Twelve

Kelston Hall’s drawing room

That same evening after supper

The suspense nearly drove Zander mad.

Would Lilly hire him?

Charles had not remarked upon the subject, and Zander had been reluctant to pry, in case it appeared he was attempting to manipulate the situation.

Zander observed Lilly from beneath hooded eyes as she sat on the settee embroidering a handkerchief, as if his very future did not rely upon her decision to hire him.

When faced with the empty cavern that was his memory and hence his life, this place provided him with the security and peace he desperately craved. He would bite off his tongue before admitting it, but the truth was, he was scared.

He had no past, so he yearned for a future.

Lilly gave no hint in demeanor or expression regarding how he had scored on the examinations.

Earlier, he had been confident he had performed well, but little sprouts of doubt tried to rear their bothersome heads. Like weeds in a flower garden, he rooted them out, but the troublesome misgivings kept creeping back.

Never was a woman so impossible to read. She had mastered masking her emotions and, no doubt, through much practice had perfected the skill to a fine art.

Only when surprised did her soft brown eyes reveal her feelings. Then merely long enough for her to marshal her composure with the efficiency and discipline of a combat general in His Majesty’s army before the bastions slammed closed.

A soft snore escaping him, Charles shifted in the armchair. His lanky legs stretched toward the hearth, his chin resting on his chest, and an open periodical laying in his lap, he dozed.

Zander canted his head and read the publication’s title before crinkling his forehead into a dubious frown.

The Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal .

Poor chap.

Even in his off hours, he was ever the physician.

If the contents of the magazine had not put Charles to sleep, his late nights had likely caused his unintended nap. Perpetual violet circles rimmed his eyes beneath his spectacles, and he often yawned, mid-sentence.

According to Mrs. B, Charles rarely slept through the night.

For, though he was one of three doctors in the area, he was the only physician who did not demand coin for his fees but accepted items in trade. Hence, his services were in constant demand from the poorer residents, and the children’s home regularly received interesting, if not useful, products.

Perhaps, it was his humble beginnings, Mrs. B. speculated, but Charles could not refuse to help anyone in need.

Upon further contemplation, that is likely where Lilly had acquired the hideous fabric for her gown.

After setting aside the travel book Zander had selected from the library earlier today, authored by Leonidas Westbrook— why did that name seem familiar ?—Zander stood.

Lilly raised her gaze and regarded him for an extended moment with that unfathomable mien.

What went on in that brilliant mind of hers?

He could almost hear the cogs grinding and the wheels whirring.

The edges of her mouth quivered the merest bit when he nervously cleared his throat.

The minx.

She enjoyed his discomfort.

Not out of maliciousness.

Lilly did not have a malevolent bone in her body, nor was she one to toss her authority about like rose petals at a wedding.

Zander suspected her satisfaction arose from having made a logical decision, not a choice resulting from feminine sentiment.

With unhurried movements, she stored her embroidery threads in her sturdy sewing box and tucked the needle into a small embossed red leather needle case. Once she had stashed her embroidery supplies to her satisfaction, she glanced toward Charles, still sound asleep.

“Let’s step outside, Zander, shall we?” she whispered as she swept across the room. “I do not wish to disturb Charles. The poor dear is in a constant state of exhaustion. What he needs is his own establishment in the village, but he will not consider leaving me to run the children’s home on my own. He vows a man’s presence keeps undesirables at bay.”

There was some truth to that.

Zander joined her at the terrace door.

“Except, he is rarely around to assist, is he?” he murmured, daring to point out the fact.

She gave him a sharp, slightly startled, sideways glance. “True, but it is not from deliberate neglect.”

Her soft tone held a thread of censure.

“I never meant to imply that it was.” Zander opened the door for Lilly, and she swept past him and onto the small back terrace. “I only meant, he is a dedicated physician, despite the toll it takes on him physically and mentally.”

“That he is.” She gave a nod. “Even as a child, he was serious and solemn. When he committed to something, he always saw it through to the end. That dedication has not waned in adulthood.”

An admirable trait.

Zander stared at the oak copse cast in twilight’s shadows across the meadow. An obscure memory swirled around in his brain.

He rubbed his nose with two fingers. “Some doctors cannot handle the death and anguish. It destroys their spirit because they blame themselves for not saving every patient.”

“You sound as if you know someone that happened to.” Lilly leaned her left hip against the balustrade, her face slightly turned upward as she gazed across the landscape. “Do you?”

As always, she was straightforward—no mincing words.

From the corner of her eye, she considered him.

“I honestly do not know.” He ran his palm along the smooth limestone balustrade.

At dusk, with the fading light of the day bathing her in gentle hues, she appeared lovely and feminine, despite the ugliness and severity of her gown. It did not escape Zander that the more time he spent with Lilly, the more attractive and desirable she became.

She glanced over at him.

“I have spoken with Charles, and he is in complete agreement.” A sincere smile warmed her features as she extended her hand. “We would like to offer you the teaching position at Kelston Hall Children’s Home, temporarily.”