Secrets of the Heart (22 page)

Madeline deliberately seated herself across from him, rather than beside him, and Devlin chafed at the distance. “Lady Madeline, I fear I’ve offended you with my neglect of late.”

“Have you?” she said coolly, giving away nothing.

Annoyance collided with desire. “You know I could not leave the hospital. I told you that when we returned from Gretna. That is why I wrote to you. Langford has been demanding.”

“And you are
Lord Ravensmoore
,” she said coldly
.
“Why must you pursue this profession with such passion and put up with that awful doctor? It is beneath you. It is he who should serve you.”

Phineas returned with cucumber finger sandwiches, lemonade, and a pot of tea. Devlin ignored the refreshments. He could not take his eyes off Madeline. But she avoided his gaze.

“What is on your mind, Lady Madeline?” he asked gently.

She shrugged. “I don’t wish to burden you with my concerns.”

“I would not feel listening to your concerns a burden.”

She looked at him as if to gauge his sincerity, then the words came with a rush. “I don’t know where to start. There is so much. There’s Vale. I don’t trust him.” She told him everything that had happened at Ashcroft.

“I think you are right not to trust him. What you describe at Ashcroft are abuses that must be reported. I will speak to Langford. He’ll know what to do. It’s not right. It’s not right at all, and I worry about you being there. You put yourself at risk.”

“I’m just so worried about Amanda. Someone must help her. I’m afraid she might die.”

“I promise you that I will convey your concerns to Dr. Langford. It will be investigated further.”

“And then there’s my father.”

“Do you want to talk about your father?” He studied the look in her eyes and made a decision. “Your father was severely injured when he came to the Guardian Gate.”

“I know.” She stood and walked to the mantel, placing a hand upon it as she gazed into the cold fireplace. “But you were there.”

“You don’t understand.” Devlin felt panic strike and begin to crumble the walls of his heart. “I did everything in my power to stop the bleeding.”

She turned to face him, eyes blazing. “Did you?”

“Your father fought hard to live. I did everything I knew to stop the bleeding, but it was impossible. His life just slipped away in a matter of moments.”

She took a step toward him. “Is there anything you can think of that you should have done and didn’t?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But the branch that skewered your father’s leg hit an artery in the thigh. When Langford left to attend another patient, we thought the bleeding was under control. Your father complained of the pain and asked me to loosen the tourniquet. I didn’t do it because it was far too dangerous, and as I attended another patient nearby, he loosened the tourniquet. I couldn’t stop the bleeding then.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “Leave now.”

“Lady Madeline, he was in pain and did what he thought would relieve that pain. He couldn’t make a reasonable decision. He was barely conscious. But I did turn my back for a few minutes to attend another. Maybe—”

“Don’t say anymore.” Madeline reached out and braced herself against a chair.

Devlin held out his hand. “Let me help you.”

“I believe you’ve done enough. I’ve decided to take a holiday with Lady Gilling. I need to get away from here. I must get away.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted you to understand.”

“Don’t.” She sank into the chair, her hands shaking in her lap.

“I’d hoped you’d understand.” He saw the confusion in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save him.”

“I do not want to see you again.”

“You mean you don’t want to be with me.” Devlin studied her carefully. “I thought you had feelings for me.” He knelt next to her. “You are building a wall, my lady. A wall to separate us. Why? I thought we’d developed an affection for one another. A starting place at least.”

He watched her intake of breath.

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

He saw the answer in her eyes, read it in her situation. Her father had been so strong. If he hadn’t removed the tourniquet, would he have lived? If Devlin had discovered the blood loss quicker, would it have made a difference? She needed to blame someone.

“I am not your father,” he said, trying to keep his emotions under control, “and I am not Vale. I care for you, Lady Madeline. I will never betray your trust, but I am not perfect and will not pretend to be so. Can you forgive me for any mistakes you believe I may have made?” He covered her hands in his own. “Don’t run from me.”

“I’m not running from you. I just explained.”

Devlin thought he knew what she was trying to say. All his insecurities resurfaced. “It’s because of my decision to practice medicine, isn’t it? It’s all too much for you.”

“The memories would always be there. I want to live a normal life. I want to have children. What kind of life would it be for them? Reminded each day of sickness and sorrow and suffering?”

“It is not all that! It is a life of kindness, of service.” His hands clenched into fists. “What about your needs? What do you desire?”

“You don’t understand, Ravensmoore.”

He continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “Then there are my peers. The
ton
does not understand, but I thought you might. It would be difficult to explain though, wouldn’t it?” He stood and walked toward the doorway.

Madeline rose from the chair. “Wait. There is so much happening in my life. It’s not just you.”

Devlin turned back to her. “All evidence to the contrary, my dear. It is who I was, who I am, and what I’m called to be.” He couldn’t think clearly anymore, and he couldn’t listen further. He knew what she must be feeling. He doubted his decision to be a physician at times himself.

God, what am I to do? Choose between Madeline and medicine?
“You’ve made yourself clear, Lady Madeline. Good day.” He turned away, nearly colliding with the butler, who quickly sidestepped him.

“Tell Mr. Melton when he returns that I was called away,” he told Phineas. Without waiting for an answer, he strode out of the manor.

Devlin collected his mount, then recklessly galloped across the countryside in the direction of York. Concern for Hippocrates finally made him pull up and dismount near a creek, where the animal could drink and rest.

“What in blazes was that all about?” he yelled to the heavens. He kicked a rock out of his path like a small boy having a temper tantrum. Hippocrates looked up from the creek, then returned to quenching his thirst.

Devlin sat on the ground and raked both hands through his hair.
Maybe I’m going mad. I carry the blood of madness in my veins, and Madeline wants to have children. The children I dare not dream about.
“God, help me to know what to do.”

C
HAPTER 14

Hell is wherever heaven is not.

—S
EVENTEENTH
-C
ENTURY
P
ROVERB

D
EVLIN RETCHED INTO
the basin Mrs. Hogarth held.

“I hope yer visit to the Grey Fox Inn will teach ye a lesson, Lord Ravensmoore.”

“Shhh.” Devlin squinted up at Mrs. Hogarth. She stood over him, looking like she’d just discovered her husband in bed with another woman.

“Humph, I bet ye had a row with Lady Madeline. Why is it, every time a gent has a quarrel with his lady he can’t think proper? Believes drink will solve the problem.” She dumped the contents of the basin into a bucket.

“It seemed a good idea at the time.” He lay on his back and shaded his eyes with his arm. “Can’t you shut out that infernal light? It’s about to do me in.”

“Appears to me ye already did yerself in. But because yer sufferin’ in grand style, I’ll have mercy on ye, though I know not why.” She laid a cool damp cloth across his forehead.

“Ah. Sweet relief.”

Mrs. Hogarth continued unabated. “Yer old enough to know better, and a doctor ta boot. I’m surprised a person of yer caliber would indulge so deeply in the devil’s brew.”

“I wasn’t in the mood to consider the consequences.” Devlin heard Mrs. Hogarth shuffle about the room. The light dimmed a bit. Tempting fate, he cautiously opened one eye. “Have mercy.”

“Oh no, not again.” She ran and held the basin for him as he vomited what little contents remained in his stomach.

“Arrrgh.”

“Arrrgh is right,” Mrs. Hogarth growled. “I’m not a nursemaid.”

Devlin groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head. “Leave me to die in peace.”

“I’m leavin’. But I’ll be bringin’ ye back a remedy of me own.”

Devlin’s gut clenched at the thought of swallowing anything. He prayed death would come quickly and drifted back to sleep.

True to her word, Mrs. Hogarth returned all too soon.

“Do you have to be so loud in your comings and goings?” Devlin complained.

“I’m quiet as a mouse. ’Tis the bangin’ in yer head and the moanin’ in yer gut. Here, drink this down,” she ordered.

“What is it?” he turned his head, and bolts of pain streaked through his brain. His stomach churned again. He tried to focus on her offering.

“It’s good for what ails ye. Now, be a good patient and drink it down.”

Devlin forced himself up on his elbows and stared suspiciously at the thick yellow liquid tinged with red. His stomach lurched.

“Hurry and drink it down,” directed Mrs. Hogarth, “and hold yer nose while yer at it.”

“Why?” He eyed the concoction suspiciously.

“Because it don’t hold the odor of roses, that’s why.”

Devlin pushed himself up to the side of the bed and accepted his landlady’s largess. Holding his nose with one hand, he gulped the drink.

“Yer turnin’ an interesting shade of green,” she said, unable to contain a giggle.

Devlin felt as though he’d retch again. “Remind me to teach you something about bedside comportment,” he said, trying not to gag.

“Why? Yer sick by yer own fool hand. Ye don’t think I’d treat a truly sick man like this, do ye?”

Devlin gave her a lopsided grin despite his condition. “You’re a hard woman at times, Mrs. Hogarth. You’re right.” He scrunched his face up at the sour taste that remained in his mouth after swallowing the tonic. “What did I just drink?”

“Yer better off not knowin’, but I promise, ye’ll be feelin’ better in no time at all. Now, just rest a bit more, and I’ll bring ye somethin’ to eat later.” Mrs. Hogarth wiped her hands on her apron, took the glass from Devlin, and bustled out of the room.

“I don’t think I’ll be eating much today,” he called after her, too weak to be certain she’d heard him. He took her advice though and slowly laid his head on the pillow.

Much to his surprise, he awoke later to the sounds of someone in his room. He popped open one eye and spied a young boy filling a tub with hot water. “Who are you?” Devlin asked, hoarsely.

“James, sir,” he said smiling. “Me uncle’s Edward Hogarth. He’s taken me under his wing.”

Devlin gingerly sat up on the side of the bed, inspecting the lad. “And why is that?”

“Me mum says I’m gettin’ too big for me britches, and he should help do somethin’ about it since me pa’s dead.” James headed to the door. He turned and looked at Devlin. “I’ll be bringin’ another bucket, and then you can have yerself a nice warm bath.”

Devlin smiled, thinking James reminded him of someone, himself perhaps. Or maybe it was just that all young boys got into trouble sooner or later; it was just sooner for James.

The interruption of the boy filling the tub had temporarily distracted Devlin from himself and his sad state. Reevaluating his physical being, he realized Mrs. Hogarth was right. He did feel better.

Devlin slowly stood, his hands pressed to both temples, and focused on the tub to prevent the room from spinning. He tested the water with one hand. The temperature was so inviting that he quickly stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the tub, sinking low, with his knees above the water. A satisfied groan slipped from his throat.

The door creaked open after a quick rap of warning. “I see yer better,” Mrs. Hogarth said from the doorway, hands on hips and a wide grin on her face. “James is on his way, but said ye was still in bed. I thought I best check.”

Devlin slouched down as far as he could in the small tub. “Mrs. Hogarth, I would appreciate you turning your back. I’m not used to bathing in front of women. Have you lost your delicate senses?”

“I apologize to ye, Lord Ravensmoore. I lost me delicate senses years ago. It’s good to see ye still have yers.” She chortled and turned her back. “I’ll bring up a tray for ye when yer done bathin’.”

“Just have young James bring the tray, Mrs. Hogarth. That way I won’t surprise you, or
my
delicate senses.”

She quickly left the room, a wake of laughter floating on the air. Left alone, Devlin’s thoughts drifted to Madeline.