“Yes, really truly happy.” Imogen set her spoon upon her plate and although she turned in her brother’s direction she found no great comfort from doing so. “What has brought on your questions, Walter? You’re not considering searching for another physician to apply his dubious healing skills upon me. I could not have been clearer this afternoon. The next man you bring to examine me will feel the crack of my walking stick against their skull.”
“No. I see you’ve made up your mind to give up on getting better.”
“I am doing the only thing I can. I am blind. There is no getting around that fact. I could pitch about and moan about the unfairness of my life or accept it.” Imogen stretched for him and was rewarded by his larger hand covering hers. “Or is it you who is unhappy with the prospect of my living with you for the rest of my life?”
“Of course not,” he spluttered. “I only want what’s best for you.”
“And I you, which is why this might be the perfect time to discuss a solution.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Hard decisions were always best handled with direct speech and no delay. “I’ve been considering my situation since I first lost my vision. I am a burden on you, Walter, and I will be a nuisance to the lady you will marry one day.
”
“There is no one, that is to say, I have no plans to marry as yet.”
Walter would never have time to pursue a bride if he was always looking after her. He likely didn’t even realize the full extent of the burden her lack of sight placed on him. “But at some time you will wish to have a family of your own, a lady to love and spend time with, and well, to be blunt, I doubt any woman would want to share a house with me. They would come to regard me as a burden and I do not ever wish to be that to your happiness.”
“You’re not a burden.” He gasped. “Don’t ever think that.”
She patted Walter’s hand and drew back. “I should like you to write to Hawke and arrange for the purchase of a small house with my fortune. Once that is settled, I will ask your help in interviewing a companion to care for me in my new abode. With your aid, and perhaps the assistance of a few discerning friends, and the Perkins’ of course, I am sure I can be perfectly content.”
“You’re not leaving my house and my protection,” he growled out, startling her with the tone of his voice.
Regardless of his intentions, she would have her way in the end. “That decision is not yours to make. Would you rather I walk out that door under my own steam, with no one to guide me away from trouble or catastrophe? If you help, you may be easy with the situation. Of course, you would be welcome to come for a visit at any time.”
The chair Walter sat in gave a groan, as if he had rocked back on only two of the legs. “And have you planned where this little cottage of yours will be located?”
“I remember Fulking being very pleasant and quiet for an invalid.”
“No. That’s too far away.” His chair scraped and his steps were loud as he paced the room. “I won’t consider it and cease referring to yourself as an invalid. The whole notion is entirely unacceptable. You would never see your friends often enough.”
“Walter, please. You must understand how difficult it is to live half a life when everyone around you is in the thick of it.” She turned in her chair and hoped she faced him. “Miss Radley has begged me to watch her challenge some fellow in a swimming race. It is beyond ridiculous. I won’t be able to see her triumph or fail. I spend my days with only my imagination to keep me company. I cannot embroider, I cannot make house calls, I cannot write or do the things most ladies take for granted. The torture of inactivity, of uselessness, with endless hours staring into the darkness is intense. What else is there for me to do with myself?”
“You used to play the pianoforte very well.”
“When I was nine. I gave it up and wrote when I should have been practicing. I’m enough of a burden as I am without assaulting your ears by trying to learn again.” Imogen threw her napkin on the table when she heard the clink of glass against the decanter. “Were you going to pour your blind sister a glass as well or just get foxed on your own?”
“You heard that?”
“Blind not stupid.” Imogen sighed and stood, her appetite gone. “I hear far too much and not all of it good. Every whisper and snicker is mine to cherish in the dark hours of my life. Excuse me. I rather wish you’d left me to my own company tonight.”
She fumbled for her walking stick and left the room with her head high and as much dignity as she could muster. She was a burden to her brother’s life but he just would not say so. In time, he’d see that she was right to leave.
CHAPTER FIVE
They often said that maintaining a polite mask of indifference in difficult circumstances was a sign of a true gentleman. Whoever said so was mad. Peter’s ability to maintain that mask was sorely tested after the shocking news he’d heard today about Imogen George. Discovering his former fiancée was in so terrible a situation had threatened his calm. Peter schooled his features to blankness as he stepped into the drawing room of Valentine Merton’s modest townhouse and looked about at the assembled guests, even while his heart ached with sadness.
The ladies he’d grown up beside curtsied to him as if he were someone other than himself. Luckily, his male friends had seen sense and left off ridiculous excess in their greetings. They treated him as he wanted to be. A part of a life he’d been absent from at the worst possible time. He scanned the room for Imogen but could not see her or her brother yet. There was one lady across the room he didn’t recognize at first but her slender form tugged his memory until her identity came to him. The vicar’s daughter. Another chatterbox if he recalled correctly. Hell, he hoped he was spared her company at dinner.
The first of his friend’s family to reach him was Miss Melanie Merton, an often shrill and unforgiving woman. Today her smiles were friendly, and not for one moment did he believe them to be anything but calculated to curry favor. In the past, Melanie had been far too open in her dislike for him and the fact that he was not rich. He was now, and that likely accounted for her pleased smile at seeing him.
“So good of you to come and grace our home with your presence, Sir Peter,” she gushed. Her eyelashes fluttered as she continued smiling at him and he almost laughed at her transparent reversal of attitude. Did she think he wouldn’t remember her true nature? He wasn’t forgetful in the least and he did not easily forgive the slights she’d directed toward his sister before Abigail’s marriage.
“Miss Merton. A pleasure to see you again,” he told her, although he could have gone many days without. He glanced past her as Valentine Merton gestured Peter to come toward him. “Excuse me.”
He stepped around her but was stopped again by the presence of Miss Teresa Long, his host’s sweeter-natured cousin, blocking his path. He smiled sincerely. “You’re looking very well, Miss Long. So good to see you again.”
Peter had always made a point of praising Miss Long and just because he was a baronet he had no reason to cease their harmless flirtation. Her cousin Melanie Merton was far too happy to offer all too many subtle snubs and their infrequent talks always seemed to lift Miss Long’s spirits.
Miss Long smiled warmly, her posture changing to one with greater confidence. “Thank you, sir. I must say, you look rather dashing tonight as well.”