She tried not to let her uneasiness show. She had known of his interest, of course. She wasn't certain he would actually make an official offer. "Jonathan is a very fine man," she said carefully.

"Yes, he is. He is kind and generous and very well respected. I think you should accept him, Lee."

The tea cup rattled. She steadied it with her hand. "I don't love him, Father."

"I know you don't-not now, but in time perhaps you could come to love him." He set his untouched cup and saucer down on the table in front of him. "I loved your mother very much. I didn't believe I would ever get over losing her and in some ways I never did. But I found great comfort in Aaron's mother, Sarah. I never told you that. In my own way, I came to love her."

Lee mulled that over. Was it possible? Could love grow out of mutual caring and respect? Over the years, Charles had fallen deeply in love with Elizabeth. They were happy. Unbelievably so. In her life at Parklands, Lee would have chosen Jon as her protector. Why not a husband instead?

"Jon wants children, Lee. I know how much you would love to have a family of your own."

It was said that when one door closed another opened. Perhaps this, at last, was a door to the life she had finally discovered she wanted. Certainly she could be happier with Jon than she had been in the world of the demimonde, where she had never fit in.

"Jon enjoys racing," the marquess went on. "Your horses will have the very best of care."

She set her cup and saucer down next to his. "Do you really believe marrying Lord Nash is the right thing to do?"

The marquess reached out and captured her hand. "I have done all I can to protect you. Jon is aware of your former... relationship... with Captain Tanner and yet he believes, in time, you will come to care for him. As the wife of a viscount and respected member of the ton, your future would be completely secure."

His hold gently tightened around her fingers. "Shall I give him my approval?"

She thought of Caleb, closed her eyes and forced his image away. "Tell him if he proposes marriage... if he is certain that is what he wants, I shall be honored to accept."

Lee could scarcely believe it. In only a few short months, her life had completely changed. She was betrothed to a well-respected member of the aristocracy and soon would be wed.

It was less than three weeks till the wedding when she made a trip to London for the final fitting of her trousseau. Though she missed Jeannie, her maid was happier at Parklands where she was more readily accepted. Beatrice was her lady's maid now, the two of them staying at her father's town house. She had buried thoughts of Caleb deep in her heart, never to be resurrected, and so she was surprised when, standing at the top of the stairs, she saw his brother, Lucas, striding into the entry.

The moment she realized who it was, a wave of fear hit her and the breath froze in her lungs. She flew down the stairs, her pulse hammering so madly she was afraid she might swoon. "Do not say he is dead!"

Lucas shook his head and relief rushed over her, so strong her legs went weak. Luc took her arm and led her into the nearest drawing room, urged her down onto the sofa.

"Caleb is alive, Lee, but I'm afraid he's been very gravely injured. There was some sort of mix-up and he was believed to be someone else. Word only reached us a few days ago."

Her hands were shaking. She clasped them together in her lap. "Where... where is he?"

"The hospital at Portsmouth."

She started to get up. She had to go upstairs, change into something for the journey.

Luc caught her arm. "My brother is in some sort of a coma, Lee. He has sustained a serious head injury. On top of that, he took a musket ball in the chest. He's been out of his mind with fever off and on for days. The hospital is a place of horrors, but they are afraid to move him. I came because in his lucid moments, Caleb calls your name."

Her eyes burned with tears.

"I heard you were here," Luc continued. "I thought that perhaps-"

"It won't take me a moment to change and pack a few things for the trip. If you would see me to Portsmouth, Lord Halford, I would be forever in your debt."

He gave her a weary smile. "I hoped you would say that." He looked tired. Faint smudges darkened the skin beneath his blue eyes and beard-stubble roughened his usually clean-shaven cheeks. "I probably shouldn't have come here, but if you are willing to suffer the horrors of that place and there is any chance you can help my brother, I can only say that I am grateful."

She simply nodded. Caleb was injured, perhaps even dying. Her throat ached and a film of tears blurred her vision. Turning away from Luc, she hurried out of the drawing room and raced up the stairs shouting for Beatrice.

In minutes, she had changed into traveling clothes, secured her bonnet strings beneath her chin, told Beatrice where she was going and asked her not to worry her father unless she had to. Then she hurried back down the stairs, tapestry satchel in hand. Luc took the bag from her trembling fingers and together they walked out the door.

Luc's carriage was waiting. He was the Viscount Halford and his crest blazed in gold on the door. He helped her inside and she settled against the carriage seat. They wouldn't reach Portsmouth before tomorrow.

She thought of Caleb and prayed he would still be alive when she got there.

The military hospital at Portsmouth overflowed with wounded men. The fighting at Talavera had been fierce, the casualties in the thousands. Some of the soldiers remained in hospital camps in Spain. Others, like Caleb, had been shipped home to England.

As Luc settled a steadying hand at Lee's waist and led her into the three-story brick building, she tried to prepare herself. But nothing could have prepared her for the moans of the wounded and dying men, the terrible stench of blood and death that hung in the fetid air.

"Are you all right?" Luc asked worriedly.

She knew her face was pale and her hands were shaking. Her stomach rolled with nausea and she prayed she wouldn't embarrass herself. "I'm fine," she lied. "This just takes a bit of getting used to is all."

Luc's face looked hard. "A good bit, I would say. I don't believe anyone ever gets used to a place like this." He took her arm, lending her some of his strength, and they walked down row after row of sick and wounded men.

Besides the bloodstained bandages and the odor of putrid flesh, she saw men with severed limbs and a number who had been badly burned.

"There was a grass fire after the battle. A lot of the wounded were killed in the fire or very badly burned."

She stopped, looked up at him. "Caleb?"

He shook his head. "The chest wound I mentioned and a saber gash in the leg. I'm afraid the leg is infected." Lucas caught her shoulders. "They may have to take it, Lee."

Her heart nearly broke. "Oh, dear God. Caleb would hate that more than anything. He's a cavalry officer. He needs to be able to ride." And she wouldn't let them take his leg unless there was no other choice.

Unfortunately, when she reached his bedside and saw how ghostly pale he was, saw the blood leaking through the bandages on his chest and leg, she thought removing the limb might be his only hope.

Lee knelt beside him, reached out and took his hand. It felt even colder than her own. The other, she saw, was bandaged.

"He escaped the fire himself," Luc gently explained. "He was trying to help some of the others."

"Caleb? Can you hear me? It's Lee." But Caleb said nothing. His eyes were closed, his cheeks gaunt, his complexion as pale as the sheet.

"He hasn't spoken in days," a tall blond man said from the opposite side of the bed. "I'm Christian, one of Caleb's brothers." The married one, she thought. "Our brother, Ethan, is out of the country. This is my father, Lord Selhurst."

The earl was mostly silver-haired, his shoulders slightly bent, and worry for his son was written in the lines of his face. "I'm sorry Lucas troubled you to come," he said a little stiffly. "I told him he shouldn't. This is no place for a woman."

She straightened a little. "Caleb asked for me. That is why I came. I won't leave him until he is recovered."

The marquess said nothing more but his gaze faintly sharpened.

"There seems to be a shortage of surgeons," she said, glancing around the room, thinking what an understatement that was. "Over the years, I have tended a number of injured horses." Actually, Jacob and Arlie had done most of the work, but at least she had been there. "Since there is no one else, I should like to take a look at the wounds myself."

"That is absurd," Lord Selhurst said. "I've sent for the best physician in London. Once he arrives, my son will be in the very best possible hands."

"That is good to hear, my lord. But until your physician gets here, I intend to do what I can."

"I'll help you remove the bandages," Luc said gently. "Father, why don't you and Chris get a breath of fresh air and something to eat? You've been here the past two days. Let Lee and me take over for a while."

The earl seemed unwilling to leave, but Christian Tanner gently took his father's arm and the two men left the building. Luc helped her unwrap the wound in Caleb's chest and the one in his thigh, then he stepped away.

Her heart squeezed. She was scarcely a physician. All she could really tell was that the injuries were severe. If Caleb were a horse, she would have at least some idea what to do, but he wasn't a horse, he was a man.

Then again, he had always been as stubborn as a mule.

"What do you think?" Luc asked.

Lee worried her bottom lip. "How long before the doctor arrives?"

"He was out of town when we sent for him. He is probably on his way by now, but there is no way to know for sure."

"We can't just sit here. Not when we don't know how long it might be until the physician gets here." She reached down, touched Caleb's pale face, and silently willed him to hang on. She turned to Luc, thinking of the mare several months back who had cut herself badly on a downed rock fence and trying to remember exactly what Jacob had done.

She gazed down at Caleb and took a steadying breath. "There are things I'm going to need. The herbs, you will find at the apothecary shop. The rest you will find in the nearest stable."

Luc flashed her a look of disbelief.

"Bring me pen and ink and I'll make you a list," she went on, as if she didn't see the doubt etched into his face.

Then very slowly he smiled. It was the first real smile she had seen since his arrival at the door of her father's town house. "I'll get the herbs. And there are stables right here with any number of horse supplies. You shall have the items you need as quickly as I can collect them."

True to his word, he returned not long after with milkweed and rue, boneset and dogwood, horse liniment, and fresh bandages. Lee took them gratefully and set to work, saying a silent prayer she could remember exactly what to do.

25.

It was an endless night and most of the following day before the earl's physician finally arrived. In the meantime, Lee cleaned the wounds as best she could, then made salves and poultices, remedies old Arlie and Jacob Boswell had taught her, and applied them to Caleb's wounds. Still, during the night, his fever returned and he began to hallucinate.

Over and over he relived the terrible battle, and the pain in his voice made her ache for him. It was just before dawn that he whispered her name and when she heard it, her heart nearly shattered.

"I'm here, Caleb." She stroked his cheek with a hand that trembled and tears clogged her throat. "I'm right here, my love." But he said no more and by morning, she was exhausted.

She hadn't eaten since her arrival. Her stomach rebelled at the mere thought of food and her clothes were wrinkled and bloodstained and smelled of the same stench that hung like a shroud over the endless rows of hospital beds.

Lee was bathing Caleb's face, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair when she spotted the Earl of Selhurst striding toward them between the rows of beds. The man at his side, a thin man with a light-brown mustache, she presumed to be the physician the earl had summoned from London.

"Get out of my way, young woman." The doctor, a man Luc said was named Criffle, walked up to Caleb's bedside. "Let us see how much harm you have done."

Her hopeful smile faded. "I did what I could. I didn't believe it was in Caleb's best interest to wait."

The doctor harrumphed. Stripping away the dressings and poultices, he surveyed the wound in Caleb's chest, then turned his attention to the infection ravaging the gash in his thigh. He was frowning and Lee's heart began to thud with fear.

What if she had made matters worse? Dear God, what if she had done something that would kill him!

For the next half hour, Dr. Criffle worked over Caleb's still figure, cleaning and redressing the wounds. All the while, she stood fearfully between Lucas and Christian, praying Caleb would be all right.

Finally the doctor turned. "Young lady-I owe you an apology. You did an excellent job, considering what little you had to work with. I have no idea what exactly you used on Captain Tanner, but it seems to have helped the swelling in his chest and leg and some of the redness is beginning to fade. I do not believe putrefaction has set in as I had expected and whatever you used seems to have helped."

Relief made her weak and she felt Luc's hand close over her fingers in a grateful, reassuring squeeze.

"The problem now, I'm afraid, is the head injury he has sustained. For that there is nothing I can do. If he cares for you as his brother suggests, perhaps your presence here will make a difference."

She nodded, and prayed that it would.

It was a strange world Caleb lived in. At times the battle still raged inside his head. He remembered the cannon fire, remembered men falling beneath a barrage of gunfire and grapeshot, remembered the big French cavalry officer he had clashed with, the saber cut that had nearly unhorsed him. He remembered the searing pain of the musket ball that had slammed into his chest, the flames racing over the grass.

Most of the time, he lived in a world of darkness, an odd nothingness that engulfed him, made his body feel weightless, the days and hours seem to have no end.

But there were those few rare moments when he no longer drifted, when he thought he recognized voices. His father. His brothers. Lee.

It couldn't be, he told himself, but still he could hear her, gently calling his name. He wanted to answer, but he knew if he opened his eyes, she wouldn't be there. She was just an illusion and once he knew that for sure, then the pain of losing her would return and it was nearly as bad as the terrible ache in his chest.

"Caleb? Caleb, can you hear me?" She was there again, drifting through his mind. Peace settled over him and in his mind he smiled. He didn't try to awaken. Instead, he would far rather dream.

"I think we should take him home to Selhurst," the earl said.

"Dr. Criffle believes it's still too risky," Luc argued. "He says Caleb should remain here until he is more fully recovered."

But Lee wondered if the earl might not be right. Caleb's wounds were healing. At Selhurst, he would receive the care and attention he needed. He hadn't yet spoken, but each day he grew stronger. His body was recovering very well. It was his mind that held him hostage.

"Let's give him another few days," Luc argued, and she thought that it was because she was there and wouldn't be with him at Selhurst. "Perhaps by then he will be lucid."

As she watched him sleep, she wondered what Caleb was thinking, wondered if he heard her when she spoke to him during the night. Sometimes she believed he did, when his mouth twitched at the corners and it seemed as if at any moment he would smile.

She wanted to shake him then, to shout at him and demand he open his eyes. And so that afternoon, while the others had gone off for something to eat and she had returned to his bedside, while she sat there speaking his name again and again, talking to him about Grand Coeur and Noir, telling him racing stories, her frustration mounted. She reminded him of the day they had raced and he had pretended to lose, told him he owed her a rematch, and bet him another week of mucking out stalls, and to her complete frustration, his lips faintly curved.

"You heard me! I know you did! That's it, Caleb Tanner! You open your eyes this instant! I won't put up with your nonsense a moment more!"

To her surprise and utter amazement, he did exactly that. For an instant, they simply sat there staring at each other.

"You're... really... here," Caleb finally said, the words so scratchy she could barely hear them.

"Caleb!" She hugged him so hard he groaned. "I'm sorry. Oh, God, I didn't mean to hurt you. Say something. Anything. Just so I know you're all right."

"Tired..." he said, but he smiled at her as his eyes drifted closed, and she started to cry.

Lucas found her that way, clinging to Caleb's hand, tears running down her cheeks. "He spoke to me, Luc. He knew who I was."

Relief eased the worry in Luc's handsome face. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Thank you. For coming here. For taking care of Caleb. For everything."

She nodded. She had done what she could and Caleb would recover.