Keir was startled by the feeling of having already experienced this exact moment, as if he’d just fallen through a trapdoor connecting the present and the past. Instantly her face changed, her eyes widening. “You’re not even trying.”Įxasperated, Keir muttered, “I am trying, you wee bully.” Lady Merritt stood over him, shaking her head. “Start.”ĭutifully Keir inhaled and exhaled at her count.Ĭlick.Merritt assessed him like a drillmaster determined to train a raw recruit. “According to the book, lying flat helps to focus on the expansion and contraction of the abdomen while increasing the vertical capacity of the chest.” A decisive click of the watch. Pretend you’re blowing out a candle, then.” She held up the stopwatch, thumb poised over the crown stopper. “What do you do when you’re angry but can’t complain?” Like this.” Her mouth cinched into a round, plush shape, the sight throwing his brain into chaos … soft, tender, rose blossoms, cherries, sweet currant wine … he couldn’t help wondering how they would feel on his skin, stroking downward, parting as her sweet tongue flicked out to taste him. As you breathe out, control the air flow by pursing your lips. Inhale for four seconds, and exhale slowly for eight. She set the book aside and fiddled with the stopwatch. “It’s a special technique called diaphragmatic breathing.” “The belly is for filling with food, not air,” Keir said flatly. “You’re supposed to take in air from lower down, in the belly,” Merritt said, consulting The Thorax and Its Viscera: A Manual of Treatment, which Dr. The trousers were fluid and slightly loose, tailored to allow for greater ease of movement.
With the valet’s help, Keir had chosen a shirt made of Egyptian cotton with mother-of-pearl buttons, and a silk-lined waistcoat, stitched so the hem was perfectly smooth instead of curling upward.
The garments were finer than anything he’d worn in his life. Two sets of French doors opened to an outside balcony that ran almost the full length of the house.Įarlier, Culpepper had brought Keir a selection of spare clothes belonging to the duke’s two grown sons, Lord St. They were in an upstairs family parlor, a wide and spacious room divided into separate areas by groupings of furniture and potted palms. The breathing exercises, which had sounded simple in the beginning, had turned out to be unexpectedly challenging, mostly because Merritt seemed to want him to breathe in a way that was anatomically impossible. He felt more than a little foolish, not to mention frustrated. Merritt stood over him, a medical book in one hand and a stopwatch in the other, while Keir lay flat on his back. “Y OU’RE USING YOUR CHEST,” Merritt said later that day, glancing down at Keir as he reclined on a long, low couch.
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