The house stretched with elegance in all directions. Music rose from a room to his right, another massive room opened to his left, and a grand stairway ascended in the center, curving up into the recesses of the house. A figure on the stairs brought his breathing to a full stop.
Catherine.
His Catherine.
He’d always known she was beautiful, even from the first moment they met on the streets of Ednesbury, but never had he imagined something as breathtaking as her in ravishing red.
He finally understood why every social circle within Ednesbury’s vicinity spoke of Catherine Dougall’s infallible beauty. Why men waited in lines to enjoy her company. Why a man would hover on the brink of impropriety to gain her favor.
And this vision of beauty was smiling at him – the bookish, introverted, nearly penniless surgeon. The word ‘captivated’ took on new meaning. She bypassed the crowd congregating outside the ballroom and made her way to his side, bringing her lavender scent and lovely glow with her.
Her lips were tinted a darker shade, like a forbidden fruit. He placed his palm to his chest and took in every detail. Overwhelmed.
“You look quite fetching in your tails, Dr. Ross.” Her gaze of approval kindled a deeper smolder in his chest. “A definite improvement from your surgeon’s coat.”
“Catherine.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, never taking his eyes from hers. “If I’ve been hesitant to respond, it’s only because I fail to find words accurate enough to describe how beautiful you are.”
Her cheeks darkened. “The tails must bring out your romantic side.” She meant to brush off the intensity of the compliment, but the impact lingered in her sapphire eyes. “You should wear tails more often.”
“And you should wear evening gowns more often.”
“I’d be happy to comply.” Her brow peaked with her smile. “As long as you’ll remain my escort.”
He drew her hand into the crook of his arm. “To which I’d be happy to comply.”
Their gazes held for much longer than appropriate before she turned to the room. “What do you think of Beacon House?”
He pulled his gaze from her face and took another look around the entry as they followed the masses into a room filled with music and dancing. His throat tightened. Catherine sent him a look from her periphery, a question in the tilt of her grin.
David swallowed through the tension and gestured toward the ballroom floor. “Would you do me the honor of continuing our dancing lesson in a more formal setting, Miss Dougall?”
“Oh.” Her smile fell and she slipped her arm free from his. “I thought you meant to choose one of the other ladies. Not me.” Her palm flattened against the bare skin beneath her neck. “I don’t know that you should stand up with me in front of these higher society couples. If they don’t know of my indiscretion already, they might learn of it and refuse funding—”
“Should I reiterate my earlier argument?” He regained her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles and tugging her back toward him. “I care about you, not their assumptions.” He stopped her protest with a shake of his head. “Dance with me, Catherine. I have no intention of dancing with anyone else, so if I’m to learn, you must be my teacher.”
She hesitated and glanced about the room before releasing a sigh. “With a solid argument such as that, how can I refuse?” Her chin tipped, teasing fire returning to her eyes.
He guided her onto the floor, fighting against his own insecurities beside such an expert in the social sphere. No doubt, she’d been through dozens of these experiences, standing in the middle of a room with people tucked against each wall, staring at those who attempted to make a spectacle of themselves, but one look into her eyes changed his focus. There was only the two of them.
A small orchestra began Blue Danube, and he took his place as the leader, bringing her into his arms with the sway of the music.
“As I told you before, you have natural ability.”
He lowered his head to whisper near her ear. “I had a very good teacher.”
She looked up at him, their faces inches apart. “Miss Moore’s skills were certainly…unique.”
He laughed and stilled the urge to place a kiss into her midnight hair.
“I have a surprise for you.” Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip in an evident attempt to contain her delight. He loved watching how her intelligence and excitement shone through her eyes in a thousand hues of emotion.
“I don’t know if I’m equipped to manage much more excitement today.”
“You’ve been waiting for this news, dear doctor.”
“Have I?”
“The owner of Beacon House, Miss Everill, wishes to offer the house to you for your hospital.”
He froze in place, heat leaving his body.
She laughed but urged him back in step.
“Beacon House? My hospital?”
Her broad smile confirmed it.
“But how could we afford the rent for…for this?”
“She doesn’t need the home at present and feels very deeply for your cause. It’s her wish that you have the unhindered freedom to serve those suffering from this war.”
David blinked against the shock and took another glance about the massive, elaborately decorated room. Gold embossed carvings, tall windows, a ceiling displaying an artistic masterpiece. He stumbled again. “Can this be true?”
“Completely. It would give her the greatest pleasure to see her home used in such a noble endeavor by such a noble doctor.”
He stared at her, somehow feeling a deeper meaning behind her words. What hidden sacrifice had she made to bring this about? What painstaking work?
“I have no doubt this magnanimity is due to your efforts.”
She gave a quick shake to her head. “It’s almost all due to your good name.” She tipped a brow. “See? A good reputation carries above the stuff and nonsense of rumors.”
“And I’m certain this generosity has your fingerprints all over it.” He gripped her closer, tempted to pull her into an embrace in front of every person in the room. “This place, the location…it’s perfect. How soon can we move?”
“Within the week, if you like.” The pleasure she received from relaying this news shone all over her lovely face. “It is vacant except for the servants, and they are at your disposal.”
He placed her hand against his chest, squeezing it close to his heart, the world around them fading into music and blurs. “I don’t know how you managed it, but I will forever be in your debt.”
“There is no debt, David, and the pleasure is all mine. I know serving people is what God’s called you to do, and I would support it with all I have.”
The monies raised by the bazaar and the tickets to the ball met the bottom of their expectations, but at least the donations would supply two new surgery theaters. And, of course, Lady Hollingsworth’s funds would help pay staff, which finally allowed some financial breathing room.
She’d given Mrs. Bradford the day off and sent all the servants fine gifts, nothing like the second-hand material or cigars her mother used to give. In this changing world where a factory job gave more freedom and similar pay as service, Catherine would take every opportunity to show her gratitude.
Two lodges stood on the grounds of Beacon House. Lovely little cottages, probably meant for the grounds staff at one point. Mr. Coates lived in the smaller of the two houses, the one closest to the garages, but the other stood vacant.
Catherine asked Mrs. Bradford to prepare the additional cottage for her – a quiet refuge away from the bustle of the house and a safe haven to keep Catherine Everill’s information separate from Catherine Dougall’s. She’d have Mr. Palmer deliver mail to the cottage and, perhaps, keep up the façade long enough to sort out how to purchase more properties from Lady Cavanaugh.
Preparing for the move snatched away any private moments. With her staying at Beacon to prepare for the move and David at Roth to pack up patients, there
was little time for sweet, clandestine meetings, and though her head understood, her lips ached for his kiss.
But as she moved from room to room, reveling in the success of the move, the certainty of her choice to offer the hospital became even more secure. David’s steady administration to make the transition smooth proved his abilities and calling all the more, and with Ashleigh’s assistance, Catherine had purchased extra beds and fresh linens to provide each patient with his own bed instead of a cot, because she’d read how comfort encouraged faster healing.
As the quiet hum of evening closed the first night of Beacon War Hospital, Catherine slipped out into the garden, her favorite part of the house. Unlike Roth’s back garden, with its crumbling walls and untamed plumage, Mr. Coates had kept Beacon’s garden in lovely order. The hedges were trimmed, the fountain clear, and even the seasonal flowers bloomed late. She walked the pebbled path to a corner of the garden where a gazebo waited, pulling her coat against the mid-November chill.
Suddenly, from behind, she was wrapped in a pair of warm arms.
“I never received a good-night kiss at the ball.” David’s breath moved against her neck, and her body responded with a shock of delightful tingles. “As the guest of honor, I expected a more thorough closure from the esteemed hostess.”
She leaned into him, her head dropping back against his shoulder. A million stars blinked down from the dark sky, glimpsing their secret rendezvous with twinkling interest.
“How remiss of me.” Without hesitation, she turned, took his face in her hands, and stood on tiptoe to meet his mouth with hers. Warm and familiar, their lips found each other, over and over again, making up for lost time. She never tired of his face, his taste, the very feel of him.
“Will the honorable guest be satisfied with the hostess’ answer?”
He leaned his forehead against hers, lights from the house casting a shadow on his face. “On the contrary, satisfied is the last thing I feel.” He ran his thumb across her cheek. “I’ve missed you, my dear.”
She closed her eyes to appreciate his touch even more. “And I you.”
“One day, perhaps, we will have more than snatched moments.”
She brushed back his hair from his forehead and then slid her fingers down his temple to his ear. “I’m grateful for all moments, snatched or no.”
“Each one counts.” He sighed and embraced her, resting his head atop hers and surrounding her with mint.
“What is it?”
“Letters from my father remind me of the need…of the value of loving in the present.” His voice held a sadness she couldn’t touch.
“Is he as well as can be expected?”
“Yes.” David wrapped one of her ringlets around his finger. “But they desperately need more doctors.”
Her stomach cinched into a knot at the shadow in his words, the trembling foreboding. “We can certainly pray God sends more doctors.”
He paused before answering. “Yes, we can.” The silence sifted between them with an intermittent dove call breaking into the stillness.
“I love you, Catherine.”
She opened her mouth to respond in kind, but her voice caught on the words. ‘Love’ was such a small word for the feelings pressing in on her heart. She leaned in and reclaimed his lips, hoping he understood without words.
“You plan to go to the Front?”
Jessica blocked his exit from the room. “Oh no, my brother. You don’t make an announcement like this and then expect to dash for cover. No, no, no.” She pointed toward a chair in the room. “You’re going to explain.”
He groaned and kept his stance. “I had written to Dr. Stephens last month, the lead doctor who staffs the Casualty Clearing Stations, and received his reply yesterday. His assessment of the needs at the Front are similar to Father’s.”
“But you’ve had the hospital at Beacon House for only two weeks. How can it be established enough for your absence?”
He walked behind his desk and tossed a packet of papers toward her. “With the support Catherine’s gleaned from Lady Hollingsworth and some of her acquaintances, we will be able to make enough to pay the staff each month in advance. We have no surplus, but this…” He shrugged. “This Catherine Everill person is allowing us to use Beacon House and its servants at no cost to us. The generosity is staggering and gives us security.”
He waved his hand at the papers. “Our current staff can manage things quite well, I’m certain, especially under your supervision.”
Jessica looked down at the papers, scanning over the figures. “I’m going with you.”
“Going with me?” He started to round the desk. “Now, Jessica, be sensible.”
“My brother and my father are at the Front. My family.” She slammed her palm against the desk, eyes challenging him to disagree with her. Do you think for one moment I’m not going with you?”
God must see some sort of strength in him to surround him with so many strong-willed women. “It’s dangerous.”
She folded her arms across her chest, and he almost ducked from the glare. “Too dangerous for a woman but not a man?”
“Let’s not make this an issue of women’s rights.”
“Good, I’m glad we agree.” Her smile spread. “Then you shouldn’t mind if I go as your theatre nurse.”
“My theatre nurse.”
She started for the door, a hint of victory lightning her step. “Every surgeon needs a theatre nurse, at the Front or in a hospital. I’ve been yours for years. I know your routines, your habits, how you work.” She shrugged. “And I’m going with you.”
David placed his palms on the desk and leaned forward in surrender. There was no point in trying to argue. A whole childhood with her proved it. “At least the others will be here. Doctors Pike and Hudson ran their own hospitals before the Zeppelin attack. Ashleigh is more than competent to head the nursing staff. Michael’s become indispensable in the organization and function of the facility, and Catherine is…” His smile softened as he searched for a description.
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Please, I read your dazed expression with perfect clarity.” She shook her head, almost in sympathy, and reached for the door handle, then paused. “Speaking of Catherine.” Jessica released a low whistle, another hint to her place outside high society and nod to their rural upbringing. “You’ve given her the pig-headed idea you’re in love with her?”
“I have.”
“And now you’re leaving?” Jessica stepped out into the doorway, brow tilted in warning. “What do you plan to do about her?”
“Do about her?” David took his coat from the chair and slid his arms through it, rounding the desk, on a mission. “I plan to marry her.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
David stepped out onto the veranda overlooking the garden, the midday sun chasing the chill of the morning away. It was uncustomarily warm for the end of November, enough that David walked down the pebbled path with his coat unbuttoned in search for his elusive would-be bride.
Mrs. Bradford had directed him toward the gardens, or the cottage situated behind the garden wall. Catherine’s little refuge. She must have a close enough acquaintance with Mrs. Everill to request a full cottage to herself, which piqued David’s curiosity once again about the mysterious benefactress. Something felt odd about this obscure great lady who failed to make her presence known but showered him with unimaginable kindness.
He neared the gazebo and saw the object of his search. She sat inside, knees drawn up on the bench, sketchbook in hand and hat off. She’d pinned her dark hair tight today, in one of those ‘knots’ his sister talked about, but the style elongated Catherine’s neck as she bent to focus on her work.
His steps faltered, a sudden uncertainty slowing his step. Perhaps speaking to her another time, when she wasn’t otherwise occupied, would be the best course. Besides, arguing with another strong-willed woman wasn’t on his list of favorite things, and he knew his news wouldn’t be welcome.
&nbs
p; He looked back at her silhouette, her profile, and his chest expanded with the desire to be with her, to shower her with affection he’d never given to anyone else. To share a few days together as man and wife.
No, he wouldn’t cower.
She must have heard his approach because she looked up from her work and ushered him into the gazebo with her smile. “To what do I owe this honor?” She placed her sketchpad on the bench beside her and swung her legs around to the floor. “A few private moments of the good doctor’s time? This is momentous.”
“Don’t pretend we haven’t had dinner together every day for the past week.” His rebel gaze scanned her body. “And a few unplanned surreptitious meetings.”
“My favorite kinds.” An attractive blush rose into her cheeks, and she returned his daring perusal with one of her own. “But, mind you, ‘few’ being the key word.”
“Dear Catherine, if I spend longer without a chaperone, I’m afraid of what I might do to you.” He sat on the bench, leaving ample space between them. “My thoughts take a turn which I can’t seem to control.”
She sighed and looked away. “I suppose you’re right. We should be careful, because if your thoughts delve into any imaginings like mine, it’s perfectly scandalous.”
He slid a little closer, searching her face. “You…you daydream of me in a…scandalous way?”
Her lips tilted into her most alluring smile, the one full of mischief. “Your kisses inspire a great deal of scandalous daydreams, David.” She waved her hand in front of her face, flattering him with her innocent admission. “And your touch?” She closed her eyes, releasing a long sigh. “Your hands on my face or my hair make me wonder—”
Her eyes popped wide as if she just realized she spoke her thoughts aloud. He felt every word blazing like a fire through him. Yes, her daydreams joined his in their abject rebellion.
The Thorn Keeper Page 26