“Goodness. You have caught me right before I left for a trip out of town. Give me a moment to gather the supplies I will need.” She shook her head and muttered to no one in particular, “It appears my trip to see Father will need to be postponed.”
She hurried away to collect what she needed. Lizbeth’s labor had started earlier than Rayne had thought, but if she was indeed carrying twins, it made sense that she would be early.
“What can I do to help?” Edwin asked as she returned to the entrance hall and placed her medical bag on the floor and shrugged into her coat.
Marcus looked over at Edwin, apparently recognizing him for the first time. “Why are you here?”
Based on Marcus’s rather rude question, Carter had apparently shared with everyone in their circle of friends the story of Edwin’s clash with him over Lottie. To his benefit, Edwin did not cower or snap back at the man. “I help out in the infirmary occasionally. Dr. Stevens is good enough to accept my assistance.”
Marcus’s brows climbed up his forehead. “Indeed? And does that leave you enough time to drink?”
Rayne scowled. “That’s enough, Marcus, and quite rude. We have more important things to consider right now.”
Marcus’s shoulders slumped and he looked a bit sheepish. “You are right, and I apologize Lord Sterling. I’m afraid I’m a bit flustered at the moment.”
Edwin nodded. “Apology accepted.” He handed Rayne her bag. “I shall be happy to stay and receive visiting family members. Is anyone being sent home today?”
“Yes. Thank you for the reminder. Mrs. Wilson’s husband will be by sometime this afternoon. I have all the instructions for her in the file on the top of my desk. Walter should be back from his errands shortly.”
He opened the door to allow Rayne and Marcus to leave. “You have your carriage, Mr. Mallory?”
“Yes.” Marcus took Rayne’s arm as they proceeded down the steps to the Mallory carriage sitting at the edge of the pavement.
Once they were settled, Marcus shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “It is not my business at all, but I could not have been more surprised to find Lord Sterling not only in your infirmary, but actually working there.”
Rayne grinned. “Yes. It is a bit of a surprise, is it not?”
Marcus lowered his voice. “I feel the need to warn you that Sterling is not a nice person. He has quite a—well deserved—reputation.”
Rayne had no idea why, but she felt the need to defend the man. She thought of all his help with her finances, with standing on one leg for hours to bandage patients from the accident. Of sending a message to Addie so she could gather the other women to help her. She shook her head. “Perhaps he has a bad reputation, but I have not seen it.” God, of course, would forgive her for that little lie since he was certainly a bit of a mess when he first arrived.
Marcus shook his head. “You don’t know what you are getting yourself into.”
“I am not getting myself into anything, I assure you. I am grateful for Lord Sterling’s help. That is all.” She sniffed and turned her head, wondering if she had just told another lie. Was there more to Lord Sterling than someone who was helping her?
After a few minutes of silence, she asked, “How long have you known Lord Sterling?”
Marcus leaned back in the seat and rested his foot on his knee. “It seems most of my life. We were at Eton about the same time. Then, of course, we met at our clubs and at the numerous ton events, balls, and so forth in London. We were not what you might call close friends, however.”
Aside from her initial confrontation with Edwin over the brandy, and the few suggestive remarks he’d made at the beginning of his treatment, since then he’d treated her with respect, caring, and even protectiveness. Considering what she’d seen so far, she wanted more information about him. He was truly a puzzle to her. “Was he always as he’s been the past few years? Drinking a lot, rowdy parties, that sort of thing? Even when he lived in London?”
Marcus thought for a moment and she could see his expression go from pondering to curiosity, and then speculation. “Actually, no. I mean, he did quite a bit of what all young gentlemen do, drinking, parties, gambling hells—he glanced at her and then glanced away—and other things.”
“Mistresses?” She grinned.
“Innocent young women are not supposed to know about that,” he chided.
“And what makes you think I’m an innocent young woman?” Of course, she was innocent in a certain sense, and most likely the way he meant it, but for some reason it annoyed her that he thought her innocent. After all, while practicing medicine she’d certainly seen her share of things at which any young, innocent miss would most likely swoon.
He looked surprised at first at her comment, then laughed. That annoyed her more. She must still be tired from her lack of sleep to allow these things to bother her. Hopefully, she could remain pleasant during the upcoming delivery, which could be quite challenging, but also one of her favorite tasks, seeing a new life emerge from a woman’s body.
“Did you know Lord Sterling’s sister?” Since they were stuck in traffic and most likely Lizbeth’s labor would be for many hours, she might as well return to the subject at hand and get as much information about Edwin as she could from someone who knew him for years. The little bit she’d gleaned from Addie about Edwin’s sister wasn’t enough to satisfy her.
“Yes. Lady Lydia. Died very young. That was a sad case.”
Addie had mentioned an “undiagnosed illness.” Perhaps Marcus knew more. “How did she die?”
He shook his head. “She unexpectedly retired to the family’s estate from London in the middle of the Season. A few weeks later we received word that she died from an ‘undiagnosed illness’.”
Marcus’s information was the same as his sister’s. “That is very sad.”
There was much more to that tale. In fact, it was so blatantly suspicious that she was surprised Marcus told the story with a straight face. But then men weren’t as interested in gossip or scandals as women were. Most times.
He twisted in his seat and looked out the window. “We would make better time if we walked.”
“We can walk if you like. I always enjoy exercise.” Rayne reached for her bag.
Marcus rapped on the ceiling to stop the carriage. The driver opened the panel and looked down. “Yes, sir?”
“You can stop. We are going to walk the rest of the way. When you arrive at my house just put the carriage away. But we will need it later to return Dr. Stevens to her home.”
“Very good sir.”
As soon as there was a break in traffic, the carriage came to a stop and Marcus opened the door. After stepping out he reached for Rayne’s hand, helped her out, then took the medical bag from her hand.
Edwin allowed the man at the door of the Bath and County Club to assist him out of his coat. It had been a while since he’d visited the place. He used to spend hours and hundreds of pounds in the club, playing cards, drinking, and placing ridiculous bets in the betting book.
He cringed remembering one time after he was well into his cups that he bet Brennan how long it would take for a drop of rain to slide down the windowpane. Such foolishness.
Then, after a few hours of money and time wasted, he and his friends either visited a brothel, a mistress, or performed some outlandish public display of idiocy that invariably ended up in the newspapers.
Now, it all seemed so childish and useless. Had it only been three weeks since the race that ended with him flat on his back and staring up at the most beautiful doctor he’d ever seen in his life?
He felt as though a lifetime had passed. Aside from the one time Brennan and Manchester had visited him in the infirmary and were relieved of their flasks, he hadn’t seen his friends much at all.
Twice they called at his house, but once the fog of alcohol had cleared from his body and brain, he found his innate curiosity and neglected intellect rise again and he began raiding his library for books to read. And not just medical books.
He had his housekeeper remove all the brandy from the house and found the hardest part of being sober all the time was missing the habit of drinking away his guilt over his sister. But then, that was what had started him on his road to destruction three years before.
“Coffee, please,” he said to the footman who approached him with a bottle of brandy in his hand.
“Very good, my lord.” He turned back nary a flicker of surprise in his eyes, which surprised Edwin more.
He was perusing the newspaper and sipping on his coffee when Brennan and Manchester barged through the door and headed straight for him.
“What’s this?” Manchester’s brows were almost hidden by the few strands of hair on his forehead. He waved at Edwin’s coffee cup.
Deciding to face the two men head on, he said, “Coffee. Now my beverage of choice.”
They both waved at the footman to bring them brandy and laughed so hard they were doubled over, pushing at each other like youths barely out of university. Apparently, they had already begun their evening of carousing.
Brennan took a glass from the tray the footman held and poured brandy into it. “Here, you don’t want coffee to rot your stomach.” His smiled faded when Edwin didn’t take the glass and shook his head. “No. Thank you anyway.”
Manchester and Brennan looked at each other with a combination of surprise and anger. “What are you about, Sterling?”
Edwin shrugged. “Nothing. Since I was forced to forego my brandy while in the infirmary, I find I feel much better without it.”
“It’s that sour doctor, isn’t it?” Brennan said and gulped his drink.
His initial annoyance at the men turned to irritation at the slur to Rayne. “She is far from sour. She is a lovely woman dedicated to helping people.”
Again, the two idiots collapsed in laughter. “Next thing I know you will be telling us you’re giving up cards and women.” Manchester’s comment did not come across as amusing as Edwin assumed he wanted it to be. In fact, it appeared his friends felt threatened.
“Is that why you had that butler turn us away when we came twice before?” Brennan slammed his glass down on the table. “Are you feeling righteous? Too good for us?”
The men’s jump from hilarity to anger was surprising. Why hadn’t he noticed before that drinking and carousing was the only basis of their so-called friendship?
“I am merely taking my life in a different direction. I am not condemning you but find it’s time for me to look for other activities.”
“Ah. I get it. You’re tupping the good doctor and want to stay in her favor.” Manchester raised his glass. “Well done. She might be sour, but in the dark one doesn’t have to look at her face.”
Edwin leaned forward, wishing his leg was not still held in a splint so he could jump across the table and take Manchester to the floor with a few good blows to his sneering face. “I am not ‘tupping’ the doctor, and your insults to her will end or despite my broken leg, I will beat you to a pulp.”
“Well, blasted hell, Sterling. You love the woman,” Brennan said.
“I do not.” That was definitely not a place Edwin wished to visit. He might care for her, and before he discovered she was betrothed, wondered if they could ever have a future together, but love? No. Love hurt too much when it was taken away. Although he certainly hadn’t loved his sister the way a man loves a woman he wants to mate with, her death had ripped his heart apart.
“Yes. You do,” they both said in unison.
“Because I respect Dr. Stevens and am grateful for what she did to patch me up doesn’t mean I am in love with her. But now, I find myself bored with the conversation, and I certainly do not want to deprive you of your evening’s entertainment.”
Manchester turned to Brennan. “He just dismissed us.”
“So it seems.” They both stared at him as if he’d just grown another head. “You might say you’re not in love with her, but I suggest you take a second look at yourself.” Manchester downed the rest of his drink and looked over at Brennan. “Let’s leave his lordship’s exalted presence. It’s starting to smell in here.”
Love.
At one time that word directed toward him would scare the breeches off him. Now, it didn’t seem so frightening.
As he watched his two friends leave the club, pushing and shoving each other like two green youths, he recalled the time Carter Westbrooke visited with him after Edwin had insulted Lottie Danvers and the subject of love came up.
“Time to rise, Sterling.” Carter pulled back the drapes, allowing the bright sunlight to flood Edwin’s bedroom.
Westbrooke gripped Edwin’s hair and pulled back so he could see his face. “Time to get up, Sterling.”
Edwin’s eyes opened and he groaned. “You must be a bad dream.”
“No. I am your worst nightmare.” Carter let go and walked to the dresser across the room. He picked up the half-full pitcher of water and dumped it on Edwin’s head.
“What the blasted hell!” He jumped up and shook his head, water splattering in every direction. “Is that you, Westbrooke? What the hell are you doing in my bedchamber? Were you a guest last night? I don’t remember.” He groaned and held his head.
“Yes. It is I, Mr. Carter Westbrooke. I have come to deliver a message to you that I expect will take some repeating before it enters your soused brain.”
“Is this about that whore?”
Carter’s fist flew, connecting with Edwin’s jaw. He went down like a sack of flour.
“That was your second mistake.”
Edwin eyed him from his bed. “Get out of my house.”
Carter rubbed his knuckles. “In case you were wondering what your first mistake was, it was accosting my betrothed on a public street and insulting her with an offer that doesn’t bear repeating.”
“Your betrothed? Are you crazy, man? She’s—”
Carter wrapped his hand around Edwin’s neck and pulled him forward, punching him in his soft middle. “Never. Say. That. Word. Again.”
He doubled over and looked up at him. “Do you know about her mother?” He raised his hand up. “Don’t hit me again, or everything I drank last night will come up to greet us. I merely want to know if you are familiar with your future wife’s family?”
“I know everything I need to know. But hear this, Sterling. If you so much as utter one single word about my wife, or her mother, or her aunts, sisters, cousins, or ancestors I will come back for you and I can assure you it won’t be pleasant.”
Edwin straightened and stood long enough to collapse on his bed. He regarded Carter with amazement. “You love her.”
“Just remember what I told you. If anyone offers an opinion to you about Miss Danvers, or solicits your opinion, you will say nothing except flattering things about her. You are to become her champion. Is that understood?”
“I always thought love would do crazy things to a man, and here stands the proof.” He raised his hand in surrender when Carter took one step toward him. “I agree. I will say nothing disparaging about the lady. If I meet her on the streets, or in a shop, or in church, I will treat her with the utmost respect.”
Carter placed his hands on his hips. “From what I saw downstairs, and the condition you are in, it might do you some good to go to church.”
Yes, indeed. Love would do crazy things to a man. Change one’s lifestyle, perhaps?