An accurate observation that he felt to the weariness of his marrow. “I managed to close my eyes for a few minutes in my office.”
“That is not resting.”
“Neither is sleeping in a chair.”
“No, but I suppose we both do what we can under the circumstances.” Rising, she stretched her arms fully above her head, then straightened each leg in turn with toes pointed. “I have full admiration for your nurses. They never come off their feet.”
He’d missed her unique way of phrasing words. Particularly when they weren’t barbed insults aimed at him. “You seem to hold your own as a nurse.”
“It is not my gift.”
Taking the chair from the empty bedside next door, Wynn carried it around to sit next to her chair. His knees popped as he sat.
“Then what is? What have you always wanted to be?”
“I am a princess.” She said it as if it were the only natural conclusion in the world. Her skirt rustled and peeking out from the shortened hemline were two black boots at perpendicular angles.
“Yes, but what did you want to do besides wear a tiara?”
“There is no wanting for a princess. This is what I am.” So self-assured. So confident of her placement in life. So devastating not to glimpse beyond her mold.
“Forget the title for a minute. Humor me.”
One eyebrow arched in regal disapproval. “Humor you? I am not some jester at court provided for your amusement.”
“No, it means to pretend. Let the inhibitions go and allow yourself to dream for one unguarded moment.”
She continued to eye him with questioning suspicion, but slowly her expression drifted inward as if her mind’s eye caught the glimpse of a fleeting dream. “A dancer.”
Spoken so low, he almost missed it, but there it was. A dream for herself outside the stuffy titles. “Ballerina?”
“The most beautiful kind there is.” She spoke softly, as if the dream were fragile enough to shatter in the open air.
He glimpsed a carefree woman living under the full sun beyond the cold shadows of duty and expectation. A chill he narrowly avoided himself.
“I was six when I began ballet. Eight when I slipped on my first pair of toe shoes. I remember feeling like Cinderella in her glass slippers.”
“Do you still dance?” He could have guessed given the muscle structure of her calves and her odd stretching, but he wanted to hear her tell it.
Sitting, her mouth turned down as she knotted her fingers together. “Not in the way I would like.”
Whatever tension his question had provoked was ruining the moment. He scrambled to rescue it before it was lost for good.
“What is it about ballet that you love so much?”
“The controlled elegance. Some believe it too rigid and confining, but I find a freedom in the structure of steps. My feet are grounded while the rest of me is allowed to express what cannot be formed in words.” Her eyes, softened by lantern light, sought his. “Can you make sense of that?”
“It’s how I feel as a physician. Surgery is a precisely controlled state of elegance that must answer to the needs of the body. I never feel more myself than when I’m standing at an operating table.”
“At the expense of the unfortunate person lying there.”
He gave a short laugh. “From their position I suppose they might think that, but when they arise—and they will if they’re my patient—they’ll be alive and mended and have gifted me with knowledge I can then use for the next patient. And the next after that. Like new partners for dances ever evolving.”
“I cannot comprehend your fascination with blood and cutting open people.” She shuddered. “But I am glad for it. The lives you save are immeasurable. I doubt many marquises can claim the same. Russian noblemen often consider it below their rank to put their hands to work.”
“I need to prove I’m something more than a title. My hands weren’t created to be idle, and I’ll push them to the limit every way I can.”
“And your family finds this agreeable?”
“My father told me before he died not to let being the second son keep me from making my life useful, while my mother encouraged me to reach for the impossible. Their support means a great deal to me. With stalwart Hugh to carry on the family legacy, I was left free to pursue my own passions and will continue to do so for as long as I’m able. We know so little of how the heart works, despite it being the center of our living bodies. Cardiology must be taken seriously if we are to—” He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “Sorry. My excitement on the subject gets out of hand.”