Page 36 of A Noble Affair
There was a pause, and then, “Very good, Thomas. You did it. That was a strong squeeze too.” He grinned.
He heard the crash and turned towards the noise, Thomas’s hand still in his. Chastity stood in the doorwayin mute astonishment, her gaze going from Charles to her son, the porcelain cup shattered at her feet.
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Charles gazed steadily at Thomas’s mother and in a quiet voice, said, “Come.” He turned to the slim figure lying on the bed. “Thomas, your mom is here. Can you squeeze again for her?”
She darted to his side and took his hand in hers. “Hi, sweetie, I’m here. Can you squeeze my hand too?” There was no responsive pressure. The machines continued their calm and steady beeps.
“He’s out again,” Charles said. “I think that effort exhausted him. Butit was a significant leap. He was able to comprehend what I was saying and command a physical response in answer.”
Miss Whitmore’s cheeks were flushed, and the quick breaths betrayed her agitation. “I wish I could have felt him squeeze my hand. I wish he would wake up.”
“I’m pretty confident he will wake up in the next few days. But with brain injuries, it’s impossible to predictwith accuracy because we don’t know if the neurons have been damaged or just bruised. You have to be prepared that even if he does wake up, his will probably notbe a fast recovery, and we're unlikely toknow straight away the extent of his injuries." Charles resisted the urge to take hold of her hand. "I encourage you to hope for the best outcome, and let Thomas sense your hope.”
Their gazes locked, and Charles felt something flash through him. Awareness. Longing. He could see she was trembling.
“I cannot thank you enough,” she said.
Charles returned the smile, but shook his head. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“I know it was a coincidence for you to be herewhenThomas regained some awareness.” There was a crease between Miss Whitmore’s brows. “But I want to thank you for…what I can only describe as your friendship these past two weeks.” She blushed. “I’m sorry. I don't want to presume too much.”
“You’re not,” he answered quickly, anxious to reassure her on that point.“I hope you’ll come to me if you need anything.” Leaving the bedside, Charles went over to the door topick up the pieces of porcelainthat lay shattered, and he threw them in the garbage.
“I’ll ask the cleaning staff to come mop this up,” he said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. "Here's my card, which has my cell phone on it if you need to reach me.” Handing her a cream-colored card with gold lettering, he hesitated, strangely nervous. “My friends call me Charles.”
Her eyes darted to his, and she took the card. “Chastity.”
“Okay, then.” He snapped his leather gloves against his hand, almost reluctant to set out. “I'll check in on Thomas tomorrow.”
He left the room, a spring in his step.Chastity.
When the doctor was gone,all theemotions Chastity had held in check seemed to crash at once, leaving her exhausted. She was grateful for the steady beeps and the silence behind them that blanketed the room and the ward. She had too much to think about and desperately hoped Marc would not choose this moment to make an appearance. Wiping her palms on her jeans, she rested her forearms on the bed, her two hands touching her son. She laid her head on her arms.
Tommy. Her eyes welled with tears when she thought about him regaining consciousness. She took his hand and squeezed it, but his hand was limp in hers. If he was on his way to getting better…she would give anythingfor that to be so.
And then—the viscount. Mr. de Brase,Dr.de Brase—Charles. Her thoughts were a confused jumble when it came to this man. He had appeared so indifferent and cold as a father, and it seemed he acted out of sheer disregard for anyone else in his role at the school and the town. Yet he was so clearly warm and caring as a doctor, going beyond the dutiesrequired of him—even continuing to watch over her son when his week was over. She had noticed he was there today in casual clothes, not his doctor’s jacket. Why would he make the effort?
Chastity lifted her head and breathed out a sigh. It was like he had a split personality when she compared the two versions of him, but his behavior towards her since Tommy was injured was unmistakably sincere. Perhaps she had misjudged him initially. Did she dare ask him about his son? Ask if he had taken the time to seek help for him? She found that she wanted to reconcile the two personalities into one, and hoped the resultwould be one she liked.
Restless, Chastity stood suddenly and started walking across the small room. She yankedsome paper towels out of the dispenser and began to wipe the coffee off the door, absent-mindedly. No, she couldn’t ask him about Louis—couldn’t think about work. She would have to return to it eventually, and in some ways even wanted to. A few of her students had sent her cards at the hospital on their own initiative, which brought tears to her eyes. There was just not enough room in her mind and heart to think about that now. As much as Charles de Brase was starting to treat her like a friend, she felt she could not ask him such a question just yet. The two worlds had to stay separate for the time being. As such, the viscount-doctor would remain a mystery.
Having settled that, however unsatisfactorily, Chastity resumed her seat by Thomas’s side. Her mother's visit could not get here quicklyenough. The silence, although sometimes welcome, often threatened to drown her when she connected it with the absence of Thomas's chatter. And she was discovering that Marc’s presence was not the remedy.
If Charles,returning home, had been privy to Chastity’s reflections and questions regarding his inconsistency, he would have been surprised. Already the image of his son’s slightly annoying teacher of a few months ago was replaced by the woman he had spent time with every day for the past couple of weeks. If he thought about her role in his son’s life at all, it was to admire her tenacity in trying to help him. In this, he was reminded ofsomeone. A young bride…
He liked the way the creases in her brow gave way to smiles when he entered the room. He appreciated how Chastity looked him in the eye when he gave his medical opinion—and her regard was free of the predatory look he usually got from other single, beautiful women.
And she was beautiful, especially with her hair down that way.Mon dieu.
He was not in the habit of questioning his own motivations or actions except, perhaps, when it pertained to his son. He had inherited enough of his father’s character to be sure of his actions, and enough of his mother’s to think no one had a right to question them. In all areas this served—except for Louis.
Charles thought about the last time he had seen his son. It was around noon a couple days prior, and Louis had only just rolled out of bed. He was in the kitchen, having a piece of baguette smothered with butter and raspberry jam and a cup of black coffee. Louis had showered and was wearing clean clothes, but it was a set of weary eyes that he turned to his father.
Charles, who had only gone into the kitchen to discuss with his chef which catering companies they would use for the spring ball, was taken aback to see him there.
“Louis, it’s noon. Is that your breakfast? Why aren’t you…out?” He was chagrined to discover he didn’t know what his son generally did on Saturdays ever since Louis had declared himself finished with riding lessons. In fact, he didn’t even know who Louis’s friends were. Louis examined his plate and shrugged.
