Return of the Runaway (24 page)

Her hand clenched upon the black cane and she said sharply, ‘Let us understand one another,
monsieur
. I will fund you while you obtain the necessary membership of the College of Surgeons and I will do what I can to find you a position. You will be paid adequately, I have no doubt, but there can be no advancement in society, no opportunity to make a fortune.'

‘I do not want a fortune.'

‘But without the means to support her you cannot hope to marry my granddaughter.'

‘I understand that, ma'am. I have no hopes in that quarter.'

‘And you will not try to contact Cassandra again?'

‘You have my word.' Raoul met the faded old eyes steadily. ‘It is over.'

* * *

He left Chantreys the following morning, driving away into a grey dawn with the first chill of winter frosting the grass.

Chapter Twelve

Gosport, Hampshire
—February 1804

‘I
have shut up the house, sir, and made up the fire in your bedchamber. If that is all, sir, I will bid you goodnight.'

‘Yes, thank you, Slinden. Goodnight.'

As the servant closed the door Raoul leaned back in his chair and stretched his feet towards the crackling blaze in the hearth. Perhaps he would have just one more glass of wine before he went to bed. Only one, though, because he would have to rise betimes and return to the hospital. He had received word only this evening that another ship had docked and the wounded would be transported to Gosport overnight.

Even in the few months he had been at the small hospital the number of injured men returning from the ongoing war with France had risen. It was already being suggested that he should be promoted to chief surgeon, the trustees recognising his superior knowledge and ability, but the daily round was gruelling. He and his fellow medical staff—surgeons, physicians and medical assistants—worked through all the daylight hours and often Raoul would continue far into the night. Even when he had finished at the hospital local people would turn up at his door with a variety of injuries and ailments, for word had soon spread that kind-hearted ‘Mr Doolevant', as they called him, would help them if he could. And without charge, too, if they had no money. He rarely had a moment to himself.

One would have thought that such a busy life would leave him little time to think of Cassandra, but it was not the case. He missed her so much it was a physical pain. She was like a ghost at his shoulder; whenever he was operating he remembered how she worked with him at Flagey, if he saw a pretty brunette in the street he would think of Cassie and when he lay down each night she haunted his dreams. Cassie as he had first seen her, fighting off her attackers; Cassie laughing and teasing him; Cassie naked in his arms...

It was five months since he had driven away from Chantreys and the heartache was as strong as ever. Impatiently he pushed himself out of his chair and poured a glass of wine from the decanter on the table. It was contemptible to feel so sorry for himself when the hospital was full of men who were injured or dying. He heard the faint thud of the knocker and closed his eyes. Another poor soul requiring his help. In the past months he had become adept at setting bones and stitching broken heads, not to mention advising his neighbours on all sorts of bodily ailments from chilblains to childbirth. He had never wanted to become a doctor yet here he was administering to the sick, albeit those who were too poor to pay for medical help. At first Raoul had thought his services might offend the local physician, but Dr Radcliffe was sanguine.

‘There's more than enough sickness and ailments to go round, young man,' he had said, when Raoul had voiced his concerns. ‘These unfortunates cannot afford to pay, so you are not robbing me of my livelihood.'

They had discussed the possibility of setting up a charitable trust to help the townsfolk. Nothing had come of it yet, but it was something Raoul was determined to pursue, when he was not so overworked. The knock sounded again and he closed his eyes. Let them go away. He was too tired to deal with anything more tonight.

He was refilling his glass when Slinden came in.

‘Mr Doulevant, sir, there is a lady wishing to see you.'

Raoul turned, intending to rebuke his servant for disturbing him, but when his eyes fell upon the figure standing beside Slinden the words died away.

* * *

Cassandra pushed back her hood and looked nervously at Raoul.

‘I beg your pardon for calling so late.'

Perhaps she should have waited until the morning. He was frowning so direfully that she was about to withdraw when he came towards her, hands held out.

‘No, no, it is not yet ten. Come, sit here by the fire, let me get you a glass of wine. Have you eaten? Slinden shall bring you bread and cheese, or there is a little chicken broth—'

‘No, no, I dined on the road,' she told him, relief at his reception making her laugh a little.

She sank on to a chair and accepted a glass of wine.

‘Please sit down, Raoul. You look so tired, are you working very hard?'

‘Yes, but it is very rewarding.'

‘I am glad.' She fell silent, sipping her wine while the servant withdrew and closed the door upon them. Raoul was devouring her with his eyes like a starving man might survey a banquet.

‘Why have you come here?' he demanded.

She saw his glance drop to her stomach.

‘Not to tell you I am carrying your child.'

She watched him carefully and was heartened when he looked a little disappointed at her words. He frowned at her.

‘Have you come from Bath, alone?'

‘No, no, I have my maid with me.' She added, when he raised his brows, ‘I left her at the Globe.'

‘You should not be here.'

‘We made very good time and spent only one night on the road,' she said, ignoring his comment and untying the strings of her cloak. ‘Grandmama's chaise is prodigious comfortable and very swift.'

‘And does Lady Hune know you are here?'

He was still staring, as if memorising every detail, and her heart fluttered. His eyes were every bit as dark and intense as she remembered, but then it was hard to forget him when he filled her thoughts by day and haunted her dreams every night.

She said now, ‘I came of age last month, Raoul, I do not need Grandmama's consent, but, yes—' she smiled at him ‘—she knows I am here and I have her blessing.'

She waited expectantly, hoping he might drag her out of her chair and kiss her. Instead he looked down into his wine, scowling.

‘I thought she had more sense than that. Finish your wine, milady, and I will escort you back to the Globe. I take it you have bespoke rooms there?'

Cassie was disappointed, but not downhearted. She had been thinking about this meeting for the whole of her long journey and his reaction could have been so much worse. She took another sip of her wine.

‘Very well. But first I must give you this.' She reached into her reticule and pulled out a bundle of folded papers which she handed to him.

He opened them and studied the contents in silence.

‘This is my testimonial from Captain Belfort. And the copy of my discharge papers...'

‘Yes. Grandmama received them two days ago.'

He looked up. ‘But how?'

‘They arrived with a note from my cousin.' Her smile grew. ‘Wolfgang is alive. He successfully escaped from Valerin's men, but a bullet grazed his temple and eventually he collapsed. He was taken in and nursed by some kind villagers, but when he came round he had no knowledge of who he was. They found these papers on him and assumed he was you. As did Wolfgang.' She chuckled. ‘He says in his letter he knew something was wrong when he was confronted with his first patient and had not the smallest idea of what to do! Thankfully, a few weeks ago, his memory returned and as soon as he was able he sent the papers to my grandmother.'

She waited, but when he said nothing she continued. ‘It means that you can claim the house that was left to you by the English countess.' She saw his mouth twist in distaste, observed the slight shake of his head and said quietly, ‘Or you could go home, now you have proof against Valerin's lies.'

‘Home?' He shook his head. ‘Brussels is no longer home, it is under French rule and Bonaparte is greedy for more power. He has already established his own system of law and made his brother-in-law Governor of Paris. It would not surprise me if Bonaparte declared himself king. It seems no one can stop him, but at least the English are trying to do so. I shall remain here, where thanks to Lady Hune I can continue my work. And there is much to do. The trustees here are forward-thinking men and I hope eventually we may establish a medical school.'

Cassie noted how the tiredness left him and his face lit up with enthusiasm as he spoke of his plans.

‘For that you will need money,' she said. ‘And perhaps someone to help you.' She sat forward, saying in a rush, ‘My fortune is mine to control, or my husband's—'

‘No! I have told you, Cassie, we cannot marry. It is impossible.'

‘Why is it impossible, unless you do not love me?' She held her breath waiting for his answer.

He exhaled, something between a sigh and a groan as he said, ‘Oh, my dear, I love you more than I can say, but I cannot give you the life you need.'

‘How do you know what I need? I have tried to resume my old life in Bath, a social round of parties and concerts and balls, but it all seems so, so
meaningless
.' She clasped her hands together, saying earnestly, ‘I was never happier than when we were together, Raoul. I know that now. Remember how we worked together in Flagey? When you were saving the lives of those poor people and I was helping you? For the first time in my life I was doing something useful, not merely giving out alms or delivering a basket of food to the hungry. Let me help you again, Raoul. I have been told that the army allows soldiers' wives to nurse the injured, so why not the wife of a surgeon? There must be
something
I can do.

‘It will be hard work, I am not afraid of that, and I know I shall make mistakes because this life is very new to me, but I cannot go back to my old one, the past months have taught me that much.'

‘No,' he said, jumping up. ‘It is impossible.'

Cassie rose and placed herself before him. She had rehearsed the arguments so often in her head, now she must use them to convince him.

‘You say we are too different, Raoul, that we cannot live happily together, but the world is not as it was. The revolution in France has turned the old order on its head. And things are changing in England, too. In marrying you I do not consider I would be marrying beneath me.' She smiled up at him, cupping his dear face with her hands. ‘I have no doubt that your colleagues here would think it was you who had the worst end of the bargain.'

He reached up and drew her fingers gently but firmly away.

‘No, Cassandra, I cannot do it. I
will not
ask you to marry me.'

‘That is why I had to reach you tonight.' She glanced towards the clock ticking quietly on the mantelshelf. ‘It is not yet midnight and today is the last day of February. Leap Day. It is an old tradition in this country that on this day a lady may ask a gentleman to marry her and if he should refuse she can demand a forfeit.' She sank to her knees before him. ‘And so, Raoul Doulevant, will you do me the very great honour of becoming my husband?'

He drove one hand through his hair as he gazed down at her, consternation in his face.

‘Get up, Cassie, you must not kneel to me. You are a lady!'

She smiled up at him. ‘You told me once you did not believe my birth made me superior.'

‘Not your birth, no.' He reached down and lifted her bodily on to her feet. ‘But everything else about you—your bravery, your goodness—you are too far above me, my love. I cannot make you happy.'

His hands were on her shoulders, his grip firm, as if despite his words he could not bear to let her go and it gave her hope.

‘How do you know that?' she challenged him. ‘Will you not give me the opportunity to show you that I am not the silly, simpering female you think me?'

‘That is not how I think of you and you know it!'

She waited patiently, watching the play of emotions in his face. At last he released her and gave a hiss of exasperation.

‘And if I refuse, what forfeit will you demand of me?'

Cassie had spent the journey considering that, too, and now she gave her head a tiny shake.

‘Why, none, my love, but I shall
“make me a willow cabin at your gate”
.' She smiled. ‘To be serious, I shall buy myself a house here and use my money to ingratiate myself with the trustees. I shall help them to expand the hospital here, perhaps I will even invest in their medical school.'

Raoul listened to the reasoned voice, saw the stubborn determination in that beautiful face. His defences were crumbling, but he was not yet ready to give in.

He said dismissively, ‘You have no idea how to go about these things.'

‘I will learn,' came the calm reply. ‘There are always plenty of people ready to advise an heiress how to spend her money. Alternatively, you could marry me, and we could discuss all these matters of an evening.' She put her hands against his chest. His heart reacted immediately, thudding heavily as if it was trying to break out from his ribs and reach her fingers. Her smile told him she was well aware of the effect she was having on him. She stepped closer and murmured, ‘When we are in bed, perhaps.'

Raoul's iron control snapped.

‘The one thing we will
not
do in bed is discuss business!'

He dragged her into his arms and with something between a laugh and a sob Cassie flung her arms around his neck and turned her face up to receive his kiss. It was hard, demanding and ruthless, everything she had hoped it would be and she responded eagerly. When he broke off and held her away from him she had to stifle a sigh of disappointment.

He frowned at her. ‘Are you sure you want this, Cassie?'

‘Very sure.' She felt a smile tugging at her lips. ‘So sure that I sent the cab away.'

‘You are quite shameless.'

Her smile grew. ‘Utterly beyond redemption, my darling!'

With a growl he swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the room. Her hands were around his neck and she laughed up at him as he climbed the narrow staircase.

‘You are going to marry me, then, Raoul?'

‘That depends.'

‘Oh? On what?'

He paused, his eyes burning into her in a way that set her pulse racing.

‘It depends,
ma chère
, upon what you think of my lovemaking.'