Jean Beazley was rather proud of herself for convincing Dr. Blake to accompany her to church that Sunday. She wasn't the most devoted Catholic, but she did go to church almost every Sunday. Lucien had complained about her leaving him to his own devices on Sundays when he had no patients or cases to occupy him. So she had given him the choice to sit beside her in the pew for church or find something to do at home while he was gone. He had wisely chosen to join her for the service, even driving her in the car, to her delight.
He was doing his best to stay focused on the service, but as was expected for someone who had witnessed the horrors Lucien Blake had seen, he'd given up on God and religion long ago. He flipped pages in the prayer book, reading ahead during the priest's sermon. Though he did remember a number of the hymns from his youth, and Jean enjoyed hearing his lovely singing voice. She made a mental note to ask him to sing at the piano more often at home.
When the service finally ended, Jean told Lucien to wait outside. She wanted to speak to some of the ladies in her sewing circle, and there was no point in making him stand beside her, bored out of his mind. He slipped out of the church as swiftly as he could.
"Jean, I was surprised to see the doctor here with you," Mrs. Walker commented.
"Yes, he wanted to accompany me today," Jean replied simply. She knew that no matter what they did, Ballarat insisted on gossiping. Jean tried to hold back the tide as best she could, for both their sakes.
Jean got the information she needed from Emmaline Chester, then quickly excused herself. She knew Lucien was waiting.
But when she got outside, she saw him deep in conversation with Marjory Lain, a war widow like Jean herself. Jean didn't like the way Marjory was smiling and laughing with Lucien like that. Neither did she like how close together the two were standing.
Jean marched up to them and rudely interrupted, "Lucien, I promised Charlie lunch today, so I think it's high time we go home." She wrapped her arm securely around his.
Lucien patted her hand. "Of course, dear." He nodded to Marjory. "Mrs. Lain, it was lovely to see you. Best of luck with your pies." He and Jean walked away, though Jean did set a rather brisk pace.
She didn't let go of his arm until she got inside the car. She avoided eye contact when he got in and sat beside her.
"I wasn't aware we were in any rush," he commented. Jean just sat there, arms folded, head high and haughty. "Jean, you weren't…yes, you are! You're jealous!" he laughed.
She just glared at him. "I don't like the way Marjory Lain was throwing herself at you."
"She was not 'throwing herself' at me, Jean. I was waiting outside and she came to say hello. I treated her for an infection a few years ago, and she's recovered nicely. She was just telling me that she was going to enter a baking contest in Bendigo. That was all, I promise."
Jean furrowed her brow. "You are far too kind and handsome for your own good."
Lucien's eyes lit up. "Handsome?"
She pursed her lips and gave his arm a light slap. "Come on, drive us home."
He could tell she wanted to end the conversation, but he wasn't quite ready to give up the opportunity for her to shower him with praise. He started the car and casually noted, "You know, you're not the first woman to tell me I'm handsome."
Jean's gaze snapped to him.
Lucien just laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen you jealous before!"
"I've been jealous plenty of times. I just used to hide it better. I had no right to be jealous before."
"And now you do?"
"Yes, I think I do. If you can put your arm around me in that possessive way I hate whenever I'm speaking to another man, I can do the same when an overly-interested woman is flirting with you!"
Lucien held the steering wheel with one hand and reached the other over to rest gently on her knee. "You're my girl, Jean. You and no one else. And for a variety of reasons, I do occasionally have to speak to other women. But I hope you'll never worry."
Jean didn't answer, but she also didn't move his hand away. He let his fingers caress the fabric of her skirt, gently pulling it up to reach her stocking-covered thigh. She scooted closer to him in the car, resting her head on his shoulder as he drove, enjoying his light ministrations with a contented smile on her face.