“My God,” Mr. Keen murmured. He turned his head, his gaze sweeping the room before it settled on Marcus. He squinted, relaxed his eyes once more, and tilted his head in a contemplative manner. “Ye’re younger than I imagined.”
“Tell me what you see,” Marcus said, his body tense with increased hope.
Mr. Keen blinked. “There’s a table right there. It looks like it’s got a potted plant on it. An’ three books stacked to one side. There’s a picture on the wall above.” Mr. Keen stood and moved toward it. “It’s a countryside setting. With a manor ’ouse in the distance.”
Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re correct.”
“I know.” His patient turned toward him. A smile stretched wide on his face. “Thank ye, Mr. Berkly. Ye’ve worked a miracle for me an’ I…” Mr. Keen’s voice broke. He drew a sharp breath. “I’m most appreciative. Truly I am.”
“Your vision should improve further in the coming days as you adjust to the light,” Marcus said. “Rest is important. You mustn’t overtax yourself.”
“Duly noted.”
Marcus handed Mr. Keen a sheet of paper with instructions on how to manage this stage of recovery, what to expect, and what to look out for. “Let me know right away if you experience any of these symptoms.”
Mr. Keen agreed and took his leave, allowing Marcus a moment to relax before he saw his next patient.
“What did you think of the ball last night?” Redding asked when Marcus met him for luncheon a couple of hours later. They were joined by Viola Lowell, formerly the Duchess of Tremaine before she married Henry Lowell, Viscount Armswell’s heir. She was St. Agatha’s patroness – the impressive lady who’d founded the hospital with the inheritance she’d received from her first husband.
“Judging from the large crowd, it seemed immensely popular,” Marcus said right before biting into the sandwich he’d brought to work.
“You left a bit early though,” Redding mused. “Couldn’t help but notice. And since the Earl of Grasmere insisted I never invite you to mingle with good society again, I find myself wondering if he might have been the cause.”
Marcus swallowed his bite and washed it down with some water. “He didn’t appreciate finding his daughter alone with me on the terrace.”
“I should say not,” Redding said with a snort of amusement. Sobering, he asked, “Which of his daughters were you with?”
“It must have been Lady Louise,” Mrs. Lowell said, beating Marcus to the answer. “She’s the only one who’s unmarried and thus the only one who’d be compromised if she were found alone with a man.”
“And not just any man,” Marcus said, “but one whom no father would ever want as a son-in-law.”
There was a brief silence before Redding said, “If I had daughters of marital age, I’d welcome you to my family in a heartbeat.”
Marcus met the older man’s gaze. “Thank you. I appreciate your saying so, but you’re also far more accepting of strays with scandalous pasts than most.”
“Good grief,” Mrs. Lowell said. “You make it sound like you might have murdered someone when it was your father who did the dastardly deed. Holding you accountable for his crime is utterly absurd.”
“It is how the world of the peerage works,” Marcus said.
“That doesn’t mean I have to approve,” Mrs. Lowell told him, her eyes so hard Marcus wondered if she might be thinking back to when her own reputation had been tainted by scandal.
“No,” Marcus agreed, “but that doesn’t make my disgrace any less real. I lost everything when my father was tried and convicted: my title, the entailed property I was meant to inherit, investments, funds in our family account. Everything was seized by the Crown.”
“And yet, you don’t come across as bitter,” Redding said. “I think I would.”
“What would be the point?” Marcus shook his head while thinking back on the dreadful ordeal. “The only way to get past it has been to move forward – create a new identity for myself.”
“And so you have,” Mrs. Lowell said. “With remarkable success.”
“We’re lucky to have you,” Redding added.
Marcus nodded and took another bite of his sandwich. He hated being the son of the man who’d murdered the Duke of Windham’s father in cold blood. Whenever he thought of it, he was gripped by an incredible urge to scratch at himself, as if doing so would remove the stain of being related to such a monster.
“How did you respond to Grasmere’s request not to let me attend your social functions in the future?” Marcus asked Redding.
The duke smiled. “I told him to always expect your presence whenever I am the host.”
“Well done,” Mrs. Lowell said with a bright smile.
Redding shrugged. “I wasn’t about to chuck an excellent surgeon I also consider a friend only because an earl I barely know made demands.”
Mrs. Lowell pursed her lips while studying Marcus. “You weren’t by any chance caught in flagrante with the lady, were you?”
“Of course not,” Marcus said. “She happened to be on the terrace when I stepped outside to get some fresh air. We chatted a bit, but since we’d not been introduced, she thought it best to leave. She was almost at the door when her father showed up.”
I know who you are, Mr. Berkly, and as such, I demand you stay away from my daughter.
The words had followed Marcus all the way home, instilling in him a deep sense of lowliness he thought he’d long since shucked. Eight years ago, Grasmere would have been thrilled by the prospect of Marcus one day giving Lady Louise his attention. He’d been an honorary viscount, destined to become an earl. The future had been bright. Until it wasn’t.
In the years that followed he’d been forced to accept being someone else, a different person from the one he’d been raised as. There had been little choice but for him to make something new of himself since the education his father had insisted he get wasn’t suited to proper employment. So at the age of five and twenty, Marcus had started over.
“What did you think of her?” Mrs. Lowell’s voice tore Marcus away from his reverie.
No regrets. He’d promised his sister he’d have none.
“Of Lady Louise?” Marcus asked, just to be sure he’d not missed a change in the conversation. When Mrs. Lowell nodded, he allowed himself to ponder the woman he’d met the previous evening. He couldn’t exactly call her beautiful, and yet there had been an elusive something about her that made her unforgettable. He wasn’t sure what it was but… “I like her, though we hardly spoke enough for me to form a proper opinion.”
Redding exchanged a look with Mrs. Lowell, then said, “Perhaps you could—”
“Stop right there,” Marcus said. “If you intend to try your hand at matchmaking, then I suggest you refrain. Grasmere doesn’t want me near his daughter – in fact, I’m inclined to think he’d like nothing more than for me to leave Town permanently. And besides, you’re both making too much of a brief conversation if either of you believes I’ve any romantic interest.”