Give All to Love (20 page)

Lyon Cahill smiled, his brown eyes drinking her in eagerly. “One at a time, me proud beauty. Jove, but you look nice in that red—er, thing.”

“I hope you know more about your surgical procedures than you do about ladies' apparel,” she scolded, sitting down again. “It is a Spencer, foolish boy. And I wear it over my gown because the weather has turned so cold.”

He perched against the edge of her desk, folding his arms across his broad chest and regarding her with such patent joy that she blushed a little. “Well, it's very fine on you,” he declared. “As for the operation”—his face clouded—“it went so well. We did it last week. Belmont said it was superb, but … the patient died next day, poor fellow.”

“Oh, Lyon! I am so sorry!”

He sighed. “Shock, mostly. And it was so high, you know. Had it been at the knee, perhaps…”

Josie shuddered. “How frightful it must be. I cannot bear to think of such an ordeal.”

“I was talking to Belmont about it. He worked on the streets of Brussels during Waterloo. He arrived after the battle started, and was kept so busy with returning wounded, he never had the chance to get out to the field. He told me he will not soon forget the bravery of the men whose limbs he had to amputate without so much as a drop of laudanum. Most of them uttered not a sound.”

“And soon died,” she said dismally.

“Not all, m'dear. He had quite an impressive rate of survivals. We can do much better in his lordship's private hospital, of course. And would do better yet could we but find some way to alleviate the pain.” He frowned. “That is our biggest hurdle, and irremediable, alas.” He saw the distress in her expressive face and added heartily. “Well, enough of me and my burgeoning career. Where's the guv'nor?”

She smiled up at him. “Yours, or mine?”

“Mine. Does he go along all right?”

“Excellently well. I believe he is becoming more accustomed to his crutch.”

“He stuck to just the one, then? Famous! I never thought he would! It's so miserable for the poor man. Does he seem very wretched?”

“No! Never look so anxious. Guy is happier than I've seen him in an age. Indeed, he is out driving at this very minute—all alone.”

Lyon's jaw dropped. “But—but he never goes out alone! For one thing, he is not strong enough, and for another, he knows how people feel about him. Was some group of blockheaded yobboes to come upon him, Lord knows what might happen!”

Alarmed, she cried, “Oh, my! I'd not thought of that! And he has been driving out every afternoon this past week and more. I thought only that he needed a change, for the dear creature has been working so hard.”

“Working?” Mystified, Lyon asked, “At what, dare I ask?”

“You may, but I shall not answer.” She dimpled at him mischievously. “It is a secret. None of us is allowed to see until he presents his task,
le fait accompli.
”

“I see you've been up to your tricks again! What else have you been about?”

“Very much. Oh, Lyon, I never dreamed there was so much involved in giving a simple little ball.”

“Little!” Devenish, who had come in a moment after Lyon, but had stood quietly unobserved until now, crossed to welcome the new arrival. Lyon was startled to note that Devenish was using a walking cane, but he did not comment.

“Never allow yourself to be coerced into hosting a ball,” warned Devenish. “You'll be badgered to death from morn till night, and driven from under your own roof by the pandemonium. The ladies, God bless 'em, are gone quite berserk!” He went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of sherry, one of which he handed to Lyon. “Sit down, my dear fellow, and tell us all your news. I fancy you've some bragging to do.”

Lyon sat as close to Josie as he dared, and apprised Devenish of the sad results of his initial venture into surgery.

“One takes one's chances when you butchers sharpen up your little knives and saws,” said Devenish, rather unmoved. “I feel sorry for his lady wife, but—” He paused, watching the young man curiously. “Cheer up, nipperkin! I'm quite sure you did your very best.”

Lyon, who had been frowning into the fire, started. “Oh—my apologies. You know, our old London is strange at times. When I left the surgery that day, a man was waiting for me. The nurse said he'd been there for an hour. He was a well-set-up old fellow. Thin, neatly dressed, with snow white hair and a pair of the most snapping black eyes I ever saw.”

“Wanted you to amputate that white thatch, I'll warrant,” said Devenish with a wink at Josie.

“You're out there, Dev. He wanted me to look at his—dog.”

“Dog?” echoed Josie, incredulous. “Whatever did you say?”

“Be dashed if I see anything remarkable about that,” said Devenish, at once indignant. “Animals need doctors just as badly as do human beings.”

Josie pointed out smilingly, “We have a very good farrier in the village.”

“Farrier, my eye! What we need are veterinary surgeons. I doubt there are a hundred the length and breadth of England!”

“Well, we've some fine veterinary schools now, at least,” said Lyon. “Will someone pray tell me how we came to discuss this deficiency?”

“You started it,” Josie accused, but with her fond gaze on Devenish. “You dared to say the fatal word—dog. You might have known 'twould set old Rat Paws off!”

They all laughed, and Devenish said, “
Mea culpa,
as usual! Do go on, Lyon. What about the aged gent's animal?”

“Well, I looked at it, of course. Poor creature had a small twig that had somehow worked down into its ear. I was able to get it out. Much thanks I got!” He held out one badly bruised hand.

“You'd likely bite someone had you a twig in your ear,” said Devenish. “Were you reimbursed for this work of mercy?”

“Not a sou. But—do you know—” Lyon's gaze returned to the fire—“before I left, the old fellow suddenly asked if my name had always been Cahill.”

“Did he, by God!” Devenish sat up straighter.

Josie said intently, “Then he knew you, Lyon?”

“So I thought. And I'd a feeling I'd seen him somewhere before. But Belmont called for me, and when I went back, the old gentleman was gone. He'd left me a note, though.” He took a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to Devenish. “Oddest thing.”

Unfolding it, Devenish read aloud the message that had been inscibed in a neat, rather spidery hand. “‘You think not to have been paid. You have eased the suffering of the one being on this earth that I ever have loved. Payment will be in keeping with the value of your help. Lavisse.' Hum…”

“Quite correct, dear Gaffer,” said Josie. “The thoughtful grunt.”

He grinned at her absently. “Lavisse … Is it familiar to you, bothersome child?”

She shook her head.

“Lyon!” Guy hobbled to join them, his cheeks aglow from the cold.
“Bienvenu, mon fils!”

Lyon jumped up and they shook hands, the brown eyes and the hazel ones warm with the affection they shared.

“How well you look, sir!” Lyon said gladly. “This Devencourt air must agree with you. And you are walking so much easier!”

“All thanks to my so clever investment in yourself. Do you know, Lyon, I really think that very soon I shall be able to manage with just the cane.”

Josie murmured. “You would seem to progress as rapidly as Dev retrogresses.”

Guy looked embarrassed, Devenish was apparently absorbed by his wineglass, and Lyon directed a shocked glance at his beloved, amazed that such an unkind remark could have issued from the lips of so kindly natured a girl.

There was little time for reflection. Guy was full of questions about his stay in Town, and then Lady Godiva came trotting in and took up residence at Devenish's feet, this prompting a joint recital of the fall of Sir William and the subsequent events. Josie, Devenish, and Guy all collaborated in the telling, and the tale became so amusing that the air rang with laughter and the time flew.

At five o'clock, Devenish and Guy excused themselves and went upstairs to change their clothes. Lyon was alone with his love, but his attempt to declare himself was foiled, Josie saying that she also must change. The best he could do was to obtain her promise to meet him in the bookroom in an hour's time and to accompany him on a short walk before dinner.

Josie was not one to keep a gentleman waiting interminably while she decided which bracelet to wear, and he had been in the bookroom for only ten minutes when she entered, wearing a rich grey velvet cloak over her full-skirted evening gown of blue silk, and with sapphires sparkling in her ears. Lyon shrugged into his redingote and led her out through the French doors.

The early evening was chill, with vapours swirling listlessly about, but the air was fresh and clean, and Josie, who had been in the house most of the day, was only too pleased to take Lyon's arm and walk along the drivepath towards the distant lodge gates.

“At last, I have you all to myself!” he said triumphantly. “I've waited and waited, for I have so much to say to you.”

She said, “It is nice, isn't it? We all are so proud of you, Lyon. Can you stay for the ball, or must you go home first?”

“'Fraid I must. I shall have to pack, and I've a few patients to look in on before I come. However, I've already had a few words with Dev, and—” He checked. “Josie, how long has he been using that cane?”

Her chin set and for a moment she did not reply. Then she said, “A few days. If he remembers.” She frowned darkly. “It is all fudge, Lyon, and done purely to convince me of his age and decrepitude.”

Much shocked, he asked, “Why should he wish to do so? To keep you with him? I cannot credit that he would be that selfish!”

“It is only amazing how much less infirm he is when Isabella Scott-Matthias is about! You'd scarce believe the transformation.”

“Is she about, then? I fancy her ladyship stirs up the neighbourhood! She's certainly a glorious sight.”

“She is interested in stirring only one gentleman. She and her brother were invited to my party, but I doubt they'll come after the contretemps with Sir William. My, but they left in a flame.”

“I fancy Dev was glad enough to see
him
leave.” He frowned suddenly, a suspicion striking him. “He thinks Fontaine has a
tendre
for you.”

She smiled faintly and, noting his expression, enquired, “Don't you like Lord Elliot either?”

“I think him a well enough fellow, but—perhaps Dev's dislike is justified. He's not one to take people in aversion in the usual way.”

“Well, he has this time. As a matter of fact, they were so mutually enraged at one point that I really fancied they would come to cuffs.”

Lyon whistled softly. “I'd not like to see Dev go out with a man of Fontaine's reputation. You must try if you cannot calm him, Josie.”

She said nothing, her brow furrowed.

Cahill clapped a hand to his head. “What a pudding head to so waste my opportunities!” He halted, faced her, and, nerving himself, said in an unsteady voice, “Josie, I am going along quite well in my profession. I'll never have the fortune of a Fontaine, or of John Drummond, for that matter, but in a year or so I could give you a comfortable life, and— Well, Dev has come to think you are old enough to wed, so will you make me a very happy fellow please, and—and say you will marry me?”

It was done! He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his sweating brow.

“Poor Lyon,” she said, both touched and troubled by this clumsy proposal. “What an ordeal for you. And how very dear to be asked such a question by one of whom I am so fond, and who is, I suspect, fond of me…”

“Oh, Lord!” he groaned, clutching at his hair. “How could I be such a blockhead? I knew I'd spoil it! But, surely you know—” He took her by both arms. “Of course you know. I've been in love with you for years and years.”

She detached her arms and took his hands instead, saying gently, “I think perhaps I did know, my dear friend. And I am indeed most deeply honoured, but—”

He paled and jerked away, interrupting harshly, “But you do not want me.” His eyes were bright with anger and there was a bitter twist to his mouth.

Josie knew that look and said, distressed, “I want you and always shall, for my loved friend, but—”

“There is not the need to sugar-coat it, I thank you. I'm gallows-bred, I know.”

“What a horrid expression! As if you are, Lyon. And if it were a matter of birth, my own is no better than yours.”

Standing half-turned from her, he growled, “I doubt that. Whoever your parents, they were likely of better quality than mine. Besides, you've the chance to raise yourself far above my station. I was a fool to hope—”

“No, no!” She caught at his arm, and said tearfully, “Lyon,
please
do not be so unhappy. I care for you deeply, for you are one of my dearest friends. It is just—I have no plans to marry yet. But—but when I do, it will not be for wealth or rank or social position, but because I love with all my heart and soul. And am as loved in return.”

He was not greatly surprised, for he had sensed she did not return his devotion, but he had clung to hope, and it was very obvious that for him there was none. All his pride in his really splendid achievements crumbled to dust. For the first time he wished that Guy Sanguinet had never taken him up; that he had been left in the gutter, where at least he would have been with his own kind, and not inspired to aim for the impossible in life. A life that now loomed ahead in cold emptiness.

Some of his bitter despair showed in his face, and Josie was shattered. “Lyon,” she pleaded brokenly, “do not hate me. You'll find the right—”

“Oh, spare me! Shall we go back to the house?”