The Doctor and the Libertine - Callie Hutton Page 0,58

accept him for Rayne’s sake.

Now if he could only get Rayne to accept him all would be well.

After a pleasant luncheon where Edwin picked up some more information that would help him get his house for women up and running quicker, he left the men and returned home.

It had been his intention to stop by the infirmary but decided to get some of his own paperwork done and then see if he could entice Rayne to join him for dinner at one of the fine restaurants in Bath. His holdings and investments were handled by his man of business, but it was his responsibility to go over everything Mr. Sanford sent him to make sure all was well.

That had been another thing he’d let go when he was carousing and wreaking havoc like a green youth. ‘Twas a good thing he hadn’t been robbed blind while he played the fool.

“Good afternoon, Marshall.” He greeted his man at the door and handed off his coat and hat.

“There was a note delivered for you, my lord. I placed it on your desk.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t understand why but suddenly he had a sense of unease. Marshall didn’t say a post was delivered, but a note, which meant it had been hand-delivered by a messenger.

Right smack in the middle of his desk sat a small square of white paper. He made his way slowly across the room, his heart thumping as he picked up the note and opened it. The familiar scent of Rayne’s bath soap drifted to his nose.

My dearest Edwin,

I am sorry, truly sorry, but I have decided to marry Mr. Faulkner-Jones. I agree it is not the best match for me, but with all Father has done for me over the years, I feel as though I can grant him this one thing that is so important to him. It is not as if I will have to suffer Mr. Faulkner-Jones’s presence very much. Life will continue pretty much the same for me.

Please don’t spend time thinking about what could have been because I truly want you to be happy and you are deserving of a fine woman who can bring you contentment.

With Kindness and Caring,

Rayne

He read the words three times, stunned, not wanting to absorb their meaning. Content? She wanted him to be content? He had no desire to be content. He wanted to be challenged, surprised, pushed, annoyed, and loved—yes loved—by Rayne. Not some faceless other woman who could never replace her.

She hadn’t mentioned in the note when the wedding was to take place. He had no idea how much time he had to change her mind, but until he found out, he could not contrive a plan.

He turned on his heel, strode to the entrance hall and retrieved his coat and hat, not waiting for Marshall to assist him. He would get to the bottom of this.

He was not giving up.

Walter opened the door and nodded. “Dr. Stevens is in the infirmary, my lord.”

“Thank you.” Edwin took his time walking down the corridor, not entirely sure what he was going to say. He’d been numb since he’d read her note.

Rayne was bent over a bed with an older man resting there. He saw a slight resemblance between the two and had an uneasy feeling this was her father. “Rayne?”

She turned and his breath left him. She looked terrible. Her eyes were red from crying, her face puffy. Dark circles under her eyes told him she hadn’t slept in a while. He wanted more than anything to enfold her in his arms and tell her whatever troubles she had he would take care of. Always and forever.

He held the note out that she’d sent him. “Sweetheart, we need to talk.”

She shook her head. “No. My decision has been made. I must marry Mr. Faulkner-Jones.” She turned back to her patient and Edwin moved forward.

He touched her shoulder and she slumped, her head hanging. “Please don’t do this.” She wiped her cheeks and took a deep breath. “Edwin, please just go and abide by my decision.”

“Is this your father?”

She nodded.

“What happened?”

She still refused to face him. “He’s had a heart attack. His regular doctor has been to see him, and it doesn’t look good.”

It all fell into place. Her father was very ill, possibly close to death and she had decided to do what he’d asked out of a sense of guilt. He had to tread very carefully here. She was obviously ready to snap.

“When was the last time