Siren

Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

 

Irritably James yanked off the sling holding his right arm immobile and dropped it right into the street. He couldn’t do a damn thing with it on. Slowly he flexed the injured shoulder, pleased to find everything in working order. It was still sore, but tolerable. Satisfied, he jogged up the steps of the large London army hospital.

It had taken weeks to track down the location of Nick Collins after they’d been separated in the field hospital. Initially he’d been told Nick was dead, and he’d been determined to find his remains and return them home to his wife. It was the least James could do. Later he’d received conflicting reports—some confirming death, others stating that Nick had lived and been transported with other wounded to London. James had quickly pursued every possible lead, ignoring his own doctor’s orders for bed rest.

The hospitals interior was dark, overcrowded, and suffocating. James quickly found an orderly and inquired after Nick’s location.

The harried young man furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Forgive me, Colonel, that name is not familiar to me.”

Frustrated, James asked another orderly, and then another, before a volunteer—an elderly woman with crisp blue eyes—recognized the description and led James up two flights of stairs, down a narrow, foul smelling hallway, to a closed door. James quickly thanked the woman and knocked softly on the door. Without waiting for an answer, he tried the knob and opened the door a few inches.

“Collins?” he inquired softly, peering inside. The room was so tiny it may as well have been a closet, but to his immense relief Nick reclined on a narrow cot along the far wall. Sarah at his side.

“Witherspoon!” Shock registered in Nick’s drawn expression as he struggled to a sit on the edge of the narrow cot. “My god, man. They told me you were dead!”

Grinning from ear to ear, James crossed the room in two strides, clasping his friend’s hand warmly. “And I was told the same about you.” He turned to Sarah and winked. “I owe my life to your husband, my dear. I am forever in his debt… and yours.”

Sarah sat primly in her chair regarding him with a cool, wary eyes. “Both your names appeared on the casualty roster,” she said. “Phoebe and I were devastated.”

Phoebe. A pang of regret hit his chest so hard it nearly knocked the breath from him. Her face swept through his mind, evocative and lovely. She’d haunted his dreams every night for weeks. “I take it Lady Phoebe told you of our, er… friendship?”

“Everything.”

Everything? Had Phoebe truly related all or did Sarah simply believe she knew everything? James simply nodded, a bit uncomfortable if Sarah was in fact aware of how he’d used Phoebe so ill.

“Will you be going back for her?” Sarah asked, voice betraying a slight hint of hope.

“Yes,” James replied without hesitation. He’d been disappointed to find Phoebe wasn’t in London for the season. He’d hoped to reconnect with her in Town while searching for Collins and kill two birds with one stone. Initially he’d feared she was engaged, but after a few inquiries he’d learned she hadn’t been to Town at all. “I was a fool to ever have walked away from her. I began writing her so many letters, at least a dozen, but after my behavior any apology should be given in person.”

Nick grinned. “I suggest you hurry, Colonel. As you can see I am mending and in good hands here.” He reached for his wife’s hand and squeezed it. Their eyes locked and they shared one of the private looks, so filled with love and passion that James secretly envied them. Would he ever experience such with Phoebe?

Uncomfortable, James shuffled back to the door. “If you need anything, anything at all, just send word to my mother’s estate in Corsair.”

“Colonel,” Sarah rose, concern lining her lovely face. “Lady Phoebe isn’t in Corsair.”

“Not in Corsair? Is she in London then? I’d originally hoped to find her here for the season.” Such would be wonderful. He may be reunited with Phoebe today.

Sarah’s frowned, shifting her attention to her husband. “Didn’t you tell him?”

Confusion dampened James’s spirits. “Tell me what?”

Nick’s expression grew serious. “Didn’t you read Sarah’s letter?”

Letter? Oh, yes! The letter… He shrugged. “I have no idea what became of Sarah’s letter. Most likely it was lost among the debris of bloody uniforms in the medical tents. I had forgotten about it completely.” His gaze shifted between Nick and Sarah. “Please enlighten me now? Should I be concerned?”

Nick swept an arm between his wife and James. “You tell him, Sarah.”

Sarah stepped forward a bit more, dark eyes pools of mystery. “Colonel, Phoebe is not in London or at the Corsair estate. Her brother had her sent to the country due to failing health.”

“Failing health?” His blood chilled with the prospect. “What’s happened? Will she recover?”

Red bloomed in Sarah’s cheeks as she averted her gaze. “You see, Colonel, shortly after you left, Phoebe found herself with child.”

“What?” James stared blankly at Sarah. The words refusing to register.

Nick scoffed impatiently. “She’s pregnant, Witherspoon. It’s what I tried to tell you the day of the battle.”

Cold panic washed through James as his mind spun nauseatingly. Suddenly everything made sense. Nick’s insistence that he read Sarah’s letter… Nick’s self-sacrifice because he believed James needed to make it home. Heaven save him, the thought of a child—his child—scared the living hell out of him. James staggered. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he mumbled. What had he been thinking last spring? He knew to take precautions, but had gotten totally swept away in his love for Phoebe.

Then he’d panicked.

Panicked and run.

“Where is Phoebe?” he asked, voice barely above a rasp.