Apparently not. She was pink-cheeked, as if she’d just got out of the shower, and Nell had changed out of her travelling clothes and into a slim pair of dark blue trousers with a white shirt, open at the neck and buttoned at the cuffs. She looked businesslike and entirely delicious.
He shifted, wishing that the ache in his left shoulder would go away, and Nell stepped forward. Without any warning at all, she caught up one of the cushions from the sofa and bent over him.
Her scent was... It was just soap. The soap that was placed in all the guest bathrooms at the palace. But Nell made it smell intoxicating. The brush of her hair, one soft curl against his cheek, almost paralysed him.
‘Is that a little better?’ She’d placed the cushion carefully under his left arm so that it supported his shoulder.
‘Yes. A lot better, thank you.’
Nell nodded, looking around the room as if she’d mislaid something. ‘Does your apartment have a kitchen? Or do you have to send out for tea?’
‘The kitchen’s through there.’ The desire to stay where he was battled with a strong disinclination to have her make tea for him. Hugo shifted, ready for the effort of standing up, and she reached forward, her hand on his right shoulder.
‘I didn’t go to all the trouble of arranging cushions for you to spoil it all by making the tea. Stay there.’ Her voice was kindly but firm. It occurred to Hugo that if he didn’t feel so tired he might have delighted in having Nell be kind and firm with him all afternoon, and then he reminded himself that business and pleasure was a very bad mix.
He heard her clattering around in the kitchen and closed his eyes. Listening to Nell was almost as good as watching her, because he could still see her in his mind’s eye. That was another thing that was going to have to stop.
* * *
Nell found a set of mugs in the kitchen cupboard. It was a surprise, since she’d expected that a prince would drink only out of bone china, but a good one. She’d been up very early this morning and could definitely do with a decent-sized cup of tea.
She looked in the cupboard for biscuits and found a packet of chocolate digestives. Things were definitely looking up. Next to them was a packet of painkillers, wrapped around with a piece of paper with a typed chart, each dose ticked off neatly. Hugo had taken this morning’s tablets but was past due for the lunchtime ones.
He was clearly overdoing things. And her letter of appointment had spelled out exactly what she was supposed to do in response to that likely eventuality. She had to make sure that he took the rest he needed.
She put the tea things on a tray and walked quietly into the sitting room. Large and filled with light, the furniture was stylish but comfortable, allowing the baroque fireplace and the gilded mirror above it to take precedence. Hugo seemed to be dozing, but when she put the tray down, moving a small side table next to his chair, he opened his eyes.
‘This is...quite unnecessary.’ He seemed quite devoted to the idea that there was nothing wrong with him.
‘And these?’ She raised an eyebrow, putting a glass of water and his tablets down next to him. ‘Pain’s generally the body’s way of hinting that you should slow down a bit.’
‘I thought I’d take them when I got back.’ He seemed to be watching her every move as he downed the tablets in one, then took some sips of water. ‘Please. Sit down. We really must talk.’
It was almost a relief. It seemed that Hugo wanted to make their relationship clear as much as she did, and it was a grey area that Nell was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with. She put his tea on the table next to him and sat down on the sofa, reaching for her cup.
‘The first thing I need to say is that your job here is strictly confidential.’ Nell took a breath to protest that she knew all about doctor-patient confidentiality and he silenced her with a flash of his green eyes. ‘More so than usual. I don’t want anyone to know what your role is here or that I’m your patient.’
Nell felt her heart beat a little faster. ‘Is there a reason for that?’
‘Yes, there is. A very good reason.’
‘I’d like to know what that reason is, please.’ She injected as much firmness into her voice as she could.
Hugo smiled suddenly. If he was unused to anyone questioning his decisions, it didn’t seem to bother him all that much. ‘I imagine you’ve done your homework and that you know I’ve been working very hard in the last few years to raise awareness about heart disease and promote early treatment.’
‘I know that you’re the patron of a charity that has done a lot of work in the field...’ How much work Hugo had personally done hadn’t been made clear in the article she’d read.
For a moment, it seemed that finally she’d managed to offend him. And then he smiled. ‘I’m a doctor and it’s my mission. You have a mission?’
‘Yes. I suppose I do.’
‘Then you’ll understand the compelling nature of it. Weakness on my part can only undermine the message I’m trying to give.’
Nell swallowed hard, trying to clear the rapidly growing lump in her throat. ‘Or...it might be seen as a strength. That you understand...’
‘My job is to make things happen. And I’ll freely admit that I’m a prime example of someone who hasn’t followed the most basic advice and sought help at the first signs of any problem with my heart. Which is inexcusable, since I have a very clear understanding of what those signs are.’
So he couldn’t allow himself this. In Hugo’s mind, his illness gave him feet of clay. Nell might disagree, but it was his decision.
‘What you choose to share about your own medical issues is entirely up to you. Of course, I’ll say nothing.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you. I see from your CV that you’ve taken an interest in the psychological aspects of recovery from heart disease.’
Something about his tone gave Nell the impression that this irritated him. ‘Yes, that’s right. I did a module on the psychology of recovery at medical school, and when I decided to specialise in cardiac medicine, it seemed very relevant. I co-authored a study on patients’ post-operative experiences, in partnership with doctors from five other hospitals.’
‘I’d be interested in reading it.’ He turned the corners of his mouth down, and Nell felt her muscles in her stomach twist. Maybe he’d decided that questioning whether he needed a doctor wasn’t enough, and that he’d take a leaf from her ex-boss’s book and undermine her by questioning her professional ability.
She stared at him, wordlessly, and Hugo smiled suddenly. ‘I’d be interested to know which category of patient I fall into.’
That charm again. That smile, which seemed calculated to make Nell’s head spin and throw her off guard. ‘Psychology isn’t a matter of putting people into boxes, it’s a way of understanding what’s there. I’m sure you know that already.’
Perhaps she should mention that understanding exactly why Hugo was so desperate to pretend that there was nothing wrong with him would be a good start
