The wedding feast was a solemn affair with a few pastries and sandwiches allotted by the rations to feed the equally solemn guests as they gathered in Wynn’s Parisian townhouse. More specifically, Château Sable Bleu, which sat a mere stone’s throw from the grand Champs Élysées along the fashionable Rue de Faubourg Saint-Honoré, and belonged to Hugh as one of the many grand homes owned by the Duke of Kilbride. Since the war began, the house had been occupied by a major in Hugh’s regiment and the man’s wife. The major was killed a fortnight ago and the wife had gone back to England, returning the key to the MacCallans once again.
The night Wynn proposed to Svetlana, he’d whisked her here along with her mother, sister, and Mrs. Varjensky while he kept to his bachelor lodgings with the other doctors. That would change now.
“Congratulations, mate,” Gerard said as he put on his hat and coat to meet the bitter November air. “You’ve a charming bride, and I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
“Thank you for coming,” Wynn said. “Listen, I’ve been going over the charts for the influenza cases, and tomorrow I’d like to—”
“Tomorrow you’ll be here with your wife. Leave all hospital problems and thoughts to me.”
“Yes, but there’s—”
“The hospital can survive a few days without your brilliance blinding the patients. If there’s an emergency, I’ll know right where to find you. In the meantime, enjoy being married.”
Wynn’s gaze, heavy with doubt, drifted up toward the bedchambers beyond. “I’ll do my best.”
After seeing out his one and only guest, Wynn instructed the new maid to clear away the remaining food and then attend to her mistress upstairs. Wanting to give Svetlana as much time as she needed, he went to the study and pulled out the list of remaining expenses owed to Sheremetev that he and Svetlana had compiled the night before. Tallying them once more and throwing in a bit extra for cushion, Wynn wrote a cheque to the monstrous boar and signed it with a flourish. He then took out a blank sheet of stationary stamped with the Kilbride ducal seal and added a short note.
This payment hereby honors and discharges all debts owed by the Dalsky family to be paid here in full on behalf of Princess Svetlana MacCallan, Marchioness of Tarltan.
He signed his name at the bottom, relishing the weight of his full title for once.
There. The whole sordid deed was done. He’d have the money delivered to the White Bear first thing in the morning, and then he could begin arrangements for Svetlana and her family to travel to Thornhill. They would be safe at last on his family’s Scottish estate.
Hopefully soon the war would end and he could join them. Maybe start a new medical practice out of Glasgow. He and Svetlana would have to find themselves a new home, one with a large garden for her to plant roses in and for children to play in. He stopped himself at the fanciful dream. He’d promised her this was a marriage in name and appearance only. Yet in time he hoped it would become more. Much more.
Occupying himself for another hour, Wynn finally made his way up the winding staircase to the second-floor landing and knocked on Marina’s door.
Mrs. Varjensky bustled out carrying an empty bowl of soup. She said something and pulled his head down to plant two squishy
kisses on both his cheeks. “
Wynn kissed her back. “Good night,
Giggling like a little girl, the old woman clomped down the stairs. Wynn stepped into the room and took quick note of his patient now turned sister-in-law.
“How are you this evening, Marina?”
“Well, thank you.” Marina settled against a fluffy pillow in the oversize bed. “I’m only sorry to have missed the ceremony. But the bride should not have to worry about a fainting sister.”
“The important thing is you’re improving.” He moved closer to the bed. No sweating, clear eyes, pale cheeks, and full breaths. “A few days more and you might be able to move around a bit.”
“I couldn’t do it without Mrs. Varjensky’s nursing. Svetka tries, but she frets too much.” She yawned. “I know you’ll be good to her. She doesn’t think so, but she needs someone to take care of her. Good night. Brother.”
Wynn had moved to the door but stopped at her words. Could he live up to them? He was going to try. “Good night.”