“No one can hold a grudge as well as Great Aunt Maureen.” Jess grasped the man’s soiled stub as Ashleigh unwrapped the new amputee’s old dressing, the fresh scent of blood a commonly sad occurrence with these young men. Moans created background noise. “She hasn’t spoken a word to me since I degraded the family by serving at the front. Saving wounded and dying men isn’t proper for a woman of my pedigree.” Jess’s wink added some levity. “I’ve probably lost what little money she planned for my inheritance.” She placed a palm to her chest and feigned a frown. “What a disappointment.”
“Do you think she suspects the…intimacy of Catherine’s behavior? It could ruin our family even more.”
“Or Catherine’s grand designs,” Jess added, blond brow lifted. “But it wouldn’t be all that flattering for the Cavanaughs either. Catherine doesn’t meet family status, even with the pedigree, remember.”
“Then why would Drew make the effort if he had no intention of marrying her? What could he possibly gain?”
Jess’s expression answered the question.
“And Catherine is desperate enough to—”
“Do anything?” Jess finished. “Seems so, but money or status isn’t worth her honor, and Drew isn’t either.” Jess focused her attention on the sleeping soldier’s pale face and pushed her fingers through his damp hair. “Cousin Drew gives up his virtue, while these men give up their extremities and lives for the Cavanaughs to maintain the lifestyle they enjoy? This war will change a lot of things.” Jess cast a knowing look to Ashleigh. “Starting with this blasted social arrogance, I hope.”
Ashleigh ached for the loss her sister’s misplaced intentions brought. What would make Catherine so desperate to willingly and blindly give one of the most intimate parts of herself? “So he have no intention of marrying Catherine?”
Jess tossed a towel over her shoulder as she grabbed a new pin to hold the gauze more securely. “As the heir, he wouldn’t waste his prospects on your sister.” She shook her head and handed the pin to Ashleigh. “Catherine is as much a pawn to Drew as Sam was to her. I just hope she realizes it before something worse happens. She’s playing a losing game.”
Ashleigh pulled the blanket up over the young man and offered a simple prayer against infection as she tucked the blanket around his chest. Abide with him? Yes. Please, God. And be with Catherine. She paused. When had she started praying so naturally again? Let alone for her troubled sister? She sighed. Perhaps her heart knew a lot more than her mind understood. She thought of Sam’s sweet kiss and smiled. Perhaps following her heart over her head wasn’t such a bad idea some times.
“Jessica told me of our aunt’s refusal.” David tapped a finger over his frown, his green eyes fiery, showing more emotion than Ashleigh had seen since meeting the gentle doctor. “And Sam was quick to share your plans to seek another place.”
“I only hope to find a solid benefactor and someone who is willing to offer suitable lodging.” Ashleigh sat across from David’s desk watching him pace behind it. “A few more months, at least?”
He stopped and sent her the intense stare of his. “Why not stay here?”
“Here?”
“I was quite serious about using the East Wing for the orphanage. Sam could transfer his efforts to those repairs and perhaps I can use my charm.” His eyes took on a gleam she’d never seen before. “To obtain extra funds for unspecified support to the hospital building. Appropriating some of those monies to help orphaned children might increase her appeal to the villagers, whether she recognizes it or not.” He almost grinned. “She’ll be shocked at her own magnanimity.”
Ashleigh laughed and shook her head. “Are you certain?”
“Come now, Nurse Dougall. You have known me several weeks now. I am quite serious in matters of care for the wounded and destitute, you can rely on that.” His smile unfurled unexpectedly, like a little boy who’d received his favorite gift. Maybe he did have a little charm and fire underneath all his quiet strength. “What supplies will you need to begin?”
Ashleigh stood slowly, searching for her voice. “I…I’m overwhelmed.”
“Serving the broken and dying, watching the pain in this everyday battle for the next breath, makes one fight harder to bring life and healing to those we can.” David stepped close, giving her elbow a gentle squeeze. “I will make certain you have what you need, as far as I am able.”
There was an intensity and vibrancy in his emerald eyes, passions and energy cloaked behind the calm demeanor of a physician. No, Dr. David Ross was not all he seemed. “You’re certain the children will not hinder your work with the soldiers?”
David’s smile softened. “If anything, the children might be a hopeful addition to the lives of these men. And there is corridor separating the East Wing from the main hospital as well as its own entrance and garden – to which you will have easy access for recreation. It’s an easily solution and I wish I’d thought of it sooner.”
“Thank you, David. Thank you for your kindness and service.”
A glimmer of mischief flickered across his expression before it disappeared. “I’m not as magnanimous as you think, Nurse Dougall. I want to keep you. It is rare to find a theatre nurse with the expertise, skill set, and compassion you possess. If housing the children here will keep you here, I am pleased to offer.”
“David, I finished building the storage shelves—” Sam came to an abrupt stop in the doorway, his gaze shifting between Ashleigh and David, then to David’s hand at Ashleigh’s arm. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Ashleigh stepped toward Sam, David’s generous news brimming her smile. “Oh, Sam, it’s no interruption, it’s a celebration.”
“Celebration?” The wariness in his gaze dimmed a little.
Was he jealous? A little shiver of delight tipped her smile broader. No one had ever been jealous of her. She took another step forward, holding his gaze. “Dr. Ross has offered the East Wing of the hospital as a place for the orphanage.”
“Perhaps you could take your service and energy to that end until you return to the States?” David added, nodding toward Ashleigh. “Since you both are such good friends, and have hearts for service, I’m certain you can come up with the best plan for repairs.” David’s gaze measured them. “And with your mutual interests, it shouldn’t be a hardship to spend time together.”
Heat drained from Ashleigh’s face. Did David know about their relationship? She dared not look at Sam, but his ready response drew her attention up.
“That sounds like a great idea, David.” Sam offered his hand, a glint of humor in his eyes. “And if there are other ways I can help with the hospital repairs, I’ll alternate my time.” His gaze dipped to Ashleigh’s. “I’m at your disposal.”
Her breath lodged in her throat and wrapped around a need to laugh. She barely kept control. “Fantastic news, Mr. Miller. I only have you for a few more weeks and I’ll use every ounce of your talent and energy to get the East Wing into shape for our little lambs.”
“Little lambs?” David’s smile faded but not his teasing tone. “Ms. Dougall, from my limited experience with children, ‘lambs’ wouldn’t be the descriptor I’d choose.” He inclined his head. “But I’ve seen you calm the most disgruntled patient of mine without so much as raising your voice, so I have great faith in your ability to…tame lambs.”
“Lambs might have been an inaccurate word choice.” Ashleigh laughed. “And though I’m a firm believer in miracles, Dr. Ross, a certain application for Ralph Pennington does leave me wondering at my skills. The eight-year-old has been removed from two previous homes and is on his third.”
“More adventures for our flock of injured soldiers, a few lost and rambunctious lambs.”
“You may need to invest in a lion tamer from Barnum and Bailey’s Greatest Show on Earth, Ash,” Sam said.
“You fellows are a hilarious duo, aren’t you? If the circus is in need of a few more clowns, perhaps I’ll know where to recruit.” She shook off her sm
ile and leveled Sam a look. “For now, Mr. Miller, let’s go see what work is to be done in the East Wing.”
Chapter Twenty
Catherine joined them for dinner, pale and quiet. Though every piece of her ensemble boasted of elegance and sheer beauty, something was wrong. Her sister walked with a veil about her, and despite the rift between them, Ashleigh mourned for her. The price her envy cost. Catherine had remained absent at meals for a week, since Lady Cavanaugh’s, and Ashleigh was fairly certain she knew why. In the morning light of her rash choice, she recognized her mistake, a decision she couldn’t absolve. She’d gambled and lost.
From the look of contained rage straining the contours of her perfect profile, Catherine hated the effort of coming to dinner. There glowed a dangerous desperation in the fiery light of her eyes, a near-panic. Even the natural workings of the dinner service moved with an effort to keep the strain from breaking.
Ashleigh hadn’t seen her sister in three days. Repairing the East Wing of the hospital, paired with her nursing responsibilities, monopolized much of her time. Working alongside Sam proved an easy chore, especially when he nipped a kiss here and there. She’d done well to push her guilt and fear away and live in the joy of their new romance, but in the quiet of night – she wondered. As their kisses grew in intensity so did the fire in her chest. Was it a normal feeling for women to experience with the men they loved or was it a disgraceful byproduct of her father’s misuse? She craved Sam’s touch, longed for his embrace to last a little longer each time. How could she know if the debauchery of her past incited a darker fire than her natural inclination?
“You are ill, Catherine darling.” Mother’s strident voice searched for a note of command. “You must eat something.”
“I am not ill.” Catherine’s tone raked over the words like a hiss, her palms splayed against the table as if to keep balance. “And I do not wish to be told what I should do.”
Mother didn’t as much as blink, but continued carving the ham on her plate. “I assumed the news would have made you ill. I know how you fancied Mr. Cavanaugh.”
Ashleigh looked from her mother, who proceeded to take a bite of ham as if nothing was amiss, and Catherine, whose scorching gaze hinted at a mask for tears. Red-rimmed eyes blinked, then narrowed with blame. “What have you heard?”
Marion Dougall lifted her eyes and finally seemed to notice she’d captivated the attention of the room. “Mr. Cavanaugh’s engagement to Lilith Parker, Lord Devin Parker’s eldest daughter.” She returned to her ham, nonplussed. “It’s been all over the village.”
“That can’t be right.” Scott’s frown wrinkled with the effort to make sense of situations in the realm of society. His intrigue in the realm of the elite was about as intact as Ashleigh’s. “I thought Mr. Cavanaugh had his sights set on Catherine. He visited enough over the past six months to make anyone think—”
“It seems, dear brother.” Catherine seethed through clenched teeth. “Mr. Cavanaugh has lost interest in what I can offer him.”
Catherine’s gaze flickered to Ashleigh’s and locked. Even with an effort to keep her expression neutral, a growing suspicion that Catherine recognized Ashleigh’s knowledge of her fall thrummed to her pulse. For the briefest moment, hurt pooled in the dark blue of Catherine’s eyes, then dwindled like fading daylight.
“You can’t really blame the young man, Catherine,” her mother continued, obviously unaware of Catherine’s crest toward an eruption. “He is to inherit the Cavanaugh fortune. It is his duty to marry for—”
“Prestige, money, influence.” Catherine tossed her napkin on the table. “I know. And we have none of it, not from want of trying to secure it either – at least from this Dougall.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Scott leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
Catherine shot the full fire of her blame to Ashleigh. “You could have helped your family, couldn’t you? All the time you went to college, studied, took care of poor orphans and the worthless sick in Asheville – you could have been looking for a husband who would rescue the reputation of this family, but no, you chose other people over our needs. People you didn’t even know.”
So this was the reason for Catherine’s venom toward her? She didn’t think Ashleigh cared enough for her family or their reputation? Ashleigh had never been one to coddle to status envy, but she hadn’t neglected her family, had she?
“Catherine, stop being cross. Drew Cavanaugh’s choices have nothing to do with Ashleigh.” Mother took a drink and dried off her lips before continuing. “And it isn’t as if all is lost. Lilith Parker is a sickly, weak young woman with a temperament as sweet as a lime. Many wealthy aristocrats choose to support women with more…stamina for their private lives.”
Mother’s full implications shocked quiet across the room. Even Catherine stuttered her words. “Do you mean I should become his…mistress?”
“Many men of rank and title hold mistresses nowadays. The women are paid handsomely for their services and some held in high regard. It is a more common occurrence than you realize and holds some banner of acceptance in society.”
“Mother.” Ashleigh dropped her spoon with an uneventful clink. This sort of conversation? And at the supper table in full hearing of the staff? “Catherine hasn’t lost her self-respect.”
Her mother shrugged. “You should not be surprised at the way of the world, Ashleigh. You are arms deep in the cruelest part of it at the hospital. It is the way of things.”
“Though my lack of virtue may be common knowledge, unlike some people’s--” Her gaze locked in on Ashleigh’s as she stood from her chair. “I still have morals, Mother, and expectations. No matter what you may think.” She looked back at her mother. “A man will love only me, or not at all. That includes Drew Cavanaugh.”
Catherine’s gaze shot darts at Ashleigh until she’d exited the room. Without a doubt Catherine was angry, and most likely felt rejected, but there was something else in her gaze. A look to make Ashleigh’s hope shudder.
“Must you move to the hospital now?” Sam hated the complaint in his own voice. Seeing Ashleigh every day, catching glimpses of her first thing in the morning or last at night even in secret, had become a welcome routine. Their regular conversations and hidden kisses came as expectant as breathing each day. “I’m only here one more week.”
Ashleigh offered him an apologetic frown as she placed Stephen into Fanny’s arms in the motor car. “We have three new children arriving in two days. Kara will need my help.”
As she passed him, he stopped her with a hand to her wrist. Her body bounced against his and he steadied her with tight arms. Oh, she fit so well there. “Is there an extra room at the hospital for me? I could help David. Carry people? Supplies?” His gaze pierced her with deeper meaning. “Anything to stay close to you.”
Her hand came up as if to touch his face, but she caught it. Each day proved a greater battle of impulse over expectation. Touching her, showing his affection, came too easily.
“We could certainly use your carpentry skills,” she offered, nudging his wounded pride with a smidgeon of hope. “There are so many repairs needed to the East Wing so with your work there every day, we should still have some time to visit.” She lowered her voice. “And I could come for dinner here every evening.”
Her dark gaze roamed his face, sweet care and admiration as tangible as if she’d kissed him. No, she didn’t want to be parted from him either – but the needs of others came first. He hoped the smile on his face conveyed the spectrum of affection pressing in on his chest. “I love you.”
Her eyes rounded and her bottom lip quivered open. Tears pooled in the depths of gold and brown. “Oh, Sam.” She narrowed her gaze but couldn’t cover the hint of pink in her cheeks. “How dare you make such a declaration while we’re standing in the middle of a group of people and I cannot properly reward you?”
“Well, the thought of your reward will have to do for now.”
T
heir gazes held and the pink in her cheeks deepened.
“Ashleigh,” her mother called from the doorway, proceeding in a frantic walk toward the house, her usual manner. “You must be sure to come for dinner each night, as promised.”
Ashleigh’s gaze flickered back to Sam’s. “I was just sharing that bit of information with Sam.”
Her mother skimmed over her simple day-dress and sighed. “If we were only the family we used to be, you wouldn’t feel reduced to wear such simple gowns.”
The effort it took for Ashleigh to draw her attention away from Sam expanded the warmth in his chest.
“In all honesty, Mother, it has been my sheer pleasure to keep my nurse’s uniform on for an entire day instead of changing clothes three times to fit the demands of mealtime or certain activities.”
Her mother’s chin raised and she pinched a frown. “When I was young and on my father’s grand estate, we changed clothes no less than five times per day and found pleasure in the employment. It was one of the privileges of the upper class and we took pride in our station.” She lifted an accusing finger, but her voice broke. “You…you should remember of which stock you came. Of your pedigree.”
Ashleigh walked to her mother and took her in her arms. “I meant no offense.” Ashleigh met Sam’s gaze, her smile sad. “Our worlds are different, Mother. Neither better nor worse.” She stepped back. “But this world is changing…and we must change with it.”
Sam rode with them to the hospital, taking the back entrance to keep Stephen from seeing the wounded in front. A young woman, auburn hair a match to Fanny’s, greeted them at the door, the resemblance enough to alert him that she was Fanny’s sister, Kara. She looked the part of a nanny, or at least what he’d imagined English nannies to be: high-collared dress, tight bun, and white apron in place.
It took only a few trips to unload Ashleigh’s and Stephen’s things into a small apartment on the second floor. The rooms were a far cry from the giant spaces of Roth Hall, but as he watched her place some of her belongings among the plain and practical furniture, he knew she didn’t care. How could he have thought his life would fit with Catherine’s?
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