It had been a long, tiring, and grueling night, but at six ten the next morning Miss Daisy Evangeline Mallory entered the world, followed by her sister, Miss Grace Ursula Mallory at six twenty-two. Their mother had been right, and twins were tucked away in her womb in such a way that Rayne was unable to detect the second one, although in truth she wasn’t surprised when baby number two started to make her way out.
Lizbeth was exhausted but smiling as she and Marcus gazed at their daughters with wonder. Two little bundles wrapped in soft blankets laid on the bed in front of them, tufts of dark hair sticking up from the edge of the coverlet.
Rayne was always a tad concerned when she announced the gender of the child—in this case children—to the new father. Some men were extremely displeased at the arrival of a daughter, but Marcus was beside himself with happiness.
Lizbeth and her bedding had been cleaned up, and Addie, Lottie and Pamela, who had arrived shortly after Rayne, were bustling around the room, straightening things up, checking on the nappy supply and giving instructions to the nurse who had arrived the night before.
“As Mrs. Mallory’s doctor, I prescribe sleep for my patient. Lizbeth put in a very hard night’s work and she needs rest.” Rayne spoke specifically to Marcus as she packed her medical bag and looked around the room for anything she might have missed.
“Cook is fixing breakfast for all you ladies, so please avail yourselves of a hot meal before returning to your homes.” Marcus kicked off his boots and settled in alongside his wife. “I will be napping with Lizbeth.”
The nurse, introduced earlier as Mrs. Florence Applegate, took the two precious babies into her arms and made for the door. “Mrs. Mallory, are you using a wet nurse I need to contact?” the nurse asked.
“No.” Lizbeth yawned and shook her head. “Just wake me when the babies grow hungry.” She slid down, resting her head on the pillow.
The nurse, Lottie, Addie, Pamela, and Rayne all headed out of the room. As she quietly closed the door, Rayne looked back to see Marcus enfolding an already-sleeping Lizbeth in his arms, placing her head on his chest. Lizbeth murmured in her sleep and shifted to wrap her arm around his waist. Marcus kissed her forehead and closed his eyes. She’d rarely seen such obvious devotion between a couple and was a bit embarrassed to have witnessed such an intimate moment.
A sense of longing swept over her so strong it almost brought her to her knees. Whatever was that all about? That feeling of yearning had certainly never happened to her before when she delivered a baby.
Perhaps once she and Mr. Faulkner-Jones were married, she might have a child or two herself. That is if he stayed in England long enough to accomplish that. Of course, then images of what they needed to do together to produce offspring popped into her mind.
She shuddered, not quite sure if she could do her wifely duty by him. He was cold, formal, and she didn’t know him very well. Since the betrothal had been tucked away in the back of her mind for years, she hadn’t given the man much thought. Now that he was in Bath, insisting on a quick wedding, she had to ask herself if this was something she wanted to do.
Too tired to give much time and attention to that issue, she followed the other women downstairs to the breakfast room. “Ah, tea. Just the thing after a long night.” She took her seat across from Addie. “Now you are a mother and an aunt. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad Michael and Noah will have cousins to grow up with.” She looked around the table at the women. “And friends, as well, with Pamela’s son Joseph, Lottie’s little Diana, as well as the two little girls upstairs.”
Pamela raised her cup of tea. “Here is to the ever-expanding Merry Misfits of Bath.”
Almost as if it had been planned, three sets of eyes swung toward Rayne, each woman with speculation and deviousness on her face.
“What?” She almost choked on her tea.
“You are next.” Lottie grinned.
Rayne shook her head. “Not me. Well, actually, I guess it will be me.” Why did her spirits drop when she thought of Mr. Faulkner-Jones?
Addie lowered her teacup and began to place food from the platters in the center of the table on her plate. With a certain attempted nonchalance that she didn’t quite pull off, she said, “Why do you guess it will be you? Have you been keeping something from us?”
“I heard that Lord Sterling has been dancing attendance on you,” Pamela added.
“Is that true?” Addie asked.
“Lord Sterling is not ‘dancing attendance’ on me. You all know the story of how he came to be my patient. Once he was able to rise from his bed, he became quite a helper. In fact, one area he has been most useful in is my lack of ability to collect monies due to me from patients. Edwin has taken on that task and has recovered quite a bit of the outstanding debts.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, wanting to pull them back. Therefore, it was no surprise when all the women said at the same time: “Edwin!?”
Rayne sighed. Now it would take forever to get the idea of her and Lord Sterling as a couple out of their minds. “Yes. We are on a first name basis since we’ve been working together. But I will tell you all this. To my knowledge he has not had a drop of spirits since I took his friends’ flasks of brandy away from them.”
“But his reputation.” Addie shook her head.
“Is no matter to me since when I said I might be the next one married, I wasn’t referring to Lord Sterling.”
Forks paused half-way to ladies’ mouths and eyebrows rose in unison. “My, aren’t you full of surprises today,” Pamela said.
She would like more than anything to avoid the story, but they were her friends and they deserved to know. She’d had so few female friends in her life that she didn’t want to lose their bond. “Years ago, my father worked out an arrangement for me to marry. Why, I have no idea.” The story did seem to become stranger each time she told it.
“How very odd. Do you have a fancy for each other?”
Rayne couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at Lottie’s question since she couldn’t imagine anyone having a ‘fancy’ for Mr. Faulkner-Jones.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, Father didn’t tell me about it until the day I left for my medical training. Although it was quite a surprise, with the excitement of beginning my studies, I relegated it to the back of my mind.”
Rayne pushed her empty plate away from her. “I met Mr. Faulkner-Jones probably three times, the most recent time a few days ago.”
Lottie leaned on her elbow, her countenance all excitement. “And?”
Rayne remembered the stiff, cold man who annoyed her, antagonized Edwin, and was now pushing for a fast wedding so he could return to his work somewhere far away from England.
Most likely he was planning a wed her, bed her, then leave her to her work sort of marriage. At one time when she never thought much about marriage, she might have accepted that. Providing she had her work she would be happy.
But then things changed. Edwin entered her life and for the first time ever, she enjoyed the company of a man. Not the derision and condescending attitude she’d received from her male counterparts at school, or the professors who were even worse. Rayne enjoyed verbal sparring with Edwin, and most of all she enjoyed his arms wrapped around her as they kissed.
“I don’t think we will suit, actually.” She surprised herself by that statement. The thought had apparently been there, but now that she’d given herself time to really contemplate it, she did not want that sort of marriage.
She looked around the table at her friends. They were all happily married. Ecstatic, truth be known. They had husbands who adored them, and now they were starting their families. A loving husband, a warm secure home, and children to raise.
Did she not deserve the same?
Edwin paced—as best he could with a broken leg—in Rayne’s office, awaiting her return. She’d sent word earlier that Mrs. Mallory had safely delivered twin girls and once she and the other ladies who had attended the birth finished breakfast she would be back at the infirmary.
It was time.
He could not allow her to marry that stiff-necked fiancé. Perhaps he was speaking too soon, but he felt as though the timing had been taken away from him once Faulkner-Jones had showed up, staring down his pointed nose at everyone. He knew in his bruised heart that given enough time he would have been on his knees begging for Rayne’s hand.
She was everything a man could want. This man, at least. At first her staunch moral code had annoyed, and then amused him. After his brandy-fogged brain cleared, however, he’d begun to see the woman beneath the doctor.
Rayne was warm, intelligent, witty, compassionate, and innocent in a way one did not expect a woman who had been educated in the medical field to be. The fact that she was beautiful and possessed a form that made his hands itch to run over her curves was a bonus.
However, he could not honestly ask her to marry him without telling her first about what had happened to Lydia. His part in the disaster. She deserved to know what a cad he’d been before he became the cad she knew. He honestly did not believe he was good enough for her, but if she were able to listen to his story and he did not see the condemnation in her eyes, there might be a chance.
The sound of the front door opening and her cheerful greeting to Walter, despite how very tired she must be, only raised his respect for her. He could tell by her walk down the corridor that she was struggling to make it as far as her bed. Perhaps he should wait until another time.
No. If he did, it would not be in consideration of her fatigue, but a way to get out of what he wanted—yea, needed—to tell her. “Good morning, Rayne.” He offered her a bright smile and was granted one in return.
“The babies are beautiful.” She laid her medical bag on the counter and rubbed her eyes. “And the mother and father are doing just fine.” Her eyes filled with tears. She covered her eyes with her hand, and he reached out to pull her against his chest.
These were tears of exhaustion. No sobbing, no wailing, just tears slowly trickling down her soft cheeks and landing on his chest, the wet spot on his shirt growing. “I am such a silly one.” She took the handkerchief he handed her and wiped her nose.
“Come, sit down for a minute. You look weary.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the sofa in the office connected to the infirmary.
“How is everything here?” She took in a shuddering breath.
“Only two patients left. Your assistant, Miss Kincaid made a list that’s on your counter of those requesting a visit from you. She told everyone on the list that it would be tomorrow before you will get to them.”
Rayne wiped her nose and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes with dark circles underneath. “Were there any emergencies among the requests?”
“No. Just the usual coughs, fevers, aches and pains.” He pushed back the hair that had fallen onto her forehead.
She nodded. “Good.”
“I suggest you find your bed. Miss Kincaid and I can stay here until you’ve had some rest and wake you if there is an emergency.”
“Why would you do that?” She eyed him curiously. “I am sure there are other things to which you must attend. I’m afraid I’ve taken up much too much of your time of late. Truth be known, I’m feeling a tad guilty.” Her slight smile twisted his stomach.
He hopped up to begin pacing again and had to grab the back of the sofa to keep from falling over. Damn the broken leg. “Don’t feel guilty. I am doing this of my own free will.” He sat back down and took her hands in his. “I owe you so much, rather than the other way around.”
She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn and guilt assailed him. This was not the time to have the conversation he wanted. It was not fair to her. He stood again and pulled her up. “Come. You need some sleep. There are things I wish to discuss with you, but not in the state you are in now.”
“I agree. Please send one of the maids to awaken me by early afternoon.” She walked with him to the staircase as he limped with his cane. “Will you be here later?”
“Yes. I have tasks to perform in your ledgers. And I am working on a project I would love to present to you when you’re feeling up to it. But all these things can wait until you’ve had some rest.”
As much as he’d like to scoop her into his arms and carry her upstairs, his leg and the presence of Walter at the door prevented any such show of gallantry. Instead, he kissed her hand and waved at the stairs. “I will see you later.”
He spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon going over the books, sending notes to medical suppliers who he suspected had been charging far too much for Rayne’s supplies.
He then continued with sending out dunning letters to those who owed Rayne quite a bit of money for her services. He was annoyed with the ones he knew had the blunt to pay the bill but ignored the notes he’d already sent. Members of the Upper Crust were notorious for neglecting their bills.
He was not against making in-person visits.
“You are still here.” Rayne stood at the doorway to the office, looking immensely better than when he’d sent her upstairs a few hours before. She’d braided her hair and wrapped the thick strands around her head like a crown. Her dress was clean and wrinkle-free.
But nothing beat the warm smile on her face, and the glow in her eyes. “I believe I will send for tea. And perhaps some sandwiches, I find I am quite hungry.” She walked to the small bell on a table by the door and rang for a maid. “Have you had luncheon?”
“Yes. I was just going to find one of the maids to awaken you. My dear, you are looking much better.”
“Thank you. I feel much better, too.” One of the maids he remembered as Mary appeared at the doorway. She curtsied at Rayne’s request and hurried away.
“I must say I enjoy having the maids about. It does make life easier.” She dropped onto the sofa next to where he sat. “No emergencies, I assume?”
“No. Everything was quiet.” He cleared his throat and decided to delve right in. “Once tea arrives, I would like to present an important issue to you for your consideration.”
“Well, you certainly have my curiosity now.” She smiled and smoothed out her skirts. “Need we wait for tea?”
It was time to speak of what had been going around in his mind all the hours he worked on the books and sent letters out. Indeed, the subject kept him awake nights and tied in knots every time he was near her.
“Perhaps not.” He turned toward her and took her small warm hands into his. “I don’t think you should marry Mr. Faulkner-Jones.”
Obviously, this was not something she’d expected. She frowned and stared at him. “Indeed? And why would you say that?”
“Because I believe you should marry me.”