“You certainly are.”
“While I was down there sweating my—” Mr. Dixon coughed at Constance’s raised eyebrow. “Well, being uncomfortably hot, I read about the surgery you performed on that lieutenant. Harper, was it?”
Wynn’s hand clenched. “Harkin.”
“Harkin, yes. What a revelation. A breakthrough that you credited in your write-up to having first been performed during the Battle of Cambrai. Do you realize what this means for the future of medicine? Components we long considered a mystery to science are finally being explored with the importance they deserve. You, my dear boy, are the tip of the spear.”
Dropping Svetlana’s hand, Wynn crossed his arms. An invisible shield lodged into place. “Aye, well, I can only hope that the field of cardiology pushes onward as misconceptions are broken.”
“It will! It most certainly will. What with men like you driving the charge. Those stodgy old dust bins have had their time. We need fresh blood to take risks, to give patients a fighting chance. Edinburgh Hospital is poised to take its rightful place among the greatest in the country. We need a man of vision like you to push our skills to the edge of capability. What do you say? Come and work with us. Be our tip of the spear.”
“I thank you for the compliment of asking me, but I must decline. Forgive me.” Jaw clenched, Wynn pivoted on his heel and receded down the darkened hall.
Svetlana’s heart ached after him, but she kept a polite smile on her face. “Mr. Dixon, you and your hospital do my husband a tremendous honor. Perhaps upon further reflection he will reconsider your offer. In the meantime, please enjoy yourself. We have a wonderful selection of delicacies and fine wines in the dining room, and don’t forget to make your bids in the silent auction. There is a pair of Spanish crafted basket-hilted swords that may be of interest. Excuse me, please.”
Leaving behind a puzzled Constance and Mr. Dixon, Svetlana swept down the corridor as apprehension hammered her heart. That wasn’t Wynn back there. That was a stranger who had stood with wounded confidence instead of seizing an opportunity of passion presented to him on a golden platter.
She found him in the solarium. An addition made to Thornhill when Constance was first mistress, the octagonal space was fitted with glass walls stretching to a central high point. Cold starlight bathed the room blue while the scent of potted ferns spiced the air, her maidenhair prize among them. It had taken happily to its new home, spilling its bright green fronds over the pot rim and stretching its roots deep into the rich soil she’d layered around it. It would take time before it was fully grown, but with enough care and solace the plant would flourish.
Wynn stood against the far wall, his arm leaning against the glass as he stared into the darkness of the moor rolling behind the castle.
“I’ve made my decision.” His breath fogged the glass.
It was foolhardy to ask him to reconsider. Once his mind was made up there was no changing its course. If nothing else, she’d learned that about him from the start. Of course, there was nothing stopping her from telling him what a fool he was for turning the offer down, but even that honesty died as she stepped farther into the room and noticed the downward slant of his shoulders. Shoulders that had always been carried erect and with purpose. It seemed he’d shrugged purpose off.
All her questions narrowed to one. “Why?”
“I’m not the man for the job.”
“Clearly they believe you are.”
“Then they’re mistaken. There are plenty of other well-qualified surgeons who could take on the position.”
“The hospital would have gone to them if that were true, but they came to you because you are the best. You do not fear what is right for your patients when your colleagues would leave them to the fickle hands of Fate and old medicine. As if castor oil did anyone any good.”
His blunt fingertips tapped against the glass. “You must have missed the article in Medical Now about the ten benefits it provides.”
“I doubt it can cure a bullet to the heart.” She moved closer, the thin heels of her shoes ticking across the flagstone floor. “Why did you say no?”
“It’s no longer my path.”
“Surgery has always been your path.”
His fingertips tapped harder. “And now being Duke of Kilbride is. You said it yourself.”
“I said you cannot abandon one for the other. This has nothing to do with taking on a title. Something happened to you the day you discovered Harkin died. You shut yourself off, and now you are trying to force yourself into a mold that you would rather not be cast in.”
He whirled around. The blue light slashed across his face, digging into the hollows and hardening the planes until they looked sharp enough to cut.
“But I don’t have a choice, do I? This title is what I am now.”
“It is not all you are. You are a surg—”
“It is all I am.”
Anger crackled through her. She flattened her hand at her side to keep from slapping sense into him. “What has happened to you? What has caused you to turn your back on the very thing that gives you purpose beyond all else?”
“You couldn’t possibly understand.”
“Then tell me! Help me understand. Ever since we returned from Glasgow I feel as if I have been dancing a pas de deux with a shadow partner.” As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth she realized the truth in them. She didn’t want to stand solo any longer, posture erect and footsteps precise as audiences waited for her to tumble under the spotlight. She wanted this man to whirl her onto their own private stage.
“I don’t know what a paw de doe is, but I’ve been right here all along.”
“In body, perhaps. Every other part of you exists somewhere I cannot reach. As if no one can reach you. What troubles take you so far away?”
“My troubles are not worth burdening you.”
“But I have been burdened, have I not? I simply do not know with what.”
“What is it you wish to hear?” He paced away, slashing a hand through his combed hair. “That my brother’s death has left a gaping hole in me? That I’m not the surgeon I once glorified myself to be? That any time I hold a scalpel there’s fear of a Harkin repeat?”
“Your brother’s death will stay with us always. There is nothing to be done but grieve and remember him. As for Harkin, what happened was not your fault.”
“He was my patient! Everything that happened to him was a result of me.”
“This God-like complex does not serve you well. Have you stopped to consider that the operation went perfectly and an unrelated event caused his ultimate demise? If you think everything ties back to you, you’re more egotistical than I originally credited you with.”
She’d never witnessed this side of him, and while it terrified her, she saw the pain of an infested wound oozing from him. One he seemed unable to patch himself, and that difficulty most likely hurt him all the more.
“A blow has been delivered, Wynn. Several. Reeling from the shock is to be expected, but you cannot stay that way forever. At some point you need to pick the pieces back up and move on, otherwise it is a life half lived.”