The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne by Natasha Blackthorne Page A

were prominent. The long fingers were gnarled.
    The sight of those hands sent a chill through James, though he couldn’t have said why. They were simply the hands of an older man.
    However the hands looked decidedly older than the man.
    “Now, what can I do for you, Lord Blayne?”
    “You can explain to me what is happening with Lady Blayne.”
    “Lady Blayne?” Dr. Meeker stared at James over the rims of his glasses, his dark brown gaze intense. “I presume you mean young Lady Blayne?”
    “Of course I do,” James said, his patience almost completely gone. “What’s all this talk about her being hysterical?”
    The doctor gazed back at him mildly, a slight twist in his lips sufficing as a smile. “You needn’t take offense, my lord. It is a medical diagnosis, not a personal condemnation of her character.”
    “All right, so it is a medical diagnosis and one that you have applied to the lady.”
    “Yes, she is suffering from hysteria. But we must focus on the cause, not the label given to the condition.”
    “What is the cause? Her husband’s death?”
    Dr. Meeker made a skeptical expression. “Her husband’s death certainly did not help, but I cannot believe it was the cause of her malady.” The older man drummed his fingers on his desktop. He raised his brows. “My lord, before I go any further, may I make a request?”
    “What request?”
    “Well, in order to fulfill your demand for information, I must disclose secrets that I normally would not. Things that could be very unhealthy for one man to say to another man about a lady, especially to a man who is, for all intents and purposes, her guardian.” He compressed his lips briefly. “Do you understand what I am saying, my lord?”
    “I understand.”
    “Lady Blayne is confused in her way of thinking. She was wed to a man who was not a fit husband. He was too ill to properly fulfill his duties in the marriage bed. This caused a lack of respect on her part and an unfortunate dependence on self-pleasuring.”
    “Self-pleasuring?” James gaped at the doctor. “May I remind you, doctor, you are speaking of a lady.”
    Dr. Meeker offered him a mild smile. “Indeed. But ladies are women, my lord.”
    James supposed that they were. But it was too much of a shock to think of Sunny and self-pleasure in the same sentence. Yet, the doctor had a point. Ladies were women. Some ladies were women, yes, of course, as James well knew from direct experience.
    But surely not Sunny!
    Then something else occurred to him. “Wait,” he said. ”How the devil did such a personal matter ever become known to you?”
    “Why, the lady herself confessed it. She was quite troubled by her inability to stop such unnatural behavior and the thoughts that accompanied it. She is a good person at heart. She knows what is a proper and healthy way of life for a lady. And she realizes her deficiency in her inability to comport herself as befits her station. But her deficiency remains unresolved. This is the sole cause of her current mental fragility.”
    James frowned. He had some difficulty putting the concept into words. He sat in the chair the doctor had offered earlier. “Mentally fragile? Because she self-pleasures?”
    “Quite so.”
    The doctor sounded so serious and the whole matter was so far from what James had expected to discuss with the man that he laughed. “Good God, doctor, if that were true, the whole of the Royal Navy would be stark raving mad.”
    “Ah, but those are men, are they not?”
    “Yes.”
    “Women are different. Especially gently reared ladies such as young Lady Blayne. They need a man’s authority and guidance. In the bedchamber most of all. Young Lady Blayne is ill, very ill, and she will continue to be so and thus prey to sensual weakness with men until I can redirect her focus of carnal authority from herself to a male authority where it more properly belongs.”
    James’ blood turned to ice. “And just how are you intending to do