He slipped in and out of consciousness, waking up to an agony beyond anything he’d ever known. The doctor was scraping away inside his stomach, intent on his task. Sam tried to hold still, but his legs shook of their own accord, his back arching from the unbearable pain. Susanna wiped his forehead as she continued to sponge out the wound, the putrid smell of pus filling the small room. Sam passed out again, grateful for the respite. Mercifully, he stayed unconscious for the grand finale. Doctor Freeman poured the boiling turpentine into the wound, then proceeded to stitch it up before applying a smelly salve of some sort and dressing the area once again.
**
Sam felt the touch of a cool hand on his forehead as he began to surface from the dark hole he’d been sucked into during the surgery. He was still in pain, but it was nothing compared to the agony he felt earlier. His legs were no longer jerking, and the inferno that had taken over his belly seemed to have cooled a bit. Susanna sat on the side of the bed, holding a cup of water to his parched lips. It was dark outside once again, and he had no idea whether it was evening or early morning.
“How do you feel, Patrick?” she asked, cupping his cheek in an unexpectedly intimate gesture. Her eyes were full of sorrow as she looked at him lying there, making Sam feel sorry for himself. Maybe he wasn’t really feeling better, and the surgery didn’t work.
“Am I dying?” he asked. He was suddenly scared, not wanting to die among strangers under a false name. No one would know what happened to him or visit his grave. Sam sighed, bracing himself for the answer.
“We won’t let you die. Father thinks he got everything out this time, and the turpentine and wine should do the rest. You are still much fevered, but not like you were earlier. Father thinks it must be working. Do you want something to eat?”
Sam just shook his head. The thought of food made him nauseous. “I just want to sleep, if that’s all right.” Susanna just nodded, touching his cheek again.
“Sleep then. I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep, then lie down on one of the empty cots so that I can be close to you if you need me.” She smiled down at him, his large hand in her small ones, tethering him to the world. Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift away, secure in the knowledge that an angel was watching over him as he slept.
Chapter 58
The milky light of dawn was just creeping across the floor and walls of the room as Sam woke up. He wasn’t sure what woke him because everything was quiet, inside and out. Even the yard below was silent, the soldiers still in their beds, getting a few more minutes of sleep before their wake-up call. The room was pleasantly cool, the air fresh and clean, despite the closed window. Doctor Freeman gave orders to air out the room twice a day, but the windows were firmly shut after that to prevent infection and the possibility of catching a chill. Sam didn’t think it was possible to catch a chill on a glorious September day, but what did he know?
Doctor Freeman checked on him during the night, shuffling in with his glasses jammed onto his face at a strange angle and his nightshirt swishing against his legs. He seemed satisfied with Sam’s progress as he took his temperature and pulse before examining the wound. He nodded in satisfaction, then quietly retreated to his own room at the end of the hall, but not before pulling the blanket over Susanna and tucking it around her shoulders.
Sam slowly turned his head, half expecting Susanna to be gone, her cot empty and neatly made, but she was still there, sleeping soundly. Her breathing was even and shallow, her face luminous in the morning light. Her cap had come off during the night, her hair fanned out on the pillow as she slept. It was a few shades darker than Abbie’s; a honey-blonde that caught the rays of the rising sun and shone like a halo around her head. Susanna’s mouth was slightly open, her full lips rosy against her pale skin. Sam tried to look away, but couldn’t. She was so lovely just lying there completely unaware of his scrutiny. The blanket that her father so carefully tucked around her had slipped off, exposing the curve of her breast against her nightdress. Sam suddenly wished that he could go over to her and adjust the blanket to keep out the chill of the morning, but even the merest motion left him sweating and pressing his hand against the wound in a fruitless effort to hold in the pain.
Sam lay back against the pillows panting, and tried not to stare at Susanna’s sleeping form, but his eyes kept sliding to her face, his lips stretching into a goofy smile. Susanna was nothing like the women Sam normally found attractive. He liked them buxom and saucy; the kind of women who weren’t shamed by their desire or need for a man. They were honest and refreshing compared to the demure misses he was normally exposed to, whose only goal was to catch a husband and breed like cattle.
Susanna was slight and graceful, her somber-colored, high-necked gowns doing little to disguise her natural beauty. She wasn’t the kind of woman who needed to display her bosom or make suggestive comments to get attention. She exuded a quiet dignity as she moved about the empty ward, helping her father and doing her best to make her patients feel cared for. Under different circumstances, Sam might have found her to be cold or repressed, but he noticed sadness in her eyes and a look of longing as she gazed out of the window, most likely wishing to return home to England rather than molder in a fort in the middle of a war she probably cared nothing about.
Susanna seemed heartbreakingly earnest and dedicated, and her concern for him touched Sam deeply; for no girl had ever really cared about his well-being. She seemed drawn to him, whether because he needed her help, or because she genuinely liked him, but he had to stay aloof for fear of causing her pain. He felt terrible enough lying to her the way he had, knowing that she believed every word and prayed for him to be reunited with his nonexistent fiancée.
And suddenly Sam wished he had a fiancée. He’d had his share of romance, but no girl ever really touched his heart. He secretly envied Finn when he saw him with Abbie. It wasn’t just physical love. Theirs was a union of souls as well, and Sam prayed that he would be blessed enough to experience something similar before he died. It was ironic that the girl who wormed her way into his soul was the daughter of an enemy surgeon, someone he could never have. Maybe in another life they could have had something special, but for now, he had to keep his distance while still taking advantage of her kindness. Sam sighed and turned to his side, suddenly feeling lonelier than he ever had in his life.
Chapter 59
Louisa Whitfield carefully opened the door and peeked into the empty hallway. It was just past noon, and the best time to slip out unnoticed. The servants were in the kitchen having their midday meal, Aunt Louisa was in the nursery putting the children down for a nap, Uncle Kit was predictably out, and Genevieve was in her room doing God knows what, probably thumbing through the Bible. Louisa tip-toed down the empty hallway and out the door, breathing a sigh of relief as she trotted down the street, melting into the midday crowd. By the time they discovered her gone, it would be too late. She would have accomplished what she set out to do. The plan was two-fold, and the first part went off without incident.
Convincing Uncle Kit to allow her to go to church to pray for forgiveness had been easy enough, although he was slightly taken aback by her desire to attend All-Hollows-by-the-Tower church rather than the one they normally attended for Sunday services, but Louisa had her reasons. Genevieve had been surprised as well, especially when ordered to accompany her, but she didn’t protest and did as she was told, the silly little mouse. Louisa thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t grown up in a convent. The poor girl seemed to have virtually no free will. She was so used to being told what to do that she simply complied, never questioning the order.
Louisa had to admit that she felt sorry for the girl, but compassion would have to wait. She had more important things to do. She only hoped that Genevieve hadn’t figured out the real purpose of their visit to the church, and wouldn’t feel morally obligated to report it to her aunt and uncle. Louisa thought she’d been discreet, but Genevieve was more observant than people gave her c
redit for, and her knowledge of herbs and medicines certainly didn’t help in this case. Louisa pulled on her hood and proceeded to Tom’s lodgings on foot.
She’d never been out on her own and felt a thrill of excitement at the unexpected feeling of freedom. She could just keep going and no one would know where she’d gone. But where would she go alone and pregnant, with no money of her own? Foolish idea, really. Louisa looked around to see if anyone noticed her, but the street was full of people going about their business. Sleek carriages fought for space as cumbersome wagons loaded with produce and barrels of fish made their way down the narrow road. People walked carefully on the muck-covered sidewalk careful not to slip on rotting cabbage leaves and apples, periodically glancing upward in case some overzealous maid decided to empty a chamber pot onto their head. One could never be too careful, especially in Blackfriars.
Louisa walked past the Blackfriars Theater, quickly glancing at the handwritten notice to check what play was to be performed that week. How she’d love to attend the theater, but Uncle Kit had kept her under lock and key for the past week, allowing her an hour a day in the garden to get some fresh air and exercise. Even Theo had been turned away, told by Uncle Kit that she was unwell and needed to stay abed for a few days. Louisa had never felt so frustrated or alone. At least her parents were still away, which was a blessing in disguise. By the time they returned from France, everything would have blown over, giving them no reason to be displeased with her. Everything would be resolved today.
A lovely breeze blew off the river, making Louisa’s use of a cloak more acceptable. She didn’t want anyone to see her face or know that she had visited Tom’s lodgings. She’d been there several times while poor Genevieve walked along the riverbank, watching the packet boats crisscrossing the Thames back and forth, and the elaborate barges of the wealthy gliding down the sparkling waters on fine days, music drifting to the shore as they were entertained by players and mummers. Genevieve was strangely drawn to the river, refusing to go anywhere else while she waited for Louisa. Louisa had even offered her money for a ticket to a play, but the silly girl wouldn’t take it. Maybe it had something to do with her mother’s body being found floating in the river, but that was just morbid.
Louisa’s thoughts turned to Tom and her impending visit to his rooms. He wasn’t expecting her, but hopefully he’d be at home. This might be her only chance to see him alone and put her plan into action. Funny how she’d meant to teach Tom a lesson and show him what he gave up by not marrying her, but instead the joke was on her. She’d learned a valuable lesson about playing with fire and getting burned. Tom would get away unscathed, but her life would be forever tainted by doubt and fear.
What would Theo do if he ever found out about her betrayal? Aunt Lou and Uncle Kit would never breathe a word, but what about Tom? He would be able to hold the secret over her head for the rest of her life, and once her child was born, things would be even worse. Thomas Gaines was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He made his dislike of Theo very clear, so what if he implied to Theo that the child wasn’t his or better yet, decided to blackmail Louisa into paying him for his silence? Tom made sure to have the finest suits of clothes and trinkets when he came to Court, but judging by the location and state of his rooms, he was short on funds. Having an extra income from a secret source would not only line his pockets, but bring him a perverse sense of satisfaction while Louisa’s life could be ruined forever. He’d proudly told her how he blackmailed one of his employer’s associates, having been privy to information that could ruin the man. No, that would never do. She couldn’t give him that kind of power over her.
Louisa patted her pocket before knocking on the door. The little pouch was still there, her ticket to freedom, but did she dare use it? Thinking thoughts of revenge was one thing, but carrying it out something completely different. She never intended for things to go this far, but he had been so charming and persistent at the start, sending her letters full of pretty verses and lovely promises, berating himself for the fool he’d been for not appreciating her when he had the chance. Louisa had wanted nothing more than to heal her wounded pride, but instead she allowed him to use and humiliate her, and turn her into a willing participant in his little games. Tom had played her so skillfully that she never even realized that she was simply being used and manipulated. He wanted to fuck her into submission, bringing her to her knees and showing her that she was no better than a whore at heart; ashamed, but hungry for anything he could give her.
Louisa sighed as she stood in front of the door, her trembling hand raised to the iron knocker, a last opportunity to change her mind and flee. Her head knew the truth about Tom, but her heart still needed convincing, and that was ultimately the purpose of the visit. Tom’s response would decide everything, sealing his fate and hers.
**
Tom opened the door himself, surprised to find Louisa on his doorstep in the middle of the afternoon, a self-satisfied smirk playing about his lips as he ushered her in. Louisa made sure to cross to the other side of the room before he could kiss her or slide his hand between her legs, awakening the surge of desire that would no doubt land her in his bed, the purpose of her visit forgotten. She wouldn’t let it happen. This time she would be in control, and she would bring him to his knees.
“What are you doing here?” he asked carefully, watching her with narrowed eyes. Normally, she went straight to him, but this time she was keeping her distance, alerting him to the shift in power. Tom smiled a predatory smile. Whatever she had planned, he was ready to play.
“I had to see you, Tom. Lord Sheridan has forbidden me to leave the house, but I slipped out and must return before I’m missed,” she said guiltily, looking at Tom from under her lashes.
“What have you done to deserve such treatment from your uncle? He’s normally an understanding man.” Tom sat down, inviting Louisa to sit next to him, but she remained standing. She needed to see his face.
“I’m with child, Tom, and it’s yours.” Louisa held her breath as she blurted out her news, hoping against hope that Tom would surprise her and offer words of love and comfort, but Tom just leaned back, cocking his head to the side, as if watching an amusing play. He gave Louisa a lazy smile, studying her for a few agonizing moments before finally answering. “Sweetheart, I greatly enjoyed our trysts, but you could have done the same with any number of men. Your bastard is your problem.”
Louisa felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach by a horse; the cold look in his eyes cutting her to the bone.
“You said you loved me, Tom.” She didn’t mean to let him see her distress, but her voice shook and her eyes filled with tears, betraying the hurt.
“All men say that to women they hope to seduce, but it’s not always true.” He continued watching her with an expression of wry amusement as if trying to gauge what it was she really wanted from him. “Were you hoping that I’d declare my undying love for you and offer marriage? I’m afraid you have a bit of a problem, my little dove,” he said, smiling cruelly. He was mocking her, his blue eyes twinkling with sarcasm as he studied her pale face. “My, my, what will little Louisa do?”
“Actually, I don’t have a problem,” Louisa replied haughtily. “I’m to be married to Lord Carew.” She held her head high, willing herself not to cry anymore. She’d gotten the answer she came for.
“Ah, I see Lord Sheridan didn’t waste any time. He’s a clever man; no wonder Buckingham is so enamored of him, in more ways than one.” He smirked as if he knew something she didn’t.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. It’s nothing to concern you, but what might be of concern is your sweet lord finding out about what you’re really like. Does he make love to you tenderly, or does he think you are still a virgin and is looking forward to deflowering you on your wedding night? What a surprise it will be when he realizes you’ve a full belly already.”
Tom laughed, his face con
torted by malice. “Oh, how I will enjoy watching you squirm, sweeting, especially when you will do anything I ask to keep your dirty, little secret. Now, let me see, would I like to keep fucking you, or would I like you to pay me for my silence?” He furrowed his brow as if in deep thought, then smiled viciously. “I think I might enjoy both, now that I think of it. We will discuss the details of our arrangement another day. Now, I must get back to Whitehall; Lord Seton will be expecting me. It was kind of you to call.” Tom got up from the settee, obviously ready to show Louisa the door.
“Wait, Tom. Will you at least have a glass of wine with me to celebrate my upcoming marriage?” Louisa asked with a sweet smile, shocking him into silence. “I would really like that. You’ve made your position clear, and I will do whatever you ask.” If Tom seemed taken aback by her change of tack, he made no comment, just shrugged his shoulders.
“All right, but then you have to go. I’ll get the wine.” He turned toward the kitchen, but Louisa held up her hand.
“Let me. I know where you keep the wine. I won’t be a moment. Here, sit down.” She gave him a winning smile before disappearing into the dingy little kitchen. The wine was exactly where she expected it to be and she emptied the contents of her pouch into it, swirling the wine before picking up two pewter cups and bringing them back to the front room. Tom was watching her as she poured the wine, handing him a cup.
“May you be happy in your marriage, Louisa,” Tom said, dripping sarcasm as he raised his glass and drained it in one gulp. He made a face as he peered into the cup. “The wine tastes bitter.”
“Yes, it does, but what do you expect from cheap wine? Uncle Kit keeps a good cellar,” Louisa said, putting on her cloak. “Well, goodbye Tom. We won’t be seeing each other again.”
A Game of Shadows Page 25