THOMAS RANG THE DOORBELL at Charles Collins’s Holland Park townhome. He knew that Geraldine wasn’t there, but it wasn’t Geraldine who had asked him to come by. It had been Charles.
Why, he didn’t know, but Charles had been most insistent that Thomas stop by while Geraldine was at work. And he was happy to oblige. He just hoped this wasn’t some sort of cry off about his daughter, because there was no reason for that.
Wasn’t there?
And the thought caught him off guard.
There was something he just didn’t want to admit, but Geraldine had seen him at his most vulnerable lately.
And he desired her.
It was something more than a quick seduction game that he played time and time again, but what it was he didn’t know and that thought unnerved him because he couldn’t have her. He wouldn’t put her through any more pain. She’d been through so much already.
“Thomas, come in.” Charles opened the door and Thomas stepped past him into the foyer. Charles took his coat and hung it up. “Won’t you join me in the sitting room?”
“Of course,” he said as he followed Charles into the sitting room. “I get a lot of flak, you know.”
“For what?” Charles asked, confused.
“For living in Notting Hill in a modest-sized home, but what I don’t understand is why you don’t get any flak for living in a town house?”
Charles chuckled. “Who says I don’t? Then again, I’m not a duke. I’m so far down the list of succession that a lot of people would have to die before I even had sight of the throne and I’m glad of that. You, on the other hand, are definitely an eccentric.”
“Why, thank you.”
“Drink?” Charles asked.
“No, I have to make rounds at the hospital soon.” Thomas sat down on the sofa. “I’d much rather have the drink. So if you have a mineral water with a twist of lemon that would be great.”
“Of course.” Charles poured it and handed Thomas the glass. Thomas noticed Charles’s hand shook.
“Thank you. Are you sure you’re quite well?”
“I’m sure.” Charles sat down, ending that topic. “I heard about the pregnant woman.”
“Yes.”
Charles knew about his mother, but he didn’t want to talk about that right now. “How can I help you, Charles?”
“Geraldine tells me you’re aware that I have cancer.”
“Yes, Charles. I drove her to the hospital when you collapsed during chemo.”
“You haven’t told anyone else?” Charles asked carefully. He was hedging.
“Of course not. Why are you so concerned with keeping it a secret from your colleagues, though?”
“Just privacy. I don’t need a lot of bleeding hearts telling me that I’m in their prayers or giving me sympathetic looks. I don’t need that. I don’t deserve that after all my sins of the past.”
Thomas chuckled. “My father wouldn’t be giving you any.”
Charles snorted. “Don’t even start with me about your father, who would, by the way, not approve of you living in Notting Hill.”
“It’s why I live there.” Thomas winked.
“You are like him in some respects. Cheeky and arrogant, but that’s what makes you a brilliant surgeon.”
“Thank you again. Why do I deserve so much flattery this afternoon?”
“Because my cancer has moved from my stomach. And don’t say it, don’t say you’re sorry.”
“Where is it?” Thomas asked, but he had an idea.
“The heart. My angiosarcoma is small, but it’s there.”
“Charles, angiosarcoma is spread from soft-tissue cancer.”
“Yes, that’s where it spread first. Stomach into the heart. I want you to take out as much of the tumor as you can. I know it’s not possible to take it all out and I know it’s likely to come back, but I want a fighting chance and you’re the most talented surgeon to do it.”
Thomas wanted a drink as it all sank in. Charles was dying now. Previously he was battling cancer, but angiosarcomas were almost always fatal. In cases of malignancy the cancerous tissue had to be removed, but with a border of cancer-free tissues with good margins. It was almost impossible to do that with a heart.
And he couldn’t operate on Charles because he thought of him as a sort of father figure. He respected him too much. He couldn’t do it. Only he had to do it. His survival rates for this kind of surgery were the highest in London.
He wouldn’t leave Charles high and dry.
“Does Geraldine know?” Thomas asked quietly.
“That it’s spread? No. She doesn’t and you’re not to tell her. She needs to concentrate on work. I won’t burden her with this.”
“How are you burdening her? You’re her father.”
Charles’s expression was weary. “Yes. In name, but...too much time was lost between us. I’m just looking for a bit more. You have to do the surgery for me.”
“You told me you never wanted me to operate on you.” It was a flimsy excuse.
“You’re the only one who can. Your success rates are higher than most.”
“Charles, they may be a bit higher, but angiosarcoma still ends up the same.”
“Death, I know. I’m just asking for some more time. Time to get to know my daughter. I have a bit more living I have to do.”
Thomas’s heart sank. There was no way he could turn this down. “I’ll do it, but I won’t keep it secret from Geraldine. She needs to know what’s happening.”
“You’re a thorn in my side, Thomas. You know that?” Charles grumbled.
“I know, but now I’m your surgeon and you have to listen to me. Oh, the power I’ll wield.”
“Ha-ha.” Charles leaned back in his chair. “I’ll tell her, but after the country party this weekend. If I tell her now she’ll try to get out of it.”
“You’re not going to that? It’s in Buckinghamshire and you’re not well enough to travel.”
“I know, which is why I’m hoping you’ll go in my place.”
Thomas shook his head. “No, you know my history with the Ponsonby family. You know that they’re Cassandra’s in-laws. I will not go there.”
“Then I won’t tell Geraldine about my angiosarcoma. Take her to Buckinghamshire to the Ponsonby winter party or I won’t breathe a word about my condition.”
“That’s absolute blackmail.”
Charles grinned. “I know. Didn’t Zoe want to attend that event?”
Thomas groaned. “All right, all right, I’ll escort Geraldine to that event. Zoe can’t go because she’s still recovering from her own surgery. I won’t have her traipsing around a winter garden party and being exposed to germs. Not in her fragile state. She can stay at home.”
“Thank you, Thomas. Geraldine has so much to learn about our world.”
“I hate to break it to you, old man, but I don’t think she particularly cares about it.”
“I know, but when I go she’ll inherit everything, including my seat in the House of Lords. It’s tradition, and I want someone I can trust to show her the ropes.”
“I’ll try, Charles. I will.”
“That’s all I ask.” Charles sighed. “Actually, that’s not all.”
“Oh?” Thomas asked.
“You have my blessing. Not sure if you know that.”
Thomas was confused. “To perform the surgery? I certainly hope so since you’ve just asked me.”
“No, to date Geraldine.” Charles scrubbed his hand over his face. It was apparently hard for him to talk about this.
“We’re friends, Charles.”
Charles shot him a disbelieving look. “I think it’s more than that. You care for her, you’re attracted to her, and I want you to know in case anything happens to me that you have my blessing. Just because you’re your father’s son, it doesn’t mean I disapprove of you.”
Thomas sighed. “Charles, I appreciate it, but...I have hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”
Charles was shocked. “Has it progressed?”
“No, I mean I’m a carrier.”
“Then what is the holdup?” Charles asked, confused. “You’re a carrier, but it might not amount to anything.”
“Heart conditions are in my family. Look at my mother, father and Zoe. I can’t do that to her.”
“So you do care for her.”
Thomas shook his head and stood. “I have to get back to the hospital. Thank you for the drink.”
He couldn’t talk about this, because it didn’t matter if he did care for Geraldine. Nothing could happen. He wouldn’t do that to her. Even with Charles’s blessing, he just wouldn’t put Geraldine’s heart in danger.
Charles sighed. “I’ll let you get to your rounds.”
“Sounds good. I’ll book your preoperative assessment and your surgery. The quicker I get in there the better margins I can get. Angiosarcomas grow very fast.”
Charles nodded. “I know. Thank you.”
“Of course, Charles. I’ll show myself out.” Thomas grabbed his jacket and then headed back into the street. He wondered how Geraldine was going to react when she found out and he was annoyed that Charles wasn’t going to tell her unless he took her to that ridiculous winter garden party.
Now he felt an inkling of what Geraldine must’ve felt when she’d been unable to tell him about Zoe and the pacemaker.
He cursed under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. Families. They were too bloody complicated.
Charles and Geraldine aren’t your family, though.
He really didn’t want to go to that garden party in Buckinghamshire. He always avoided that party because he had no wish to see Cassandra ever again.
Not after she’d used him.
She wanted to be connected to an aristocratic family who was just that. Aristocratic. Maybe they had a job like barrister or solicitor, even banker, but she’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want a duke who was a surgeon and absolutely committed to his work.
There had been many times she’d been angry he’d missed some kind of function because a patient had been in need.
“Have someone else do it! You’re the Duke of Weatherstone. You promised you’d be there.”
“I’m well aware of my title, Cassandra, but first and foremost I’m a surgeon. My patient needed me.”
“Is this how it’s going to be? You’re going to leave me high and dry at social functions because someone needs surgery?”
“Yes. Someone’s life is more important than a party. I’m a surgeon first, Cassandra, and a duke second.”
That had been the argument that had ended it all, although the relationship had been on its last legs ever since he’d explained that he was at risk of heart problems.
It was his fault. He’d chosen his career over love. And when he had started to date again, he’d soon learned that most women were like Cassandra. No one understood his passion for medicine.
Except Geraldine.
Yes, Geraldine understood it, but he wasn’t completely sure how dedicated she was because he knew that she wasn’t completely satisfied with being a cardiologist.
Why is it your concern? It’s her life.
And he didn’t know why he was so concerned about it. Geraldine was nothing more than a work friend.
Is she?
* * *
“That’s a nasty angiosarcoma.” Geraldine didn’t mean to sneak up on Thomas, but he’d been so absorbed in the MRI of a nasty-looking cancer of the heart that he hadn’t heard her come into his office.
He clicked the image closed on his computer and spun around, looking put out that she’d sneaked up behind him.
“Geraldine, I didn’t hear you knock.”
“I did knock, but you didn’t answer and Mrs. Smythe told me you didn’t have a patient so I thought it was safe for me to come in. I can see now why you didn’t hear me knock. That was an impressive angiosarcoma.”
“Yes,” Thomas said evasively. “It doesn’t look good.”
“Have you told the patient about it?” She asked taking a seat.
“The patient knows, but still wants me to proceed with the surgery.” Thomas didn’t look her in the eye and she had the distinct feeling he was hiding something from her.
It’s not your concern.
“Hopefully you can get good margins but with that kind of tumor—”
“I know,” Thomas said, cutting her off. “Is there something I can help you with, Geraldine?”
“Yes, I’m hoping you don’t mind crying off this weekend garden party. I just don’t want to go. I can spend the day in the office and Father will be none the wiser.”
“You’re not crying off. If I have to go, you have to go,” he said sternly.
“If I don’t go, why do you have to go? Father told me you didn’t want to go either. I thought you were sympathetic to my plight.”
Thomas chuckled. “I am, or usually I would be, but your father will have his spies out and I think it’s better we go. It’ll make him happy.”
Geraldine groaned. “You’re right. He’ll have his spies. Who has a garden party in the middle of December anyway?”
He smiled. “The ton are an eccentric group of partygoers. Any excuse for a function or showing off.”
“I’m surprised you don’t throw a party to show off.”
“My father used to, but they weren’t my cup of tea. Of course, he would have functions at the family estate in Buckinghamshire. I live in Notting Hill.”
“What happened to the estate?”
“It’s still there. I rent it out occasionally, and part of it is open for tours. People tour the home and the gardens.”
“Really, one day I would love to see where you grew up.”
“Well, we can go tomorrow after we make our perfunctory rounds at the garden party.”
Now she was intrigued. “That makes going to this garden party almost worth it.”
He leaned across the desk, his hands folded. “And going with me isn’t worth it?”
“I think it’ll be entertaining,” she teased.
“That’s it?”
She shrugged. “What more do you want?”
“Touché.”
“What time are you going to pick me up?”
“I have to drive?”
“I don’t have a car. Remember, I take the Underground regularly.”
“Hmm, how convenient.” Then he grinned. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten in the morning. If we get to the garden party unfashionably early then we can probably make the last tour of my childhood home.”
“I don’t get a private tour?”
“Oh, you want a private tour?” His voice was husky and she realized she was treading on dangerous ground. She still remembered those women talking at that party about how the Duke of Weatherstone was a womanizer.
“No, I’ll just stick with the standard one, thank you very much.” She got up. “I’ll leave you to your angiosarcoma. If you need any... What am I saying? I can’t help you with that.”
“You could if you were a surgeon.”
It was a barb. “Why are you so obsessed with me becoming a surgeon?”
“Only because I think you’d be brilliant at it.”
A warm flush spread across her cheeks. “Well, I’m not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She got out of his office as quickly as she could. She didn’t want to discuss her being a surgeon anymore. It wasn’t any of his business.
What was done was done. She was happy with her lot in life.
Are you?
And the answer was simple. She wasn’t, but she was too scared to change it.