Prince Charming of Harley Street / The Heart Doctor and the Baby (7 page)

Lady Hilton shook her head regretfully. ‘He won’t hear of it, I’m afraid, and I have told him I’ll respect his wishes. That’s why I don’t want you to try and persuade him. He’s
too weak to put up a fight, so he made me promise to speak to you before you saw him.’

‘The chemotherapy might help.’

‘Will it prolong his life?’

Jonathan looked her directly in the eye. ‘I’m not going to lie to you. It might give him a little more time, ease his symptoms, but, no, the outcome will be the same.’

‘And the chemotherapy will make him feel even worse in the short term, won’t it?’

‘He didn’t react to it very well before. So, yes, I’m guessing he’ll feel even more rotten than he does right now.’

‘Then nothing’s changed since we last had this conversation. Except it’s getting closer.’

‘Have you thought any more about bringing in nurses to help? I thought Rose here might be able to convince you. She worked in general practice before she joined us in London.’

Rose leaned forward. ‘If it’s okay with you, I’d like to see your husband and have a chat with him before I advise you. But Dr Cavendish is right, there are lots of options that would allow you to keep him at home but help you keep him comfortable at the same time.’

‘Of course.’ Lady Hilton stood. ‘I’ll take you both upstairs.’

Rose and Jonathan found their patient sitting in a chair by the window with a rug over his knee. A book lay by his side, and a still full cup of tea sat ignored on the table next to him. His eyes were closed and his face had the grey gauntness that Rose had seen too often before. She knew immediately that Lord Hilton didn’t have much longer.

His wife touched him gently on the shoulder.

‘Darling, it’s Jonathan and his nurse come to see how you are.’

Eyes flickered open and as they focused on his wife, a
look of such love that Rose had rarely seen filled the pale blue eyes. Her heart contracted.

‘Jonathan, my dear boy. How are you? And your family?’ The voice was weak but clear.

‘Father is always asking after you.’ As he spoke, Jonathan placed his fingers on the old man’s wrist.

‘Any word of getting married yet? Isn’t it time?’

Jonathan laughed. ‘No. Can’t find a woman who is crazy enough to have me.’

‘What about this girl here?’ For a moment Rose squirmed. He couldn’t be alluding to her as a possible wife? The poor man must be confused.

‘This girl, as you put it, is my nurse. Victoria’s pregnant. Unfortunately she’s being very sick again so has to take time off. Rose is filling in for the time being.’

Rose stepped closer so that she could be seen. ‘Dr Cavendish thought I might be able to help make you more comfortable—or at least suggest some things that could help.’

Rose watched carefully as Jonathan finished his examination. While he was doing that she was assessing how Lord Hilton moved and how much pain he seemed to be in.

‘Why don’t we have a little chat while Jonathan talks to your husband?’ Rose said to Lady Hilton. ‘You can tell me what help you have at the moment.’

Once they were back in the sitting room, Rose broached the subject of nursing care.

‘I don’t want strangers looking after him,’ Lady Hilton protested.

‘What about a night nurse at least?’ Rose suggested gently. ‘Someone to sit with him through the night so you can get a good sleep?’

‘There’s Goodall,’ Lady Hilton said firmly. ‘He’ll attend
to Giles if he needs anything at night. He also helps him shave and wash. He’s been with him for thirty years and knows his ways.’

Rose had to admit that having someone to help who Lord Hilton knew well would be far less stressful than bringing in new faces at this stage.

‘I know Dr Cavendish—Jonathan—is likely to suggest a morphine pump. That way the pain can be controlled. Will you consider it? You’ll need to have a nurse call at least every second day to check on it, but that shouldn’t be too intrusive.’

Lady Hilton blinked furiously. ‘Why did Victoria have to be unwell now of all times? Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just being selfish. Of course, it’s important that she looks after herself now that she’s pregnant. But Giles knows her. He would have been happy to have Goodall fetch her from town every day.’

‘I’m sure there will be equally good nurses locally that would be happy to come to the house.’

‘That would mean interviewing people. It would be terribly time-consuming. I don’t want anything to interfere with the time we have left. I know there’s not much time.’ Her eyes locked onto Rose’s and she could see the spark of hope there. But just as quickly it was replaced with resignation. ‘You don’t have to pretend otherwise, my dear. I know it and Giles knows it.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Couldn’t you come? He’s met you and he seems to have taken to you. And Jonathan wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t think highly of you. We could arrange for you to be collected and brought back every day. Please say you’ll agree.’

Although Rose felt for the older woman’s distress, she
knew what she was suggesting would be impossible. Just as she was trying to find the words to let her down, Jonathan walked back into the room.

‘He’s sleeping now. Goodall and I helped him back into bed. I think he should have something more regular for the pain, however. I can come and see him whenever you want, but analgesia as and when he wants it would be better.’

‘Miss Taylor was just suggesting the very same thing. But she tells me a nurse will have to come in regularly to check the pump. I asked her whether she could come. What do you think, Johnny? Could she?’

Jonathan looked at Rose. ‘I’m afraid I need her in London,’ he said.

The old lady looked so woebegone that Rose couldn’t help herself. With Jenny manning the desk, she could come and help the Hiltons. It would keep her busy. She had too much time to brood as it was.

‘What about if I came after my shift? Would that work?’

Jonathan frowned. ‘Would you excuse us for just a moment?’ he said, and taking Rose by the elbow steered her out of earshot.

‘I know you want to help, but don’t you have your own situation to think about? It’ll be too much.’ For a second Rose thought that somehow he had found out about her condition, even though she knew it was impossible. ‘Coming here and putting in a full day’s work before going home to help out with your father. I’ve your health to think about too. The last thing I need or want, is to have to find another nurse.’

‘It’s not as if I’m run off my feet at the surgery.’ Rose glanced across at Lady Hilton who was studiously looking out the window. ‘I just wanted to help. Anyway, there’s at
least three free afternoons a week where you don’t have any patients. I know you keep them free for emergencies or unscheduled home visits, but so far they’ve been quiet and I’ve just been twiddling my thumbs. I could come here then.’

Jonathan’s eyes followed hers. Despite the determined look and the upright posture, Lady Hilton needed help and they both knew it.

‘I’ll agree to it on one condition,’ Jonathan said. ‘You come here only on those free afternoons and on the other two we shuffle my schedule around so that there aren’t patients booked in for when you’re here. Jenny and I can cover the odd drop in or emergency between us. If that suits you, we have a deal.’ He didn’t need to say what they were both thinking. It was unlikely that the arrangement would be required beyond a few weeks at the most.

He smiled sadly at Rose and her heart skipped a beat. ‘Thank you for offering. I’ve known Lord and Lady Hilton all my life. Anything that will make these last few weeks and days easier for them would mean a great deal to them…and to me.’

Jonathan told Lady Hilton what they had agreed, emphasising that they still needed to get Jonathan’s schedule sorted out but that he didn’t think it would be a problem. The relief in her eyes brought a lump to Rose’s throat.

Jonathan turned down Lady Hilton’s invitation to dinner. ‘Next time, I promise. But it’s getting late, and I really have to get Rose home. I’ll phone you tomorrow morning and let you know what we’ve managed to sort out between us.’

The journey back in the helicopter was a more subdued affair. Rose found herself wondering about Jonathan. On the one hand, he seemed to like nothing better than to be
partying along with his social set; on the other, as a doctor, he seemed to genuinely care about his patients. She had been guilty of making assumptions about him that appeared to be no more than figments of her imagination. In that regard she was no better than the press. She slid a glance in his direction. Why couldn’t she have met someone like him before? Before her world had been turned upside down? And why did she have the sinking sensation that what she was feeling was a good deal more than she should for her boss?

O
N
S
ATURDAY
morning, she was sitting reading to her father when there was a knock at the door. Rose glanced out of the window, surprised to see a large four-by-four parked outside. Baffled, she answered the door to find Jonathan standing there with a broad smile on his face. He was dressed in faded jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. It was the first time she had seen him in anything apart from his suit and if anything he looked even more handsome. Certainly more approachable.

For once the sun was shining and although it was cool, there was a hint of summer in the air.

Open-mouthed, Rose stood back and let Jonathan in.

‘Who is it, love?’ Her mother came to stand behind her.

‘It’s Dr Cavendish, Mum.’

‘Please call me Jonathan,’ he said, holding out his hand and smiling charmingly at her mother.

‘Why are you here?’ Rose asked, suddenly conscious of the small house with its comfortable but worn furnishings. Then, aware of how rude she sounded, she apologised. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just a little surprised to see you. I didn’t think you even knew where I lived.’

Jonathan’s smile grew wider. ‘Your address was on your
file.’ Then he frowned. ‘I should have phoned, but I thought we had an arrangement?’ In the cramped dimensions of the hall she could smell his aftershave.

‘Arrangement?’ Rose echoed.

‘The tickets to the match. Remember? I promised I’d find a way to get your father there. If he’d still like to go, that is.’

Rose was bewildered. ‘You’ve come to take my father? Don’t you have a cricket match to go to?’

‘There will be other matches,’ he said dismissively, but Rose knew enough about cricket to know that despite his words he was giving up one of the most looked-forward-to events of the year. ‘I’m planning to go to a party afterwards. Perhaps you’ll come too?’

Rose shook her head, still confused. He had given up his day to do something for her father, a man he’d never met, and he wanted her to go to a party. Her heart skipped a beat. ‘I couldn’t. I’ve nothing remotely suitable to wear. Besides, I’m needed here.’ It wasn’t the whole truth. Her father was improving daily and required only minimal help now. But her at one of Jonathan’s parties? Not on your life. What on earth would she have to say to his friends or them to her? The idea was ridiculous. Nevertheless, she had to admit to a small stab of regret. It had been ages since she’d been out. Besides, she had to admit that she was intensely curious about what sort of party it would be. Like everything else these days, it would be another new experience to add to her growing list.

Suddenly aware that they were still standing in the small hall, Rose remembered her manners.

‘You’d better come in.’

She ushered him into the small sitting room. Her parents looked up, curious.

‘Dad. This is Dr Cavendish. He’s come to ask if you’d like to go to the football match this afternoon.’

Jonathan crossed the room and shook her father’s hand warmly. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Taylor. Your daughter tells me you’re an Arsenal fan. Well, it so happens that I have tickets to the match today and I wondered if you’d like to come?’

‘That’s kind of you, son,’ Rose’s father said. His words were still slurred and Rose doubted that Jonathan would be able to understand what he was saying. ‘But my leg’s a problem. I don’t think I could get up the stairs.’ Although he was continuing to improve, pretty much managing to get himself washed and dressed, he had to lean heavily on a stick to walk. Rose doubted he’d be able to manage more than a few metres without a wheelchair.

‘I have a plan for that,’ Jonathan said. It seemed as if Rose had been wrong and that he could make out the words her father was trying to say. ‘If I told you that I thought Rose and I can manage to get you there and to your seat without too much trouble, what would you say?’

Rose saw her father’s eyes light up and her heart ached for him. She remembered how he had taken her to football matches when she’d been young, hoisting her onto his shoulders so that she could see better. They had never missed a home match until she’d left for university in Scotland.

‘I don’t know, lad. Maybe you should take my Rose and go on your own. You’d enjoy it better.’

‘I’m not going to the match, Dad. Unless you go too. And I don’t think Dr Cavendish plans on staying. He has something else on.’

‘Did I say that?’ Jonathan asked innocently. ‘Can’t imagine why. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing, but I
don’t care to go on my own. So you and Rose would be doing me a favour by coming with me.’

‘Go on, love,’ Rose’s mother prompted. ‘You haven’t been out of the house since…’ She paused and Rose guessed she still found it difficult to admit even to herself. ‘The stroke. A bit of fresh air will do you the world of good. And I could be doing with getting your father from under my feet for a few hours.’

Rose knew her mother didn’t mean a word of it. Her parents still loved each other deeply. Her mother wanted to bring some joy back to her husband’s life. Rose also knew her father wouldn’t go without her.

‘In that case, I say yes, I’d love to go.’

With Jonathan helping, it was difficult but manageable to get her father along with his wheelchair into the roomy back seat of the car Jonathan had brought instead of his sports car. When they arrived at the football stadium, Jonathan flashed something at the security guard and drove up to the front gate. With him on one side of her father and her on the other, they used the lift to reach the box where they were to be seated.

‘Always wanted to see the footie from one of these fancy boxes,’ Tommy said when they had seated him with a rug over his lap. ‘Never could afford it.’

‘We can go inside the lounge and have lunch first, if you like?’ Jonathan suggested.

Tommy shook his head. ‘You two go. I’m just as happy to stay here now I’m settled.’

‘And I’d rather stay with you, Dad.’ Rose turned to Jonathan. ‘But please don’t let us keep you from your lunch. We’ll be fine here until the match starts.’

‘Then I’ll go and fetch us something to have here. I don’t want to eat on my own. Any preferences?’

Several minutes later, Jonathan returned with a tray full of various goodies to eat. Rose noticed that he’d included several items that would be easy for her father to eat with his one good hand. Once more she was surprised and touched by his thoughtfulness. Her father was a proud man and wouldn’t have touched anything that meant Rose had to help him in public.

As they waited for the match to begin, Jonathan and her father chatted about previous matches. It was the first time she had seen her father looked so animated since his stroke and she sent silent thanks to Jonathan. Doing this had surely been outside expected behaviour for an employer. She guessed it was to repay her for seeing to Lord Hilton. Whatever the reason, Rose knew she was in danger of falling for her boss. Her heart gave a sickening thud. Two more things she’d have to add to her list. Watching a football match from a box and falling in love for the first time.

Despite her father’s team losing in the final seconds of the match, it was a good day and Rose was disappointed when it came to an end.

Jonathan drove them home, dissecting the game in excruciating detail with her father while Rose sat back in her seat, allowing their chat to wash over her. She was falling for a man with whom she had nothing in common. Why now? When, even if he could ever feel the same about her, she had no future to offer him? Perhaps it was because she didn’t know what the future held that she believed herself in love? If what she was feeling
was
love. It was certainly lust. Infatuation. Every time he smiled her stomach somersaulted. Whenever he was in the room her heart would start pounding and she would feel short of breath.
If he touched her, even the slightest pressure of his hands as he passed her a mug of coffee or a set of notes, her knees would go all rubbery. But it was more than that, she knew, and her heart dropped to her boots. Regardless of his reputation as a womaniser, he was kind and gentle. Would anyone else have given up what he had just to take the ailing father of an employee to a football match? Rose doubted it.

Her mother was waiting for them when they arrived home. She too seemed better for having an afternoon off, although Rose knew that the sight of her father looking as he once had was worth more to her mother than any number of afternoons with her feet up.

Jonathan helped her father settle back into his chair. Rose could hardly look him in the eye in case he read her mind. It would be too mortifying for words if he guessed how she felt.

‘I’ve asked Rose if she’d like to come to a party with me tonight,’ Jonathan said suddenly. ‘But she’s turned me down.’ He turned the full voltage of his charm on her mother, who was already putty in his hands.

‘Rose?’ Her mother turned to her. ‘You didn’t say no, did you?’

‘I can’t go, Mum. I’m needed here,’ Rose said.

‘Don’t be silly. We can manage. Besides, you could do with some fun. You’ve been looking awfully peaky lately.’ Rose could see the worry in her mother’s searching look.

‘And I don’t like my staff to look peaky,’ Jonathan added. ‘I promise you, if you get there and you aren’t enjoying yourself, I’ll bring you straight home. Or we can miss the party. Do something else.’

Rose capitulated. The truth was, right now she could
think of nothing she wanted more than to have more time with Jonathan. Who knew how many opportunities she had left? If she only had a short time left, this was how she wanted to spend it.

‘Okay, you’re on,’ she said. ‘On one condition. Tonight you come with me and meet some of my friends.’ She held her breath as she waited for his reply. Whatever he wanted from her, she had to know if it included wanting to spend time with her on her own territory. If he wasn’t simply using her as an excuse to avoid whatever demons he had in his life, she needed to know that too.

‘You’re on.’ Jonathan grinned. ‘Lead me to it.’

Jonathan sat in the pub feeling, he had to admit, slightly awkward. Rose had been engulfed by a load of her friends and he hadn’t seen her for at least ten minutes. Someone, he couldn’t remember who, had stuck a pint of beer in his hand and instructed him to drink up. Why was he here? And more importantly, why was he so driven to find out more about Rose Taylor? There were any amount of women he could be dating, ninety nine per cent of them less prickly than her and none of whom would be insisting that he get up and sing. He groaned internally. Apparently getting up on stage was part of the evening entertainment. And Rose had made no attempt to hide her glee when she had told him that he’d be expected to stand up and do his bit. Still, he was damned if he was going to admit defeat. He just prayed that none of the paparazzi had followed him here. Thankfully, it was extremely unlikely. It would never cross their minds that he’d be found in a pub on the outskirts of London.

The pub was packed for a special Scottish themed night,
with people coming from all over London for it. The place was filled with laughter and the chinking of glasses.

Rose squeezed her way into the seat behind him. Instead of the usual tied-back hair she had loosened it until it fell about her shoulders in a sleek glossy wave. Her eyes sparkled and a small smile played on her lips. He had never seen her so animated.

Suddenly there was a call for silence and after a few minutes everyone quietened down. A man Rose had introduced earlier as Jack, an old friend, had climbed onto the make-shift stage and was speaking into a microphone.

“Most of you know Rose,’ he said.

There was loud applause as everyone cheered and stamped their feet. Rose blanched slightly and muttered something under her breath. ‘What some of you don’t know is that Rose composes her own songs and plays the guitar as if she’s making love to it.’

There were more wild cheers. Jonathan slid a glance at Rose. She played the guitar. This was the first he had heard of it. And wrote her own songs.

‘I know she’ll be happy to play us a tune—if we give her a loud cheer.’

There was more applause and stamping of feet. If anything, the uproar was even louder than before. Rose was shaking her head, her hair falling across her crimson-stained face. Then she got to her feet and amid more cheering made her way to the stage.

She took the microphone from Jack’s hand. ‘Sorry, everyone,’ she said into the mike. ‘I didn’t bring my guitar with me tonight. So I’m afraid I can’t play for you.’ There was a sigh of disappointment then Jack turned round, holding a guitar which someone had passed to him.

‘Sorry, darling,’ he said. ‘But we just so happen to have one here for you to play. Go on, you can’t let everyone down.’

Reluctantly, Rose took the guitar from him. Someone pulled a chair across for her and she sat down, trying a few tentative chords. All the noise dropped away until there was complete silence.

‘Okay, I’ll play one song for you.’ She held up a finger to emphasise her words. ‘I’m going to play “
Fear A Bhata
”. It’s a Gaelic song my mother used to sing to me when I was a little girl. She sang it to me whenever she was missing Scotland, which was often. I’m playing it tonight for everyone who is far from home.’

In the silence Rose strummed a few chords then her husky voice wrapped itself around the packed room. Jonathan didn’t need to be able to understand the words to know it was full of longing and loss. The sound of her voice did something to his heartstrings that he’d never experienced before. He was transported to a world where people longed for something they couldn’t have. The Rose up there on the stage was a revelation to him. In the place of the shy, mousy Rose he had come to admire and respect was a beautiful woman who sang as if she knew all about heartache and loss. A woman with depths to her he had never guessed existed. A woman he found exciting yet restful. In that moment he knew that he was falling for Rose and the thought scared him witless.

When the final notes of Rose’s song had faded away, there was complete silence followed by a burst of applause. There were cries of ‘More’ but Rose just shook her head and passed the guitar back before stepping off the makeshift stage.