Marry Me (27 page)

“You understand there could be consequences?”

“I suppose you mean a child.”

“That’s only one of them, but we can start there. What would you do?”

Rhyne was unaware of her arms protectively slipping around her abdomen. “I don’t know. I don’t think I could pass it off to Mrs. Cooper.”

Cole pushed his hand through his hair. “Well, hallelujah for that.”

Rhyne’s head snapped sideways, and she stared at him. “What did you hope to hear? You’re making me say things out loud when I can barely think.”

He conceded that she had a point, although he didn’t share that with her. “I have to consider Whitley,” he said, trying a different tack.

“She’s another consequence?”

“I think so. She’ll figure it out, Rhyne. She always does, and she’ll have certain expectations.” “Same as yours, I bet.”

“I’d be very surprised if they were any different.” Forlorn, Rhyne stared at the floor. “She’ll never understand why I won’t marry you.”

“Probably not, since I don’t understand it myself.” “It’s a damn fool notion,” she said. “That’s why.” “I know you think so.”

Rhyne pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, but not because she was cold. “I guess Whitley’ll have to be disappointed in me.”

“She’ll be disappointed in both of us.”

“I don’t see how.”

“She knows better than to assign all the blame to you.”

“I think you’re wrong. She didn’t like it when she thought you were going to marry Miss Erwin.”

“Whitley didn’t like Caroline. For that matter, neither did my mother. Did she tell you that?”

Uncomfortable with sharing Whitley’s confidences, Rhyne nodded reluctantly.

“They tolerated her, but they never embraced her.” Cole tried to catch Rhyne’s eye, but she wouldn’t look in his direction. Her gaze remained firmly fixed on the patterned rug. “The comparison of you to Caroline doesn’t work at all.”

Rhyne was certain of that. Caroline Erwin knew what to do with the little fork. She probably wore silk drawers and owned a robe. Maybe more than one. And she didn’t have hair, she had
tresses.
Long blond tresses that held combs inlaid with turquoise and mother-of-pearl. It was also likely that her nose was as straight as a compass needle. Rhyne didn’t care for her much, but she couldn’t fault Cole’s eye for beauty.

Rhyne also knew it was true that neither Whitley’s judgment, nor that of her mother’s, was influenced in any great measure by Caroline Erwin’s appearance. The things that had the ability to erode Rhyne’s confidence would have been taken for granted by Mrs. Monroe and her daughter. Their society was filled with young women who could navigate their way as gracefully and as assuredly as Miss Erwin.

“What was she like?” asked Rhyne. This, at least, was a marginally more comfortable subject–for her.

Cole didn’t answer immediately. “I suppose that depends on whether I tell you about the woman I fell in love with or the one that I forced to end our engagement.”

“Tell me about both.”

He dropped his feet to the floor and stood, then he went to the stove and added some coals from the scuttle. When he returned to the bed, he pulled back the covers and got under them, resting his back against the headboard and drawing up his knees. He didn’t invite Rhyne to join him.

“The first time I saw her,” he said, “was at a dinner that her father held for all the student doctors at St. John’s. Dr. Erwin was a widower and he had pressed Caroline to act as our hostess. She effortlessly held the attention of every gentleman at the table, so much so that her father had to save his welcoming remarks until cigars and port were served.”

“Why did that make a difference?” asked Rhyne. “Naturally, Caroline had to excuse herself after dinner.” “Oh.”
Naturally.
There were so many conventions that Rhyne realized she still did not understand. “Did she notice you?”

“That’s a very good question. I thought she did. She said she did. But that was one of her talents. She didn’t merely command attention; she gave it as well. She had the ability to make every person she spoke to feel as if they were the most important person in the room. She cast a very wide net.”

“More like a spell,” Rhyne muttered. “Sorry.” She hadn’t meant him to hear her comment, but when he chuckled she felt duty bound to apologize.

“You’re not wrong,” he told her. “It was a spell. She was astute. Clever. Accomplished. She held very firm opinions and was fearless about voicing them. I didn’t understand then that there was nothing radical in her thinking, that her ideas were largely identical to those of her father. It was only that she could make them sound fresh. I thought she was an original. My mother thought she was an excellent reproduction.”

Rhyne thought that she’d have liked Cole’s mother. She was less certain that the reverse would be true. Rhyne scooted backward on the bed, wrestling with the blanket as she went. When she’d finally positioned herself so she could see Cole, she crossed her legs in front of her and set her elbows on her knees.

“Should I go on?” asked Cole.

“What? Yes. Please. I’m comfortable now.”

Cole’s fingers curled tightly in the folds of the blankets. It kept him from giving in to the urge to push Rhyne flat on her back and kiss her until they were both breathless. Fornicating
had
made him squirrelly.

“I have to explain to you about Caroline’s father. Dr. Erwin is the head of surgery at St. John’s. He’s an influential and respected physician, and he has a sharp intellect. He earned the position because of those things. I will never say otherwise. What I will say, and have said publicly, is that time stopped when he took over.”

“Time stopped? What do you mean?”

“He taught what he understood, but he discouraged experimentation of new techniques or discussion of theory. He read the journals and dismissed their conclusions. He ridiculed thinking that attempted to challenge his. He was brilliant at what he knew, at what he could teach, but in the new position he remade himself as God. He made himself omnipotent.”

“He didn’t like you.”

“That is putting it kindly. Whitley would say he was afraid of me. Perhaps even jealous. I’m not saying that I agree with her, but it’s true that Dr. Erwin and I rarely saw things in the same light. He had no tolerance for my research and discredited my work. He found ways to keep me out of the hospital’s laboratory by assigning me patients that should have gone to less experienced doctors by that time.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Cole did not have to think about it. “Caroline. That’s the simplest answer. You should understand that she wasn’t fundamentally rebellious. I suspect the only time she acted in opposition to her father’s wishes was when she agreed to marry me. It was odd, but once she did that, she began to try to remake me in her father’s image. I might have seen it sooner, but my mother died and I inherited the responsibility for my sister’s welfare. There was so much to do between settling the estate and working, I didn’t have a great deal of time for either of the women in my life. I didn’t even understand that they didn’t like each other.”

He regarded Rhyne frankly. “Whitley said she told you about the accident that burned her hands.”

“Yes, she did.”

“I’m always curious about the particular version. Did she mention, for instance, that I was gone from the house that night?”

“Yes. To a charity affair, I believe. Honoring Dr. Erwin.” “Did she tell you that she knew I was going?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.”

“You mean she didn’t know?”

“No. I lied to her. I told her I’d be at home, working in the carriage house if she needed me. Caroline was desperate for me to attend the gala. She said it would help heal the breach between her father and me. She wanted to be on my arm that night, and I couldn’t say no to her. She was very persuasive–another of her talents.”

“So you lied to Whitley.”

“There were servants in the house. I told myself I wasn’t really leaving her alone.” His smile was no smile at all, but a grim line that spoke to regret and contempt for his actions. “In my haste to get ready, I forgot about the lamp I’d left burning in the carriage house.”

“That’s the light Whitley saw from her window.”

“No. Not exactly. What Whitley saw was fire licking at the windows. A small animal … a stray cat … perhaps a rat … is most likely to blame for overturning the lamp. What Whitley didn’t see was me trying to put the fire out. It never occurred to her that I wasn’t anywhere around. She knew I’d told her I’d be in the carriage house, and the only explanation that came to her for me letting the fire grow was that I must have fallen asleep inside.”

Rhyne felt her heart begin to slam against her chest. She stared at him, saying nothing.

“Whitley didn’t hesitate. She didn’t call for help, and she didn’t tell anyone she was leaving the house. To my lasting regret, not only did I leave a lighted lamp unattended, but I also neglected to lock the door. I know she flew into the room with no thought for herself. Sometimes when I close my eyes …” He paused, shook his head. “She beat at the flames with an old rug that was lying by the door. She didn’t even realize I wasn’t in there yet, maybe if she had she would have just gotten out. Instead, once she’d gotten the fire down to where it was only smoldering, she started throwing water on it. There were all types of chemicals on the shelves. There were beakers of acid beside the sink.” “Sulfuric. Vitriol.”

“She told you that, did she? Well, there were other things besides that, but that’s the one that stays with her. She tossed them all into the sink. I think she meant to dip the bucket in so she’d have a decent amount to toss on the fire. That’s what I imagine. She doesn’t really remember much about what happened next. I know the chemicals reacted to release noxious gases, and I know she fainted. She fell forward into the sink long enough to cause the burns you saw, then she lay on the ground until the fire caught again and our caretaker noticed it. He went in, found Whitley, and carried her outside. The carriage house burnt to the ground, but the pumper trucks arrived in time to save the neighbor’s home and ours.

“Mrs. Abernathy knew where I was. She sent William, our caretaker, around to the hotel where the gala was being held. I left as soon as I received the message. Caroline came with me. She stayed for the first twenty-four hours, maybe longer. I don’t really know. Like Whitley, there are things I don’t quite remember.”

“It’s better that way,” she said gently. “At least I think so.”

Cole didn’t disagree. “It was different with Caroline after that. It happened so gradually that I didn’t notice at first, but I have to tell you that what altered was my perspective. Caroline remained as she ever was. I think I mentioned that she was persuasive, but it’s just as true that I no longer knew my own mind. I’d failed Whitley. I didn’t trust myself to know what was best. I sent her away to that seminary. Caroline was so certain it would be good for her. It wasn’t. They would have tried to turn her out in Caroline’s likeness, if you can imagine that.”

The thought of it curled his mouth. This time it was a real smile, faint, but appreciative. “Whitley knows something about resisting those kinds of efforts. She wore them out.

All of them.”

“She said you took her out of the school.”

“I did. I can also tell you honestly that I don’t know how much longer they would have let her stay.”

“Then the threat to send her back …?”

“A threat, mostly. Don’t misunderstand. There are other schools.”

“Uh-huh.”

Cole tried not to be moved by Rhyne’s ironic smile or the mischief in her eyes, but he was immune to neither. Not knowing if she would accept the overture or not, he held out his hand.

Rhyne did not try to argue with herself about it. She just went. He would have lifted the covers for her, but she didn’t allow him to do that. She did accept his hand and let him pull her closer. She sat back against the headboard beside him and tucked the blanket loosely around her. Their shoulders touched, and under the blanket, she sought out his hand and laid hers against it. His fingers closed over hers.

“Caroline was unhappy with my decision to bring Whitley back. She viewed my sister as a constant distraction to what was important: my career, our engagement, and her father’s legacy. I’m not certain of the exact order, but I finally understood that there was no place for Whitley in her life. She worried about Whitley’s future, but when I pressed to understand the nature of her concern, I realized that what she was afraid of was that Whitley would not make a good marriage, or worse, that my sister would attract the sort of notorious suitors that come around when there’s a fortune to be had.”

“Whitley has money?”

“God, no. Not yet. She’s what is properly called an heiress. My parents set up a trust that will be hers when she’s twenty-five.”

“Does she know?”

“Yes.”

“She never breathed a word.”

“I’m not sure that she ever thinks about it.”

“I’d
think about it,” said Rhyne. “A lot.”

Cole squeezed her hand. “Caroline did. There were generations of money in her family, most of it from shipping enterprises. Her father broke from the Erwin tradition when he became a physician. They were certainly well off, but not as rich as members of the larger family. Caroline saw marriage to me as a way to put the balance back.”

“You have money?”

“In addition to what the town pays me? Yes.” He turned his head to study her profile. She appeared deep in thought. “Are you reconsidering marrying me?”

Rhyne shook her head. “But I am going to ask you for a raise.”

Cole’s head knocked against the headboard as he started with laughter.

“Shh. You’re going to wake Whitley.” “Maybe I should.”

Rhyne refused to be baited. “Was there a last straw for you and Miss Erwin? You know, something that made you know for certain that you couldn’t marry her?”

“Oddly enough, it was at a dinner party, this one hosted by another physician from the hospital. Caroline accompanied me. Her father could not attend. I listened to her as attentively as every other person at the table that evening, but what I heard was her father’s voice. It was as if he were holding court. I knew then that she would never be happy allowing me to make my own way. I would have to follow in her father’s steps exactly. There could be no deviation. I understood then that I didn’t love her any longer because I finally knew her, and I realized she couldn’t love me because she would never know who I am. I was a long time reaching those conclusions, but ending the engagement was the proper course to take.”