by Hatch, Donna
Gathering her courage, she knocked. After being admitted, Amelia waited, twisting her hands, in the front parlor while the butler went to inquire whether Dr. St. Ives was receiving visitors.
She didn’t have to wait long. Immaculate in expertly tailored attire, Reed appeared. She tried not to notice how beautifully his bottle-green frockcoat fit his shoulders and set off his eyes, or how his cravat managed to look both Corinthian and careless. Most of all, she tried not to admire his intensely handsome face.
She swallowed against a suddenly very dry mouth, an effect he seemed to always have on her.
He raised his brows but his face remained completely expressionless. “Good morning, madam.”
Eyeing him uncertainly, she managed, “Why such formality, Reed?”
“I thought it only fitting, all things considered,” he said coolly.
A hole opened up inside her heart. She moistened her lips. “Because of what passed between us, or because you don’t wish to claim any intimate acquaintance with a divorced woman?”
“Do you think I really care about your status in society?” His tone dripped scorn.
“No. You never cared as much as I.” She fingered the strings of her reticule and called herself twelve kinds of idiot for coming. She really ought to learn to say no to Aunt Millie.
He said nothing for a long moment. Then, softly, “You had more to lose.”
She looked up at the gentleness in his voice. Again, a tangible current passed between them. He abruptly turned away. Amelia swayed, unsteady by the severance of eye contact.
“Forgive me.” He turned back to face her, all business now. “I failed to offer you a seat. Or refreshment.”
“Nothing, thank you.” Grateful to get off her wobbly legs, she sank into the nearest divan. She moistened her lips. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come. I heard you were staying here with your brother, and I needed to ask your advice. Professionally.”
“Professionally?” He sat in an armchair, the table between them an effective barrier and fixed an immovable stare upon her.
“On behalf of my Aunt Millie. You see, she’s having trouble sleeping. Her current physician’s remedies have become less effective than they once were.”
He leaned back and carefully placed his fingers together as if matching them up. “Does she know you’re here?”
“Of course. She asked me to come in her stead.”
“Really? She’s suddenly decided I’m worth her notice? Or has she taken pity upon an impoverished surgeon and has extended her charity to help build up my practice?”
“She thought you might know of new remedies of which her old doctor is not yet aware. She said you gave something to Lady Evensley—”
“Sleep remedies are something any physician can prescribe,” he interrupted. “Moreover, I don’t plan to remain in London long. I’m establishing myself in the country, so you see, I don’t plan to build up any sort of clientele here.”
He was leaving? The thought brought on a nervous flutter akin to panic. She stammered, “A-are you? Where will you go?”
“My cousin Freddy offered me his cottage in Hampshire—you know the place.” He smiled faintly. “It’s actually quite grand for a cottage; six bedrooms if you can believe it. It’s mine, deed and all. Apparently there isn’t a doctor or surgeon within miles. Or so he says.”
She pushed through her own sorrow and tried to think of him. “Oh, Reed, I’m so glad for you. It’s what you’ve always wanted—a practice in the country.”
A wistful smile touched his mouth. “Almost everything.”
She studied him, afraid to hope he might be softening toward her. His gaze moved slowly over her face as if memorizing it. Now would be a good time to say something witty or clever, but nothing came to mind.
For the briefest moments pain touched his eyes. “He actually offered it to me years ago, before I left for the war.”
Back when they’d been together. Had he secured it for her? “Reed...”
He cleared his throat. “But until I leave, tell your aunt to pay me a call and I’ll be happy to give her some direction. I’ll need to speak with her in person, though, so I can determine what she’s already tried and if she’s had any bad reactions to anything. That is, if she can bear to see me.” He stood in a clear dismissal.
“She never had any objection to you, Reed. She liked you, in fact. Even my uncle approved of your character. He simply disapproved of your family.”
“How comforting,” he said dryly.
Wishing she could think of something to say to prolong her call—ridiculous, since he clearly did not share her sentiment—she nodded, arose, and extended her hand. “Thank you.”
He clasped her hand briefly but released it as if he found the contact distasteful.
She cleared her throat. “Good day.” Her footsteps echoed on the wood parquet floor as she strode to the exit. At the doorway, she turned.
His focused stare remained fixed on her. Again she cursed herself for trying too hard to please her uncle. Aunt Millie had told her if she chose against her heart, Amelia would be sorry. Aunt Millie was right. If only she’d followed her counsel!
Amelia’s voice cracked. “If it means anything to you, I never stopped loving you.”
His body stiffened. “Good day, Mrs. Dasherwood.”
His abrupt dismissal hit her with the force of a slap. She’d been stupid to think he might still care for her. She was even more stupid to continue to love a man who didn’t return her feelings. Amelia left, as wounded as if she’d been well and truly trampled. Bleak loneliness opened its gaping maw and threatened to swallow her whole.
Chapter 6
Reed spent a torturous week fighting images of Amy and the softness in her eyes as she’d said, ‘I never stopped loving you.’
He’d been right to turn her away, of course. Only a dolt would lay his heart at the foot of a woman twice, much less at the foot of an aristocratic woman.
So if he’d been right, then why did he feel as if he’d swallowed a mace—ball, spikes and all?
He busied himself with purchasing supplies needed to open a practice in the country, as well as what he’d need to establish a home of his own. An empty home, without the touch of a woman.
But there’d be other women. He would not be alone forever. He’d certainly had enough women throw themselves at him that he never doubted his looks or charm. He’d find the daughter of a country gentleman who’d be happy to marry a man of his station.
He doubted he’d ever find another woman with the voice of an angel and the face of a goddess. Or with her compassion. Once, she’d found a fallen bird and had lovingly nursed it back to health, though with an injury that left it unable to fly. Did she still have that bird as a pet? No wonder she’d made a project of an orphanage. That really wasn’t so unlike her at all.
She’d stood her ground against his bully of a grandfather, and immediately won over the old man. Grandfather had winked at Reed and dared him to marry that girl. He’d said she had “grit.” No doubt that admirable quality had carried her through a bad marriage and an ugly divorce.
Reed let out his breath in disgust. He had to purge her from his thoughts. However, six years had failed to do it, no matter how much he’d thrown himself into his work. Even the perils of living in the midst of a war had not banished memories of Amelia.
He paused mid-stride as a thought occurred to him. He’d changed during their separation. No doubt, so had she. If he were to court her, he’d find that they no longer had any common interests and that a union between them would not be desirable.
Perhaps therein lay the answer. He’d court Amelia; and he’d see exactly why he didn’t want her. Then he could move to the country and finally stop comparing every woman to her. He could live again. He could love again.
And the revenge would be so satisfying if he could make her well and truly in love with him, so that when he announced he wanted nothing further to do with her, he
could leave her in the same wreckage she’d left him.
Yet the thought of hurting Amy left a sting of guilt. Could he actually look her in the eye and deliberately break her heart?
The following morning, he knocked at the door of her aunt’s house. Calling at this time of day broke all kinds of rules of society, instead of coming at the fashionable ‘at-home’ time, but perhaps he’d be forgiven due to his lowly status.
The butler looked him over as if to assess his worthiness. Then, no doubt noting the cut and fabric of his clothing, and assuming Reed to be a fashionable gentleman, asked in a respectful tone of voice, “May I help you, sir?”
Reed handed the butler his card. “Reed St. Ives to see Mrs. Dasherwood.”
“Mrs. Dasherwood is not at home, sir.”
Reed nodded, oddly disappointed. “Please be good enough to inform her that I have called.”
“Of course, sir.”
No doubt his card would be placed on a silver tray along with all the cards of other callers. Did she have many callers? The circumstances of her divorce being what they were, public opinion seemed to be that of horrified pity instead or scorn, which probably didn’t make for a wide circle of friends. Most of the beau monde only accepted the publicly untainted, as he well knew.
He turned away, took a hackney to a park, and ambled through the pathways. Nurses watching over children, and a few others strolled in the sun. A horsewoman galloped down a riding path with all the regal bearing of a queen, yet pushed her mount to an almost reckless pace as if trying to outrun invisible demons chasing her. He admired her form as she neared, then sucked in his breath. The horsewoman was Amelia Dasherwood.
She rode without appearing to notice him. Yet, at the last moment, just as she passed him, her gaze flicked his way. Behind him, hoof steps slowed and then stopped. He glanced over his shoulder. She sat turned in the saddle, motionless, with her gaze fixed upon him as if undecided whether to engage him.
He’d been unforgivably cool at their last meeting. She probably needed some sign of warmth to venture an approach.
He lifted his hand in a greeting and sauntered toward her with a casualness he didn’t feel. He fought the inclination to run to her and bare details of his lonely existence since she walked out of his life. A man had his pride, after all.
She turned her horse around, walked toward him, and stopped a few feet away. He admired her figure as she sat side-saddle, every inch a lady, wearing a riding habit of rich purple, a tasteful and elegant bonnet perched on her head. She’d always had a flair for fashion. A few tendrils had escaped her chignon and blew around her face, giving her an earthy, approachable look.
He offered a tentative smile. “I just came from your house.”
She blinked. “You did?”
“I did. I’d hoped I could entice you to go riding with me.”
A faint curving of those lips came in reply. “You went to my house, without a horse, to see if I wanted to go riding with you?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I assumed you wouldn’t be able to go with me on the spot, but thought I could entice you to join me tomorrow morning.”
She said nothing at first, merely swept her gaze over him as if to learn all his secrets. Finally, she moistened her lips. “I accept.” She smiled, yet a hint of wariness remained in her eyes.
He wanted to erase the caution in her expression and assure her he’d never hurt her. But wasn’t he planning on doing just that—woo her, discover that they didn’t suit, and then leave, preferably after stealing away her heart? Shame at his own heartlessness edged through his resolve.
He cleared his throat. “I rather fancy an ice at the moment. Care to accompany me to Gunther’s?” Though they were on the opposite side of the park from Gunther’s, the walk would be lovely.
“I’d be delighted.” Yet that hint of caution remained.
As she made to dismount, he stepped closer to help her down. He closed his hands over her waist and lowered her to the ground, her soft body brushing against his. Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself that now was not the time to pull her into his arms. She looked up at him, her cheeks pink from the early morning air, and her lips within easy reach. All he’d have to do is lower his head a little...
He cleared his throat and stepped back, reminding himself he needed to move slowly before he would gain her trust. Then he’d be the one walking away instead of the one left behind.
Yet, after only moments in her presence, that idea began to sound less and less appealing.
As they strolled side by side, Amy led her horse and cast guarded glances his way. The horse let out his breath in a whoosh and shook his head, jingling the tack. A bird sang with all its heart in a nearby tree, nearly drowning out the chorus of other birdsong.
Reed searched for a topic. “I understand you’re sponsoring an orphan asylum.”
Her eyes lit up. “I am. It’s for this reason that I’ve returned to London—to gain supporters. There’s so much to do.”
“Have you had any luck? Finding supporters, I mean?”
“Yes, much more than I’d hoped. The Evensleys and my aunt have been of tremendous support and have recommended my venture to their friends. Some still only see me as a woman of scandal, but many have been more helpful than I expected.”
“It’s a worthy cause.”
She smiled up at him. “Very. Oh, Reed, you should have seen them. Nearly three-fourths of the children died last year due to typhus. The survivors are so thin and weak—poor, half-starved things without adequate heat or clothing.”
Unable to stop himself, Reed said, “If I can be of any assistance, let me know. As an officer on half-pay, I haven’t much to give financially, of course, but I’d be happy to offer my services as a doctor. I have studied as physician as well as a surgeon.”
“That’s very generous of you, thank you.” Her smiled turned so dazzling that Reed had to remind himself of all the reasons why he did not want to develop feelings for her.
A faint breeze whispered in the trees, bringing Amy’s taunting perfume. He drew in a deep breath, filling his senses with her fragrance.
She spoke in a hushed voice. “Your grandfather...he doesn’t support you?”
“He offers, but his gifts always come with a price. I value my independence too much.”
“Of course. I meant no offence.” Her mouth twisted to one side and a gleam entered her eyes. “Do you suppose he might help support an orphan asylum?”
He chuckled. “You could always ask. He is in London right now.”
“I believe I shall.”
They walked together, their footsteps falling synchronously. He wondered if he’d matched his pace to hers, or if she’d adjusted. They’d always found themselves walking in stride when they’d walked together in the past, her arm tucked in his, his chest swelling in pride that she was with him, of all men. How many dreams they had then!
He gave himself a mental shake. “How’s your aunt?”
“My aunt?”
“Is she still having trouble sleeping?”
“Oh, that. I suggested she pay you a call.”
“I do have a rather good remedy I’ve developed myself and I hope to offer it to my new patients.”
“I didn’t realize you did that sort of thing.”
He shrugged. “I’ve discovered an interest in the healing powers of plants as well as traditional medicine and surgery. I should have given it to you when you called. I apologize for my conduct.” He inwardly winced at his abrupt dismissal.
“Think nothing of it.” But hurt shone through her eyes before she lowered her lashes.
Wincing, Reed closed his eyes. Only a beast would cause her pain. He’d have to fortify himself against her if he truly meant to prove their unsuitability. Otherwise, he risked losing his heart to her again.
She cleared her throat delicately. “How soon do you depart? For the country?”
“I’d planned to go the end of the month.”
S
he looked up at him. Was that disappointment in her eyes? “So soon?”
“I might delay, if given the right incentive.” He gave her a meaningful look. “I must admit, however, that I’m anxious to begin setting up my practice, although I suspect many my patients will include animals.”
Her lips twitched. “How are you at delivering horses?”
“About as good as I am at delivering babies.”
“I don’t suppose you had much call for that in the middle of a war.”
“You’d be surprised at how many babies I delivered, both of the four and two-legged kind. The camp followers and officers’ wives produced a surprising number of them, legitimate or otherwise.”
“Oh.” Her face colored slightly. She glanced up at him, her lip held between her teeth, her unspoken question dangling in the air between them. Her eyes, bluer than the morning sky, began that familiar dance as if searching for answers in his.
Reed stood as if poised on the edge of a cliff. Did he have the courage to leap?
“None of the babies were mine,” he said softly.
She focused on the ground. “It really isn’t my concern.”
“Perhaps not, but I wanted you to know.” His hand itched to touch her smooth cheek, and had to remind his heart not to care. His heart didn’t listen.
Her breath came in audible bursts. “No one took your place in my heart.” She halted and looked up at him. “I felt like an unfaithful wretch, married to him and thinking of you. Then I realized he didn’t care. He preferred it that way, even, because he was thinking of someone else, too—a different person every few days, of course—but he was never faithful to me.”
“I’m sorry.” And he truly was sorry, curse him for an imbecile.
“I’m sorry, too. I thought by marrying a man of whom my uncle approved, I would be assured of happiness. I was wrong.” Her words came out in a rush with hurt and bitterness carved into every syllable. “I know people aren’t usually surprised when married men keeping mistresses, but it hurt me to think I wasn’t enough for him. At first I thought it was my fault—if I had really loved him, and had been totally faithful to him in my heart, perhaps he wouldn’t have strayed.”
