“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
“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
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