“How very sad,” Eleanor murmured.
“Indeed. What do you know of consumption, my lady?”
“It is a wasting illness of the lungs, is it not?”
“Yes, a disease that causes the slow death of lung tissue. Consumption is quite common in England and often fatal, but the cause is not known and no cure has been found as yet… although certain conditions improve the odds of surviving, including a warm, dry climate. That is why Damon chose the Mediterranean for his sanatorium.”
“Sanatorium, Mr. Geary?”
“Yes, for the treatment of consumptives.” At her inquisitive look, he smiled faintly. “I suppose I should explain how my relationship to Damon began. The thing is, my lady, I owe my entire career to him. I grew up in Harwich, near the Wrexham family seat in Suffolk. I was but a youth myself, two years older than Damon, but I had always shown a keen interest in the medical profession and was apprenticing with a local doctor when Joshua took ill. When it became clear there was no longer any hope for his recovery, I cared for Joshua on his deathbed.”
“That must have been difficult for his family as well as yourself,” Eleanor observed quietly and rather inadequately.
Geary nodded. “It was, my lady. To see such a handsome, vital boy wasting away while suffering great pain… And then as ill fortune would have it, Damon's parents-Viscount and Lady Wrexham- perished barely a few months later, when their ship sank during a storm while crossing the Irish Sea. They intended to pay a visit to some of her family there, but Damon refused to accompany them. Arguably, he is only alive due to the whims of Fate.”
Eleanor felt her heart wrench at that disclosure. She could only imagine how agonizing it must have been for Damon to lose first his brother and then his parents so tragically. How devastated he must have felt. How starkly lonely. As an orphan, he would have had no one to grieve with, no one to share his anguish…
The physician sighed in resignation before continuing. “In any event, after Damon inherited the title and fortune, in gratitude for my services to his brother, he provided the funds for me to attend university and to further my studies with the finest physicians in England. If not for him, I would likely be a country doctor instead of proprietor of my own hospital in London, which he also helped to finance.”
Recalling what she had heard of Mr. Geary's remarkable achievements in the field of medicine, Eleanor perceived the significance of his admission: The world would have been deprived of a brilliant physician had not Damon intervened in his future.
“Naturally,” Geary added, “you can see why I would go to any lengths for Damon. Thus, three years ago, when he came to me with the notion of advancing the quest for a remedy for consumption, I wrote to several renowned physicians on the Continent to enlist their aid. And with their patronage and involvement, Damon built an institution for the treatment of consumptives on the southern coast of Italy. It was an ambitious undertaking-their goals were to save as many lives as possible while attempting to discover a cure. And failing that, to relieve the suffering of the dying and to promote the swift recuperation of convalescents.”
Eleanor gazed at Geary in surprise and not a little awe. “And did they succeed in their aims?” she asked.
“In many ways, yes. For the past year they have counted an impressive number of survivors. I myself sent more than a dozen of my patients there-at Damon's expense, I should say-and nine of them recovered fully.”
She didn't doubt Damon's generosity in the least. She only wondered why he'd kept it hidden from her. During their betrothal he had never mentioned a single word to her about his desire to build a sanatorium, or about his late brother's death, either.
“It seems a disparity,” Eleanor said finally, “that Damon has acted the philanthropist for so long, given his reputation as a rogue with a taste for wild living.”
Geary smiled wryly. “It does strain the imagination, but I assure you, every word I told you is true.” He hesitated for a moment. “I know that you and he have a past, Lady Eleanor, so I understand why you might be disinclined to think well of Damon, but I think perhaps you may have misjudged him-”
Geary's face suddenly turned ruddier with embarrassment. “Forgive me, that was impertinent to question your feelings for him. I should not have said such a thing. Truly, I meant no offense.”
“I am not offended, Mr. Geary,” Eleanor replied with rather automatic politeness since her mind was deep in reflections. “I think perhaps you are correct. I may have indeed misjudged him.”
“Then you will not be averse to my telling him about this latest threat to Prince Lazzara?”
“No, I suppose there is no reason to keep this episode from him.”
“Then I will inform him later, after the ball. Ah, there he is now. Perhaps you will wish to tell him yourself.”
Eleanor was taken aback to see Damon moving toward them through the crowded ballroom.
After summoning a footman to dispose of both punch cups, Mr. Geary rose and bowed to her. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I will return to my gaggle of elderly ladies and resume my attempt to garner them as patrons of my hospital.”
Nodding absently, Eleanor was only vaguely aware when the physician departed, since her entire attention was fixed on Damon as he approached. When eventually he reached her, she stared up at him in be- musement.
“Never tell me that I have surprised you, love,” he remarked in a dry tone.
“You have indeed,” she responded. “I presumed you had left the ball by now.”
“I could not leave just yet. Geary accompanied me here in my carriage, and I must convey him home.”
When Eleanor glanced down, she saw that Damon was wearing sturdy shoes of plain brown leather- a sore contrast to his elegant, expensive evening clothes.
“I purchased these from a Haviland footman,” he explained about his new footwear. “They pinch a trifle, but beggars cannot be choosers.” His expression was mild and amused rather than angry as she'd half expected.
“Don't you intend to upbraid me for the trick I played on you?” Eleanor asked.
“No.” Damon settled beside her in the vacant chair. “In truth, I decided that you might have been justified in your reprisal. I should not have interfered in your attempts to romance your prince, much as I disliked seeing you kissing him.”
His comment surprised Eleanor even more than the revelations about Damon's philanthropy, and she eyed him with suspicion. It was not like him to surrender so easily. But perhaps she didn't know him nearly as well as she had thought…
“Mr. Geary told me how you occupied your time in Italy these past two years.”
Damon seemed to go very still, as if all his muscles had tensed. “And what did he say?”
“That you have been championing the plight of consumptives because of how your brother died.”
His dark eyes held an emotion that was impossible for her to read. Without answering, Damon shifted his gaze to look out over the crowded ballroom.
“Why did you never tell me?” Eleanor prompted when he was silent.
He shrugged. “What was there to tell?”
She studied his profile measuringly. “I might have concluded you were not the care-for-nothing rogue you led me to believe.”
Damon's expression remained impassive, as if a mask had suddenly dropped over his face. And his drawl, when it came, sounded somewhat cool. “Does it matter what you think of me since we are no longer betrothed and you turned down my recent offer of matrimony?”
“I suppose not. But your compassion is extremely admirable.”
His mouth twisted. “My efforts had little to do with compassion. I was acting out of anger.”
“Why anger?”
“Better that than wallowing in maudlin sorrow. Building a sanatorium was my way of trying to control fate in some small measure.”
“You could not save your brother so you became determined to save others.”
“You might say that.”
Eleanor fell silent, wondering if Damon had truly come to terms with his sorrow. She very much doubted it. She bit her lower lip, envisioning the grief he must have felt, the sheer desolation of losing his brother, then his parents. He would have been alone in the world. At least she'd had her brother Marcus to love and comfort her and ease her loneliness over the years.
“I am sorry I stole your shoes,” she said softly. “I hid them in the music room, behind the curtains of the first
