“No, it’s what she thinks of herself. She knows her parents purposely abandoned her. She’s afraid that everyone she cares for will eventually abandon her. She’s feeling it particularly hard this year. We have to do something, Adam. Even though you claim to have lost your faith, you’re still Wellesford’s vicar. How do we convince her we care about her? That we’re her family?”
“Words won’t do it. We’ll have to show her.”
“But how? I’m no good at this sort of thing. I’ve lied to her and myself about my feelings for so many years. She passed up two offers of marriage while waiting for me to come to my senses.” He grunted in dismay. “Poppy loaned her that book about love the women all believe is magical. Felicity is skeptical. I think she’s lost all hope of ever finding love. This is my fault. How do I make her believe?”
“I don’t know. We are two faithless, displaced Scots. Who ever thought we’d be having this conversation? Well, leave it to me. As you said, I’m the vicar. I had better come up with an idea.” He paused a moment and shrugged. “I think I know what to do. I just hope it works.” He glanced across the bookshop toward her bedchamber. “Put a robe on her. Make her as presentable as you can.”
“Why? What are you planning?”
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Not quite sure. I’m supposed to be good at this piety business. We’ll see if I am. Maybe I’ll get you back into the church and believing again.”
Angus snorted. “Just get on with it. Hurry back with the food.”
“Right. I’m on it.” He opened the door to step out. The sun suddenly burst through the gray clouds. “See, the Lord is on my side. But send dogs out to search for me if I don’t return within the hour.”
Angus merely shook his head as he watched his friend trudge off through the snow that was thigh deep in spots. Despite Adam’s glib remarks and casual demeanor, Angus knew he was firmly committed to doing good.
Almost every man in Wellesford had seen war at one time or another, survived savage battles that could break a man’s faith. But everyone dealt with their experiences differently. Some men were able to absorb the pain and move forward with their heart and conscience intact. Others were broken by what they’d lived through.
As for himself, he gone into the army a broken man. Turning to medicine had saved him, given him the ability to heal others even if he could not heal himself.
Adam had turned to the church to seek his faith for similar reasons.
He trusted Adam.
But how could two men who’d lost faith bring about a miracle for Felicity?
Angus shut the door before the icy wind blew in. He returned to Felicity’s bedchamber and went to her armoire to see what he could find for her to wear. He immediately noticed a robe neatly folded on one of the shelves. It was a pale gray, woolen robe and simple in design. No adornments. No silk ribbon at the sleeves, no embroidery. He’d get her something finer once they were married.
Assuming she’d have him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him dig through her shelves.
“Making you presentable.”
She gasped. “Oh, I must look awful!”
“No, you look beautiful.” Bollocks, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t an idiot, yet he could not ever find the right words when talking to Felicity. “But you’re wearing only a nightgown, and we’ve just sent over to the Golden Hart for food. I doubt Mrs. Cummings will deliver it herself. She’ll probably send over her boys.”
He took the robe and strode to her side. “Let me help you put it on.”
When she nodded, he gently placed her good arm through the sleeve but left the other sleeve draped over her injured arm.
He then poured a little water from the ewer on her night table onto a clean cloth. “Close your eyes, love.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“As you wish, Miss Billings. But it won’t change the fact that I love you. And don’t you dare burst into tears again. Get used to my saying it. I’m not going to stop loving you.” He dabbed the cloth over her eyes and along her lips. He ran it over her cheeks and then along her neck. “I’ll brush your hair next.”
He retrieved her hairbrush and a black ribbon because he couldn’t find a gray one to match her robe. He returned to her side, sat on the bed beside her, and carefully lifted her into a sitting position. “I’ll prop more pillows behind you to make you more comfortable when I’m done.”
He ran his fingers lightly through her wavy locks. Her hair felt soft as silk. “Let me know if I hurt you.” He was careful not to brush too near the lump on her brow. Thankfully, it hadn’t grown bigger, but he needed to apply more ice to the area. He’d do so once he finished with her hair.
Uncertain what to do next, he swept the lush mane all to one side, leaving it long and loose so that it fell over her shoulder and curled around her breast.
Well, that wasn’t going to work. Every man’s eyes would be drawn there immediately. His were. He couldn’t stop ogling her. “Bollocks,” he muttered, brushing back the glorious mane so that her rich, lustrous curls cascaded over her pillow instead. He tied it all back with the ribbon.
She regarded him silently all the while, the hint of a smile on her face.
Face of an angel.
She looked incredibly beautiful.
It didn’t matter that she had a broken arm or had a reddish-purple lump on her forehead that looked like the eye of a cyclops. Nor did it matter that she had a swollen ankle resting upraised under the covers.
She was still the prettiest woman he’d ever set eyes upon.
Once he’d made her suitably comfortable, he rose to fetch her a cup of tea and a plate of dry biscuits to nibble on until her broth arrived. He had just started reading to her from Mrs. Radcliffe’s novel, The Mysteries of Udolpho, when the bell above the bookshop door tinkled. “Ah, that must be our food.”
He set the book aside and strode into the shop. “Come into the kitchen, lads,” he called to the Cummings boys as they tromped in. “Wait, what’s all this?”
The boys were carrying pots he expected contained broth for Felicity and stew for him and Adam. The aroma was divine. Behind the boys came Mr. Cummings with a jug of lemonade and a basket filled with bread and apple tarts. Lord, even better.
“Mornin’ Dr. Carmichael. The missus sends her regards to ye and Miss Billings. Vicar said she took a very bad tumble. Ye let us know what she needs, and we’ll send it right over.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cummings.”
The boys looked up at him. “Can we pop our heads in?”
Angus nodded. “But don’t get too close. She hurts everywhere.”
“Good mornin’, Miss Billings,” the older boy said as Angus led them in. He cautioned them to remain beside the door.
“Harry, how nice to see you.” She cast him a shimmering smile. “Thank you for bringing over the food.”
“I helped, too,” the youngest, Sydney, said. “Caw, that’s a big lump on yer head. It’s bigger than my fist.”
She laughed. “Yes, quite unsightly.”
“Mum said to tell ye that we’ll bring over whatever ye want, and Da’s not to take any payment for it or she’ll box his ears. She says to thank ye for teaching me and Sydney to read and write. We’re going to be important men one day, she says. Because ye made us smart.”