her father… Dear heaven, even now it was painful to recognise the degradation to which he’d sunk. Inhaling a deep breath, she answered steadily, “Unfortunately my father would not have seen it that way. He has become…rather partial to laudanum, and I took it upon myself to perform many of his duties. I knew he wouldn’t be happy at my leaving, for it would have been to his detriment.”
    Julian stared at her. “My God, an opium addict in charge of patients. Surely the board of governors would have found him out?”
    Yes, Mr. Crawley had discovered her father’s secret, at the same time as he’d begun to take an unhealthy interest in her. Mr. Crawley, one of the governors, was broad and stout, with foul breath and fingers like bunches of sausages. She’d found his manners unctuous and unpleasant, and always managed to slip out of his presence at the earliest moment. But one day he’d cornered her in a linen closet. With his pudgy fingers, he’d grabbed her thigh and, breathing sweatily over her, had advised her to be more friendly to him or he would have her father sacked. The odium of his advances was nothing compared to the shock she’d suffered when, having spilled out the awful incident to her father, her beloved parent had suggested she submit to Mr. Crawley’s overtures. That was when she knew she had to escape, and Pip’s proposal had offered a