Page 43 of Her Heartless Duke
The doctor shook his head with a slight laugh. “You must forgive my disbelief, but I just could not imagine you being particularly interested in dancing. You certainly did not mention it in your letters.”
“I have taken it up just recently,” Isaac admitted. “Someone somehow managed to convince me that it would benefit me somewhat.”
That was a lot ofsomesfor one sentence, but the kindly Frenchman merely smiled in that gentle way of his.
“Well, I must give credit to this someone, then,” the doctor nodded sagely. “Exercise is not only good for the body, but also for the mind. Thissomeonegives very good advice.”
Isaac smiled a little at that. Olivia had not exactlyadvisedhim on the matter—she had bribed him into becoming her dance tutor, something he never thought of becoming in all his years of existence.
The doctor accepted a glass of wine from him. “Seeing you in such good spirits, I feel much better about returning home.”
Isaac stiffened. “You are going back to France?”
“Oui,” Doctor Pierre nodded with a soft smile. “I have traveled extensively and gained much knowledge through the years. Now, I miss Provence and her beauty. My community, they also have need of a physician there. It is not perhaps too late to return home.”
Isaac could not argue with his friend on that one—there was a certain nostalgia one felt for one’s homeland. In his days at the Peninsula, thoughts of home had buoyed him through the hardest times. It was understandable for Doctor Pierre to want to return home after all his years abroad.
“I shall miss your company,mon ami,” he told him softly.
The old doctor laughed. “You have your young friends, Your Grace. Go out and enjoy your youth with them. There will be time enough for conversations with this old man.” He raised his glass at him. “As long as there is fine wine, of course.”
“But none of them could ever…” he trailed off as a haunted look came over his eyes.
None of them could ever understand the horrors I went through—only another soldier can.
Doctor Pierre, although he had been on the opposite side of the battlefield, had been committed to saving lives instead of snuffing them out. For that, Isaac had immense respect for the man. Even in the face of a horrific war, the old man had managed to keep not only his sanity intact, but his values and principles as well.
“There are things that you can share only with me and I understand that,” the older man acknowledged with a smile. “But, Your Grace, you have your own life to live and I hope that someday, someone will help you see that there is beauty beyond the horrors we have witnessed." He paused and with a twinkle in his eyes added, “Somewhat."
The old doctor was teasing him, as he was wont to do, and while Isaac rarely tolerated such things, he had a high degree of respect for the man before him. He did not merely see Doctor Pierre as a friend, but more as family. Like some kindly grandfather who popped up whenever he could for a bit of red wine and conversation.
Now, there would be even less of that, with Doctor Pierre heading back to France.
“Just let me know what you need and I shall have everything settled for your journey back home,” he told the older man. “All my resources are at your disposal,mon ami.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” Doctor Pierre looked almost affronted. “I shall not take any of your money, old friend. I owe you my life and I have never forgotten that.”
“What do you mean you owe me your life?” Isaac laughed harshly. “I was blinded in battle when you saved me.”
The Frenchman shook his gray head. “Your friendship is already more than enough. There are very few of us who can claim a connection to the Duke of Langley, after all. No, no, no—I shall not take money from my friends.”
“But friends help each other, too,” Isaac countered smoothly.
“You are a very persistent young man,” the doctor laughed, shaking his finger at him. “Keep your money for now and if I do need help, you shall be the first one I contact.”
“Make sure you do,” Isaac warned him. “Although, I hope it never comes to that again.”
“Oui!Now, let us drink to that.” He raised his glass and tipped back the rest of his wine. “To friendship!”
“To friendship.” Isaac did the same, but with much less exuberance than Doctor Pierre did.
The two of them drank a little bit more, talked a little bit more. On occasion, they would briefly touch on the subject of war and the friends they had lost. They were more than halfway past the bottle when Isaac brought up something that had been bothering him for the past week.
“Mon ami, have you ever seen a person go pale and collapse several times?” Isaac suddenly asked him.
“Several times?”
He nodded. “Twice that I know of.”