John sat straight up in his chair and searched his mind for the woman in front of him. He remembered the night he had met his wife as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. He remembered what he had been doing, what she had been wearing. And he remembered the way he had felt when the beautiful woman had smiled at him.
But the rest of that night had faded away. If there had been a woman with Imogene the night he met her, he couldn't recall it now. He certainly didn't recall being with Phillip Sheiling or anyone else that night. Once he had met Imogene, everything else had ceased to matter to him.
"I'm sorry," he said, and shook his head. "I don't recall meeting you. And I'm afraid your husband and I were little more than acquaintances."
She laughed softly in a way that he thought sounded insincere. "I'm not surprised. Phillip had a way of exaggerating his friendships with certain people. And as for not remembering me, I don't think you or Imogene saw anyone else after meeting each other. I know Imogene didn't. She talked of nothing but you from that night on."
John’s whole world came to a stop as memories of his wife started flooding back to him. Memories and guilt. Guilt because he could no longer recall her face. He hadn't been able to for several years now.
Everything else about the night they met he could recall with perfect clarity. Even their short courtship and mad dash to the border were indelibly burned into his memory. But over time, with no picture of her, his memories of her face had faded.
He knew he still loved her. He always would. But his vendetta to avenge his wife had changed, transformed into another kind of calling. One that sought justice for those that the courts and society had forgotten. A cause that had been a passion of Imogene's.
On the day he had finally discovered the name of her last attacker, he had felt guilty because he tried to recall her image and couldn't. It had eaten at his soul and driven him to recklessness for the first time, which was how he had been discovered meddling in Reginald Stoughton's business affairs.
"I'm so very sorry," he said. It was so inane and late that he felt foolish for uttering it.
"No," she replied, and he felt her hand cover his. "It is I who should be apologizing. I've brought back painful memories and I am so very sorry. I just wanted you to know how much she was loved and how deeply I feel for your loss."
John turned away from her and felt his lips quiver ever so slightly. Once he regained his composure, he turned back. "Mrs. Sheiling, Alison, thank you for your condolences. And I would like to offer mine to you as well."
He heard her sniffing and waited for her to regain her own composure. When she grew quiet, he slipped his hand out from under hers and covered it with his.
"I only knew Imogene a very short time. As compared to the time you knew her. If... if it is not too painful, would you mind telling me about her? About the girl she had been and the woman she grew into?"
A soft laugh and another sniff drifted to him as she covered his hand with her other one. "Only if you will tell me about the woman she became with you. We both became so tied up in our own romances that we rarely saw each other the last months of her life. In fact, until Katie told me about it, I hadn't even known that she had married you."
He laughed and fought his own battle against the tears that were threatening to run wild. "Yes, I think I would like to tell you about her and our courtship."
And they did. They sat forever in the sun trading stories of the woman they had both known, loved, and lost.
Chapter 5
John was in love for the second time in his life. But what he felt for Alison was different than what he had felt for Imogene. He didn't doubt the feelings he had for his wife, or that it had been love that had driven him to act so rashly back then.
But what he was feeling for Alison was different. More profound. Much less reckless. At least that is what he was telling himself. And it wasn't even her looks that had captivated him. Nor had it been her taking care of him for the last two months that had drawn him to her. It had been her indomitable spirit, and her kindness and compassion. Not just for him but for everyone around her.
John hadn't needed his eyesight to hear her talking to the staff. Caring for them. Worrying about their health and wellbeing. And he loved the way she spoke to him about her two daughters. It warmed him in a way he had not felt in more years than he could count.
But what had drawn him to her more than anything was her loving nature, and her eagerness to converse with him on any and every subject. They shared so many things that he couldn't help falling in love with her. Even though he knew they could never be anything other than friends. Not with his secret life as a criminal investigator, though that life was still in question. At least until the bandages came off and he learned if the blindness was permanent or not.
And today was the day of truth. He had mentally prepared himself for a number of things. The first was not regaining his eyesight. Which was a real possibility, one Ali had flatly refused to consider.
Suddenly the last bandage fell off and bright light blinded him. Then the blurriness and bright light slowly faded, and images began to take form in front of him. Or at least in his left eye. His right one was still a bit blurry, but the form of the person bending over him was clear enough. The bald head of a man came into focus first. His face creased in consternation as he awaited John's verdict on whether or not he could see.
"Doctor Langton?" he asked.
The man's face lit up and he beamed down at John. "Yes, yes, I am. And can I assume you can see me?"
John smirked at the man and replied, "I can if you are bald with brown eyes."
The man's smile deepened. "That I am young man. That I am."
John covered his left eye and squinted. Then did the same with his right eye. "My right eye is still extremely blurry, Dr. Langton," he told the man.
The doctor’s smile faded, and he nodded thoughtfully. "There was a bit more damage to that side, Mr. Netterman. It might take it a little longer to recover. We will have to wait until all the swelling is gone before we know the full loss of vision in that eye. Only time will tell for sure."
The news was a little hard to take. But as he hadn’t known if he would ever see again, John was willing to take what he was given at this point.
Glancing over the doctor's shoulder, he saw the large man he had saved, the Duke of Belfort. And tucked under his arm was a tall, beautiful redheaded woman he assumed was the man's wife. "Your Grace," he said and nodded. It is a pleasure to see you again. And I do mean see."
"The pleasure is ours," Gabe replied.
The blurry figure of a woman had been hovering just in the periphery of his bad eye as he had spoken to the others in the room. He was refraining from looking in her direction but wasn't sure why.
Probably because there was a part of him that had wanted this first visual meeting with her to be private, but that wasn't to be. So, he slowly turned to her and froze upon seeing the ethereal creature in front of him.
His imagination had painted all kinds of images of Mrs. Alison Sheiling in his mind. Short. She was at least a foot or more shorter than he was. So, he knew that much about her. She was also very strong for a woman her size. With very large pliable breasts and soft full hips that she often pressed against him as she helped him from one place to the other.
Consequently, a picture of a sturdy governess kind of woman had emerged in his mind. One with light brown hair, shot through with silver streaks and pulled back in a practical bun behind her head. Soft kind brown eyes that bespoke of the wealth of knowledge he had discovered in her. And she would have a mature woman's figure. One that had born two children and nursed hundreds of soldiers back to health. Yes, he had created a definite image of his angel in his mind. And he was going to like her no matter what the reality was.
But reality very nearly knocked him on his arse.
Alison Sheiling did not have brown hair nor brown eyes. Nor did she look anything like a governess or even a nurse. She was the
antithesis of any of the stodgy incarnations he had envisioned.
Bright sky-blue eyes beamed back at him with a merry twinkle. She had a small oval face with a pert little nose that turned up at the end. And full bow-shaped luscious lips curved up in a breath-taking smile.
"Ali," he breathed.
The smile grew. "Hello John. It is nice to finally meet you. Again."
He felt his own face split in a wide smile. One that he knew probably made him look like a complete and utter idiot, but he didn't care. The vision before him was quite simply ravishing. Beautiful. Angelic. The earthbound embodiment of the angel he had equated her to on many occasions.
Her honey-blonde hair was artfully coiffed atop her head with enticing curls framing her face. Even without looking, he knew the woman sitting on the side of his bed had an alluring body with beguiling curves.
He swallowed the half-dozen or so comments he wanted to say. For the first time since he had begun seeing girls as desirable young women, he found himself tongue-tied and unable to form a coherent sentence.
"Hell-hello," he finally got out. Without conscious thought his hand rose and gingerly touched her face. "I just wanted to..." His eyes roamed over her face, stopping on her lips before coming back to her eyes. "I needed to make sure you were real."
A tingling shot down from her cheek to her heart, causing a peculiar fluttering there and in other areas she had not felt in a long time. Unbidden, her hand came up and clasped his and held it to her face. She smiled back at him as she marveled at the beauty and kindness she saw in the soft brown of his eyes.
"I'm real," she whispered back. "Just as real as you."
"Ahem," she heard Doctor Langton clearing his throat, and only then remembered that there were others in the room with them.
"Doctor Langton," she heard Katie say way too brightly, "would you care for a cup of tea?"
"A what?" Langton snapped. Alison could hear the annoyance in the man's tone and knew he was not happy at what he was seeing. The man was a bit of a fuddy-duddy when it came to the hospital staff and the nurses that worked there. He saw himself as a father figure and all the women as his responsibility to protect from the unwanted attentions of the patients.
"Tea, Doctor Langton. Brown liquid. Brewed from leaves we import from China," was Katie's impertinent response. Alison had known Katie long enough to know that her friend was obviously not happy with the doctor either.
"I know what..." The man's angry reply was quickly cut off when the duke took a threatening step forward. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the doctor's throat bobbing up and down as he shrank in on himself. She felt sorry for the man, but not enough to rescue him, as she was a little perturbed with him herself.
"Capital idea," he squeaked out. "Mrs. Sheiling, I believe we'll leave our patient to rest for a little while. Care to join us for some tea before you head home to your children?"
The prudish old geezer. She knew what the man was about and didn't care for it one bit. She wasn't a green girl right out of the school room. She was seven and thirty, with two daughters, and had been married for fifteen years. But what upset her the most was the beseeching look in John's dark brown eyes. He wanted her to stay as much as she needed to.
Ignoring the doctor and his request, she addressed her friend directly. "No thank you, your Grace," Alison said, stressing Katie's title for the benefit of the doctor. "I'll just make sure Mr. Netterman is settled before I come down."
"Mrs. Sheiling, that would not be proper. Not without someone else present," Langton said, a bit offended.
Fire leapt inside her and she rounded on the doctor with alacrity. "Doctor Langton, just who do you think has been taking care of Mr. Netterman these last two months?" She rose from the bed and began slowly stalking the man as he backpedaled across the room. "Me," she answered for him. "I am a widow, not some debutante just out of the school room. And John, Mister Netterman, is an old friend of mine. And I will not—do you hear me—not have mine or his reputation impugned by you and your torrid suggestions. Is. That. Clear?"
The man had backed out the door by the time Alison had finished. She shut the door in his face and turned to face the others in the room. Each of the people had different looks on their faces. Gabe's was contorted with his restraint to keep from laughing out loud. Katie was beaming like a proud mama who had just seen her child take her first steps. And John was smiling with a wonderment that warmed her heart and caused butterflies to do cartwheels in her stomach.
"What?" she asked. Alison could feel her cheeks heating up and hear the defensiveness in her voice.
"Nothing. Nothing at all Ali," Katie chirped, causing Alison's cheeks to flame more. She watched as her friend took hold of her husband's hand and dragged him toward the door. "I'll have a tray sent up with tea and biscuits. And don't worry about Doctor Langton, Gabe will take care of him."
"I will?" he replied, and glanced from Alison to his wife. "Oh. Yes, I'll take care of Doctor Langton. Thanks to my wife and friends at the War Department, I am now on the Board of Regents for the hospital. I can assure you he won't be any trouble at all."
She wasn't actually worried. Unlike many of the women who worked at the hospital, she was a volunteer and not dependent on the position for her livelihood. Alison would miss the work if the man made trouble, but she and her daughters would be fine without the job. So she just smiled and thanked the two of them as they none-to-discreetly slipped out of the room and closed the door softly behind them.
"Subtle," John said from behind her.
Without turning around, she replied, "About as subtle as a cavalry charge." For the last week or so Alison had gotten the feeling that Katie was doing a bit of matchmaking between her and John. Now she knew for certain.
His soft laughter called to her. The man quite simply took her breath away. Despite the crooked nose and multitude of scars across his face, he was a good-looking man. Not the Greek god kind that most girls and women pandered to, but more typical English good looks.
"Do you mind?" he asked gently.
Her heart fluttered and a tingling wafted downward. She turned and smiled back at him. "No. Not really."
A shadow passed over his face and he suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. "I fear I may be the cause of this."
Alison startled and narrowed her eyes at him. "How so?"
He swallowed and glanced up. When he looked back at her she saw a determined light enter his eyes. "I'm afraid I may have given the duchess, Katie, the idea I was interested in you. In your absence I've been asking quite a number of questions about you, about your life. And about your daughters."
Her heart lurched again and she swallowed the retorts she almost blurted out. She had no right being irritated with him for asking questions about her. She bit her lip and then confessed, "And I may have given her the same impression, Mr. Netterman. I've been asking a few of my own questions about you."
His smile grew, and so did the fluttering in her belly. "Then it wasn't just my imagination. There is a connection between the two of us. You feel it as well."
Oh dear God in heaven. How did she respond to his question? Was there a connection between the two of them? Yes. At least she hoped so.
While his fever had raged, she hadn't allowed herself time to think of anything but keeping him alive. But as the weeks passed, she began remembering her thoughts about finding a lover the day Katie had asked for her help in caring for John Netterman.
At the time, it had only been a quiet longing. Something to dream and fantazies about when she was alone. After all, she still had the girls to worry about. But Alison was quite simply tired of being alone.
Consequently, the idea of finding a discreet lover had grown and taken root as she had cared for John. Her subconscious kept telling her that this man was providence. Fate had neatly dropped him in her lap, as if they were meant to be lovers. And over the weeks she had become increasingly fascinated and drawn to him.
In many ways, John was th
e antithesis of her husband. Phillip had been a tall man. Not as tall as John, but taller than most Englishmen. He had also been an incredibly handsome man. The living embodiment of the Greek statues she had once seen, and one of the most amicable men she had ever met. Everyone's best friend.
Physically, John was very different. More than a foot taller than Alison, he was handsome without being dazzlingly so. Or he had been before the horrible beating he had endured. Now his nose was broken, and his face was a jigsaw of small and larger scars. Some would heal, others would never go away. Especially the one that slashed across his right eye.
His body was much more muscular than Phillip’s had been. But muscular in a way that did not intimidate her. More importantly, from what she had learned about him, he was a very serious and conscientious solicitor. One who quietly took care of his business without drawing too much attention to himself. The ideal type of man for a widow to take as a lover.
"Yes," she whispered, and then swallowed. She couldn't believe she was actually thinking about broaching the subject with him. She hadn't initially considered doing it at this time, but he had more or less brought the subject up, so why not? "I have felt something as well."
His face lit up and a huge smile turned up the ends of his lips. His very kissable lips. "Then you would be open to me courting you?"
Ice water crashed into her with the force of a musket ball. "Courting." It was what Phillip had done nineteen years ago. Something she would never allow again.
"No, Mister Netterman. John. I have no wish to be courted ever again."
His eyebrows snapped together and his face lost some of its glow. "I'm..." He cocked his head to the side and regarded her more closely. "I meant no insult, Mrs. Sheiling. I just thought..."
Alison threw her hand up to stop him. She didn't want him finishing whatever he was about to say. But how did she go about explaining herself to this man? They had gotten to know each other rather well over the last couple of weeks, but they were still virtual strangers.
Alison's Scandalous Affair (The Fallen Angels NOVELLA series Book 1) Page 4