Chapter Four

Ian was poring over his notes in his office late one evening. Fatigue clouded his sight and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw, he still risked a glance at his timepiece. As suspected, it was even later than he’d estimated. This often happened when he was absorbed in his work; the night would come and go without his even realizing it.

The writing on the pages before him blurred before his eyes and forcing himself to stay awake wasn’t doing any good. He’d reached the point where his mind was sluggish, which accomplished nothing of any value.

He doused all but one candle, carrying it with him as he moved through the building’s lower floor. He checked the medicine cabinets where he locked away the more potent, hard-to-come-by medicines and herbs, and he ensured (twice) all the windows and doors were locked tight on both the lower and main floors before ascending the stairs to his private rooms above his business.

The building was three stories in height with a small, fully functional kitchen in the cellar alongside his medical practice. Although his current income allowed for it, he’d been supremely uncomfortable hiring a valet, butler, or bevy of maids. Instead, he made do with a single woman who would clean his private rooms while he was out during the day and then tidy his offices when he closed—except on these evenings when the distraction of his research kept him later than was reasonable. In addition to the cleaning, she also cooked him the simple foods he preferred, and, in return, he made it clear Mrs. Brown was welcome to bring along her young daughter on days when no one was available to care for her. He knew firsthand how difficult the world could be for a widowed mother of a young child. As daunting as the work seemed for an individual woman, it was a relatively easy job as far as cooking, cleaning, and housekeeping in London went. Growing up as he had, Ian was used to cleaning up after himself; he’d never had the luxuries a majority of his clients did. Most of his home’s private rooms were devoid of furniture by choice and had been closed up. As a bachelor physician, what use did he have for a dining room when he ate alone? Or a parlor when he was always the one making the house calls? He didn’t even think the extra bedrooms had been opened since he’d viewed the property before purchasing it; he couldn’t even recall the color of the papering on the walls.

Ian’s work was his life and his books were his friends.

Well…that was not entirely the truth. He did have some friends.

In addition to those connections he’d made in his travels, he’d become quite close with the new family of his longtime friend, Meredith. Though it had pained him to let her go when he realized she’d lost her heart to Viscount Sommerfeld, Ian took solace that Sommerfeld continued to treat Meredith well and made her undeniably happy. And if he didn’t…well, then Ian knew a thousand ways to kill a man…quite a few of which were untraceable unless one knew what to look for.

Ian’s foot froze above the first step when he heard the ring of a bell. He held his breath until it sounded again, then released it in one great whoosh. He rubbed his weary eyes with his thumb and forefinger. There was never to be a respite for him, was there? He couldn’t in good conscience ignore the caller. Surely someone at this hour had a good reason to seek out a physician’s care and, if they didn’t, then he’d send them on their way with instructions to return at a more reasonable time the following morning.

Ian descended the stairs to the kitchen and entryway to his medical practice. He unlatched the porthole in the door—specifically designed for this situation when it could be dangerous to unlatch the door to just anyone in the dead of night—and found a familiar face looking back at him, her fiery curls mostly covered by a traveling cloak.

“Meredith?” Ian cursed and quickly slid aside the deadbolt and unlocked the door for her. There must be something wrong to have brought her to his offices unannounced and, from the looks of the dark carriage accompanied only by a single groom and driver, relatively unaccompanied. The viscount was nowhere in sight.

“Is everything alright, lass?” he ushered her inside, forgetting all propriety in his worry. His heart throbbed in concern; a part of him would likely always feel this way about her; it was impossible to stop his habit of caring after so many years, even when she had someone else to care for her now.

“I think so—I hope so,” she stammered uncharacteristically and pushed back her hood. “I had to wait until George fell asleep before I could leave the house.”?“He doesn’t know where you are?” Ian frowned, knowing full well how upset he would be if he awoke to find his wife missing…and then discovered she’d slipped out to meet another man. “It’s extremely late; you shouldn’t have risked yourself coming here. You know these streets aren’t always safe. And what would Sommerfeld do if he found out you’d snuck out to see me, of all people?” Ian raked a hand through his hair and then took note of Meredith’s pallor, the slight tremble to her elegant hands. Setting aside his candle, he took her hands in his own and guided her over to a nearby wooden chair. “Take a deep breath. There; and now another. What is wrong? What is so urgent you had to come here without sending word first? You know I would have come to see you at the first opportunity.”

Meredith nodded shakily. “It couldn’t wait until morning; I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t tell George without seeking out confirmation first.” She then averted those glorious eyes of hers and shifted uncomfortably.

Ian squeezed her hands, his stomach sinking in dread. “Please, tell me, lass.”

“I—I know how awkward this might be for you…and I will gladly seek out another physician if you decline. Besides, I believe I know the answer.” She met his eyes. “I’m desperate for confirmation that I’ve conceived.”

Everything froze for Ian; time, the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins.

As her physician, he’d known of her struggles over the last four years; the false alarms, the waning hope. And now…

He had no more designs upon her (he’d never pursue a married woman and especially not one so obviously invested in her love match), but this felt so much more solidifying and permanent. The tentatively hopeful glint in her eyes heralded the closing of a door upon a part of his life. He’d believed himself in love with this woman before him while she’d never seen him as more than a friend. An older brother. And now, if her suspicions were correct, she’d finally be starting a family of her own—something he knew she’d always craved with deep-seated desperation.

Though it pained him deep in his gut, Ian agreed with a nod of his head to examine her and provide his best assessment.

He showed her into his office and, as he scrubbed his hands, he inquired as to her symptoms. Was she ill in the morning? When was the date of her last courses? The last presented complications because her body had always been erratic. He then performed his examination, allowing her as much dignity and modesty as he could. And when he told her he suspected her to be at least ten weeks along in her pregnancy, if not slightly more, Meredith crumpled into him. Her slim shoulders heaved with her every grateful sob and she clutched the front of his shirt. Ian simply hugged his friend to him as her joyful tears soaked through the fabric. He held her close and allowed her to feel it all.

What Meredith didn’t know was that Ian and her husband had had a few late-night meetings of their own. At first, the viscount had asked if there was anything he, as her husband, could do to help Meredith. It had taken an enormous amount of humility for Sommerfeld to approach him about this, but Ian supposed it was another mark in favor of the man’s deep, abiding love for Meredith. Unfortunately, there was little advice Ian could provide that he hadn’t already passed along to Meredith. Fertility was, as yet, something medicine seemed incapable of grasping fully.

The latest meeting with the viscount had shifted at one point to a subject Ian had long considered broaching. It was a surgical repair of the viscount’s injured leg, but it would involve re-breaking the limb and carried the risk of leaving him with even less mobility than he currently had. Sommerfeld had balked and stormed out, and Ian chose to leave things as they were; the man didn’t need any other reasons to dislike him. Perhaps, in his own time and after he realized the physicality of raising a child, the viscount might change his mind.

“There now,” Ian murmured, chafing Meredith’s back with his broad palms. He was happy for her—really, he was—but he also wanted to remain realistic about the situation. She’d yet to conceive to their knowledge and this might place this pregnancy in a precarious state. Her body had yet to prove it could successfully carry a child. Meredith sat back and swiped at her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from a pocket in her skirts. “I’m pleased for you, Meredith. Truly, I am. I know how long you’ve wished for this.” She rewarded him with a grateful, watery smile. She’d wanted nothing more than to have her biggest dream fulfilled and it was obvious that she’d worried about how it would hurt him. Her kind and thoughtful heart was one of the reasons he’d proposed to her four years prior. “But you must take it easy in these precarious early weeks.”

She nodded. “Of course.” If anyone understood the subtext, it was the woman who had stood beside him as they’d absorbed her uncle’s medical lessons and lectures.

He scribbled some notes on a piece of parchment for her and fixed a pouch of ginger root for her to chew if nausea began to trouble her in the mornings. “Let me know if you are concerned about anything at all,” he said as he presented the items to her, but he held onto them when she would have plucked them from his fingers. “But promise you’ll send word next time instead of traversing the streets in the dead of night without your husband to see you arrive safely.”

She gave a little laugh and agreed as she tucked the paper and packet into her pocket.

“Thank you, Ian,” she said as he walked her to the back door.

“Of course.”

“I know this can’t have been easy for you—”

“Think nothing of it,” he interrupted her and meant it. “I’d far prefer you seek out my care than place yourself in the hands of another physician.

Meredith smiled and squeezed his hand. “My uncle would be so proud of the man you have become.”

Ian squeezed her hand back, feeling only the warm camaraderie of decades of friendship.

“And I know he’d be quite proud of how you saved a young woman from being crushed beneath the wheels of a cart.” There was a mischievous glint in her indigo eyes. Ian tensed, immediately knowing exactly to whom she was referring. He hadn’t stopped thinking about that woman since he’d left her Townhouse the prior week.

“I did nothing heroic,” he replied, attempting to affect a nonchalant persona even though a part of him itched to know what Meredith would say about Lady Juliette. Unfortunately, Meredith knew him too well to fall for it.

“Don’t worry; you made quite the impression upon her as well.” She patted his upper arm and flipped her hood back over her head. Her words left Ian baffled. There was no possibility that he’d left more of an “impression” upon Lady Juliette than she had on him with her impressive mind, bewitching eyes, and lips made to be kissed. He’d had far too many quiet hours to ponder the last. “You are still attending our supper on Friday, correct?” The abrupt topic shift confused him, but he nodded in agreement. “I believe Lady Juliette and the earl will be in attendance as well.” The warring emotions inside of Ian made him more than a little uncomfortable. He was excited by the prospect of seeing her once more, as well as the roiling pragmatism that he could never have her. Ian didn’t quite know how to respond. Meredith, however, knew precisely what to do: She played to the physician he was.

“At the minimum, it wouldn’t hurt to look in on your patient. We should ensure Lady Juliette doesn’t overtax herself after her injury.”

Ian, finally fully understanding what was going on, looked heavenward for strength before replying. “I will attend for you, but the last thing I need is anyone playing at Matchmaker.” Meredith opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “May I see you home?”

“Thank you, no. I am quite safe in the carriage and it’s not all that far.”

He saw her off and, as the carriage continued down the alley to the main street, he ducked back into his home to re-bolt the door. He set about tidying and cleaning all over again, making sure all the locks were secured once more (twice), and finally ascended the stairs to his bedchamber.

As he lay atop the cold mattress, Ian was surprised to realize that he wasn’t as tortured by the thought of Meredith carrying another man’s child as he thought he might once have been. Instead, he pondered new foreign phrases with which to challenge Lady Juliette.