Free Edith Layton by To Wed a Stranger

pale, her lips so white; thank God Mrs. Farrow had thought to put a pretty lacy little nightcap on her, because though Miles had seen much and endured more without flinching, the sight of Annabelle’s poor cropped head did strange things to his stomach.
    If the worst came to pass, he thought with asurge of self-loathing, he’d never marry for convenience again. He’d never compromise on something as important as marriage even if it meant never remarrying at all. Now he saw what he hadn’t thought of before. Fools rush in, they said. He’d indeed been that. He’d agreed to a life of loneliness with a woman he didn’t know. And if things had gone on as they’d planned? What hope would there have been for children conceived and raised with no loving parents? What hope for himself?
    And if she lived? How could they make a go of it now that he realized what a huge mistake they’d made?
    When the door opened, Miles looked up to see his friend Harry peering in. “No change that I can see,” Miles said. “Go back to sleep.”
    “Can’t,” Harry said on a yawn as he came into the room. “It’s the same thing at home. I can’t rest if there’s even a small chance I can help. I know that a successful London physician should see the supposedly ill and quack them to their heart’s content, then go home to sleep the sleep of the very rich. But most nights I’m at St. Guy’s tending to those who can’t afford to see me by day. I don’t know how my Mary Anne puts up with me.”
    “I never thought to ask. How is she?”
    “As always, more than I deserve. She’s sorry she couldn’t attend your wedding, as was I. I was detained by a stricken patient, of course. Theytend to go into crisis whenever I have something merry planned. My Mary Anne was too busy keeping our newest babe close company to travel so far as out the door. Due next month, if all goes well. But once that’s done, she looks forward to meeting your wife.” He paused, cleared his throat, adjusted his spectacles, and scrutinized Annabelle. “You know?” he said softly, after studying her for a moment. “Your wife just may be able to be introduced to mine someday, after all.”
    Miles rose to his feet. “What is it?”
    “It’s what it isn’t. She’s holding her own. And days have passed without her worsening. Her color’s no worse, her breathing isn’t labored. I don’t say it’s time to celebrate, but here’s the dawn and here she is. That’s good, that’s very good. The tides of life run lowest at dawn and dusk. That’s when the weak slip away. She’s holding on. That’s something.”
    “What’s happened?” Mrs. Farrow asked. She stood stock-still in the doorway holding a basin of steaming water, staring at the two men standing over the patient’s bed.
    “Nothing,” Harry assured her. “We were only just commenting on that. She’s still with us, Gloriana, and that’s good.”
    “Well,” she said with heartfelt relief. “Then you two might want to leave for a bit. They say conversation can penetrate the sleeping mind, and I know pain and discomfort do. So it only makessense that comfort can too. I thought I’d wash the lady’s face and hands for her, freshen her for the morning.”
    “Excellent idea,” Harry said. “Let us know when you’re done. Come along, Miles, we’ll swallow some strong coffee, put some heart back in you too.”
     
    They sat alone in the morning room, eating a hastily assembled breakfast they’d foraged from the kitchens.
    Harry cast a shrewd eye over his old friend. He sipped his coffee and murmured, “If you were my patient I’d give you two days, at most. You look dreadful.” His voice softened. “You must love her very much.”
    Mile’s lean face was shadowed by a new growth of beard, and his eyes had dark circles under them. But the stark sorrow in them made him look even more haggard. “No,” he said quietly, “there’s the damnedest part of it, Harry. I don’t. How could I? I