Page 73 of West Wind

“You recognize her?” Shelley retook his seat by the bed.

Dr. Smith turned back as he half-closed the door, as if someone might be eavesdropping. “I saw Miss St. Clair perform here in San Francisco three years ago,” he whispered. “Magnificent. You don’t forget a face like that.”

As the doctor closed the door behind him, Shelley let his head fall back and slumped in the chair, his legs extended parallel to the bed. The doctor hadn’t promised that Annie would recover but had seemed optimistic, so he was able to close his eyes.

At one point in the night, Annie called his name. He took her hand in his. She grasped it tightly, using all the strength she could muster. “Shelley,” she gasped. “I don’t love you, I promise.” Her words were tinged with desperation.

He turned to her. “I know.”

“I mean it.” She squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. “I don’t love you. Don’t leave me.”

He frowned, puzzled by her words but too tired to give them much thought. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She relaxed after that assurance and fell into a deep sleep, her hand still resting in his. He was too exhausted to spend much time thinking about her odd statement, but it rang in his head. I don’t love you. Don’t leave me. He lifted her hand and kissed it. She didn’t seem as hot as before. Maybe she would recover after all.

He laid her hand gently on the bed, continued to cradle it as if it were the most fragile porcelain, and slept.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Shelley opened his eyes to a room filled with morning light and said, “Jesus, you look old.”

Bart stood at the end of the bed, studying the scene before him with a half smile. “Me?” Anyone with eyes would see that this dark-haired, blue-eyed man was his brother. There was a strong family resemblance, despite their different coloring. “You look like shit, Trav. At least I’ve shaved and had a bath this week.”

Shelley ignored his brother’s observations, as best he could, and gave Annie his attention. She remained pale but was not so hot. She slept peacefully, which was a relief he felt to his bones. He released her hand slowly, allowing it to rest on top of the covers, before he stood and faced his brother.

He’d once towered over his younger brother, but now Bart was the same height. In spite of the fact that he was a city boy his shoulders were just as wide.

Bart moved in to give him a hearty hug. “Five years is too long, Trav. Why the hell don’t you visit, or at the very least write so I’ll know you’re still alive? Sorry,” he added casually in answer to a glare. “At least when you do come home you do so in style. With a fabulous, wanted opera singer in tow.”

He groaned. “You recognized her, too?”

Bart nodded slightly. “Yes. I saw her a few years ago. Who else knows she’s here?”

“The doctor. You haven’t mentioned…”

“I’ve told no one. Rose and Andrew have been instructed to keep quiet, and the other servants have been given an unexpected paid vacation. You certainly don’t have to worry about John.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Smith.” Bart grinned again. “I wasn’t kidding. You really do look like shit. Let me have Andrew prepare a bath for you. You’ve got plenty of clothes here, out of style though they may be. A good meal, a shave…”

“Not now.” He resumed his seat. “Maybe later.”

Bart cocked his head; his eyebrows knit together. “How on earth did you manage to hook up with Annabelle St. Clair?”

“Long story.” He placed his hand on her forehead. She was still warm, but not terribly hot as she’d been the night before.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to tell me⁠—”

“No,” he said abruptly.

Annie rolled over and reached for his hand. He took it tenderly, weaving his fingers through hers.

Bart made a low humming noise, amusement mixed with wonder. “I’ll bet it’s a good one.”

“Mind your own business,” Shelley said gruffly. He had to admit, it was nice to be in the same room with his brother even if only for a short time. The reason he’d left San Francisco had nothing to do with Bart, the only family he had left. Some things were just too hard to face. Too hard to remember.

“Dorothea was widowed last year,” Bart said without warning.