Surely, there are many who find themselves in Mr. Morrison’s position, not having any family to go home to and no job to be had.”
“You’re saying I should hire disabled soldiers?”
“I am. Moreover, I think you could help those that are injured even more severely than Mr. Morrison. Your house is quite large. The entire east wing is not even in use now. What if you turned it into a kind of hospital? Offering medical care for those men who have been harmed in battle. Perhaps you could even help them learn other, different skills from those they possess, allowing them to be able to seek work once they left Sheffield Park.”
Her idea excited him. He’d been seeking direction in his life. A way to fulfill his responsibilities and still feel useful. Taking in discharged soldiers and nursing them back to health—and even helping to train them for different occupations—would be a worthwhile pursuit.
“I could write my former commanding officer, General Shepherd,” he said. “Broach the subject with him. He receives the lists of casualties and those injured in battle.”
“Perhaps he could funnel certain cases your way,” Dalinda said. “Of course, you would need a medical doctor on staff. Perhaps two, along with a few women to help nurse the men back to health.”
Enthusiasm filled him. “This would be a worthwhile endeavor. I could help soldiers that would otherwise be forgotten. Put this large house to good use.” He smiled. “As always, you are full of excellent ideas, Dalinda.”
She rose and he did the same. They stood facing one another, not speaking. He could feel the air charged between them and wanted nothing better than to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
Instead, he played the gentleman. “I think I will go and write to General Shepherd at once so that the letter can be posted first thing tomorrow morning.”
Rhys thought he saw disappointment flicker in her eyes as she said, “That is a wise use of your time. I think I shall retire for the night. I will be up early tomorrow since there will be much to be done to finish preparations for tomorrow’s ball.” She paused and then said, “Goodnight, Rhys.”
Dalinda turned away and he watched her as she crossed the drawing room and exited. Hurt in letting her go mingled with the excitement of the prospect of helping others. Besides caring for the people of Sheffield Park, he finally felt as if some good might come from him being named a peer. He would concentrate on this part of his future—and not the brown-haired beauty who had stolen his heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Dalinda, along with Dez and Anna, joined Rhys in a receiving line. Normally, these weren’t a part of such an informal occasion but Rhys had insisted upon one, wanting to personally greet every attendee and speak to them by name. He had asked the three of them to join him since they acted in part as hosts for the country ball along with him.
She thought he looked splendid, his superfine coat a deep hunter green, causing his emerald eyes to stand out even more than usual. He had asked her what he should wear, noting he didn’t have any formal evening clothes yet, only a few items the local tailor had made up for him. She had told him black evening wear wouldn’t be expected at this type of event. Dez had provided Rhys with the name of his London tailor, saying if he were to take part in the Season that he would certainly need proper clothes for the various balls, routs, and concerts.
For her part, Dalinda had decided to skip the Season altogether, as she had shared with the others the previous evening. She did yearn for a husband and knew the best place to meet a new one would be in London among the ton. Her heart told her, though, that she wouldn’t want any part of it. She had found the only man she would ever consider marrying—and he didn’t seem to want her. Actually, Rhys did want her. She could see desire in his eyes anytime he spoke with her. There was no hiding the passion whenever he gazed upon her, which was rare these days. It was as if he pulled away, wanting to be rid of her as soon as possible. She still didn’t agree with him that he was unworthy of her. Oh, why did Gilford have to be a duke? If she had wed a