Page 82 of The Lady's Last Mistake
Mr. Mansouri shook Grant’s hand, thanking him, and they left. He stayed where he was, still rocked by the revelation that had just smacked him in the back of the skull. What was he going to do?
The clamor of the front door opening and shutting, then footfalls coming toward the surgery, distracted him from the overwhelming question.
Tris barreled into the room, and Grant snapped to attention.
“Lady Cassandra has found Isabel,” he panted. “She wants me to bring you. She says Isabel is sick, too.”
Grant broke from his numbed hold and hurried to his desk, for his medical bag. “Where?”
“A church in Shadwell. St. Paul’s.”
He knew of it, and it wasn’t far. “Hannah, close up the clinic and have Merryton bring you home.”
“Grant—” she began, but then stifled her objection. “Just be careful.”
He kissed her cheek and nodded, then followed Tris as he raced from the clinic.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
St. Paul’s Church, near the river, still had the gleam of newness about it. The parish’s previous church had been demolished and this new one, a commissioners’ church, had only recently been erected, along with the adjacent rectory and school. Sister Nan often lamented the new design, saying the original structure had been more impressive, and besides, Parliament could have put the money that was used to build it to much better use. “The parishioners can’t eat limestone or brick, can they?”she was fond of saying.
As Sister Nan guided the small wagon toward the church, Cassie held the basket firmly in her lap. Caroline’s baby boy was wrapped snugly in flannel and wool, and as Mrs. Powers had just finished feeding him, he’d slept contentedly as they wended through the streets. Now, however, he made little sounds as he wriggled and stretched awake. His fist popped out from the wrappings, and Cassie carefully eased it back in.
He was the most adorable thing, with wisps of black hair and a pouty bottom lip that made her smile. MaybeCaroline had been wise not to hold him, so as not to grow attached. If she had no memory of what he looked like, would she be better able to heal? It was possible. But Cassie could not go so far as to wish she had done the same after her daughter had been born. She cherished the short amount of time she’d held her baby too much to wish it gone from her memory, even if it was excruciating to remember at times. The determined strength of her little girl’s hand as she gripped Cassie’s pointer finger, the impossibly soft skin of her wrinkled feet, and the sweet, immaculate scent of her head when she’d kissed it, murmuring a promise to never forget her, were memories that could fill her heart and keep it beating as easily as they could rip apart small pieces of her soul.
“You’ve done this before with your own,” Sister Nan said as she turned the horse toward the rear of the churchyard.
Cassie looked up from the basket and met the nun’s gentle, knowing smile. She saw no judgment, no censure. “How could you tell?”
“The look in your eyes when you watch him.” She slowed the horses to a stop inside a small, enclosed gravel square between the church and rectory and pushed the hand brake into position. Then, the older woman rested a hand on Cassie’s arm.
“I know the pain myself, so I can see it in others easily.”
Cassie blinked, stunned. This Anglican nun couldn’t possibly… But when Sister Nan nodded in confirmation, she felt ashamed for doubting her. Cassie had presumed too much.
“Does it ever get any easier?” Cassie was suddenly desperate to know.
“Yes,” Sister Nan said with a thoughtful nod. But then she frowned. “And no.”
Cassie knew her meaning without having to ask.
“But we do our best,” she went on. “We find new things and new people to love.”
At that word—love—a face sprang to mind, unbidden. His vibrant green eyes, and his dimples whenever the playful quirk of his lips converted to a wicked grin. His unruly black hair that always seemed to draw her fingers toward it. But it wasn’t just Grant’s handsome face that came to mind; it was how she felt when she was with him. Yes, he infuriated her. Yes, he had pressured her into a false courtship that had been a hindrance from the start. And yet, there was no use denying that even with all that, whenever he entered a room, she felt better than she had before, when he had not been there. The truth was, Cassie would rather be locked in an argument with Grant than be alone, or with anyone else. With Grant, she was accustomed to feeling her blood rise, but lately, it was with more thrill than it was with irritation. Now, after their night at Lindstrom House, the difference was even more pronounced.
How could she have been so rash? How could she have not seen that she was already in love with him, and that one night would never be enough? Without even knowing it, she’d given away her heart to yet another man who would not offer for her. And this time, she’d asked him not to.
“Come now,” Sister Nan said. “I’ll show you to Isabel.”
Now that it was evening, lanterns and candles lit the inside of the church, but it was the large rectory and school she led them toward.
“The rector knows we take in orphans to place out,” thenun said as they entered a side door to the rectory. “But he wouldn’t approve of sheltering an unmarried mother here. So, I’ve kept Isabel’s presence to myself.”
She took Cassie down a corridor, toward where Sister Nan and a few other nuns resided. She explained that the rector’s rooms were on the opposite side of the building, and since he never trespassed here, so long as Isabel stayed inside and was quiet, he would not notice her.
The nun stopped at a door and knocked lightly before unlocking it. Isabel sat on the edge of a narrow bed, back straight and tensed in preparation to run. But then she saw Cassie, and her shoulders sagged. “Miss Banks, thank goodness, it is you.”
