Leslie LaFoy Read Online Free PDF Page B

again. “All ready for you to go in, ma'am,” he drawled. “The doc suggested you ask that some of Mr. Patterson's nightclothes be brought over from his place.”
    Of course. She'd been so preoccupied with her own selfish concerns that she hadn't thought of Richard's needs at all. Ashamed of herself, Lindsay nodded. “I'll speak with Mrs. Beechum about it as soon as I can.”
    “I'll be glad to speak with her for you, if you'd like. It'll speed matters up a bit.”
    His presumption to take charge of her household rankled, but she couldn't fault his logic. “That would be most considerate of you,” she answered. “Please tell Mrs. Beechum to request that Richard's man, Havers, bring any necessary items for both Richard and himself. I think it best that Havers take up temporary residence here. Assuming he's willing to do so.”
    “Consider it done, ma'am.” He bowed slightly and then strode down the carpeted hall.
    Lindsay watched him until he disappeared down the stairs, noting how long his legs were, how purposeful his stride. What a shame that they were adversaries; having an ally of Jackson Stennett's age and with his sense of self-possession might have been a pleasant experience. Lindsay sighed, shook her head to dispel the pointless musing, and entered the guest room.
    The light flooding in the windows couldn't cheer the scene before her. Richard lay pale and still in the big four-poster bed, his skin as white and lifeless as the linen sheets, the slow rise and fall of the coverlet the only sign that his soul still lingered in his battered body. She met Dr. Bernard's gaze across the bed. “Do you have any hope at all?” Lindsay asked softly.
    “I've seen miracles,” he answered, closing his black bag and buttoning his coat. “They do happen.”
    Not in her life. What good fortune had ever come her way, she'd fought for and willed into existence. “Can you operate?”
    The physician sighed hard and long. “It's a highly dangerous procedure. And you know Richard's feelings on such measures, Lindsay. We both know that if he were capable of speaking, he wouldn't allow it. I can't ethically undertake surgery in this case. Please try to understand.”
    She did, all too well. How many times had Richard railed at his paralyzed legs and cursed the years he'd been confined to his wheeled chair? How many times had he told her that he wished he'd been killed in the carriage accident?
    “He's not in any pain, Lindsay,” the doctor said softly, pausing at her side on his way out of the room. “Have you sent for Havers?” When she nodded, Dr. Bernard laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “That's good. Send for me if you need to. Day or night.”
    “Thank you for everything,” she managed to say before her throat swelled with tears. The door closed behind him and the sound, soft and final, tore the last stone from the wall of her reserve. Hot tears flooded silently over her cheeks. Her knees went weak and she staggered forward to cling to the ornately carved column at the foot of the bed.
    “Oh, Richard,” she whispered brokenly. “What should I do?”
    Silence. The coverlet rose and fell slowly. Sunlight streamed through the windows and fell full across Richard Patterson's masklike face. The curtain needed to be drawn, she realized, sniffling. That much light would never do.
    Surrendering to grief would never do, either. Richard might not feel any pain, but if he had any awareness at all he wouldn't be pleased to have her standing beside his bed, carrying on like a brainless ninny. The situation had to be faced squarely and rationally. And she certainly couldn't go downstairs and face Stennett with red eyes and tearstained cheeks. Any leverage she might have would be completely undermined by such evidence of emotional weakness.
    “Richard, I've seen the Will,” she said, crossing the room. “And we don't have much room for maneuvering. We could try to break it in court, but at what cost? We're financially