I rise to my feet.
With a nod to her mother, I excuse myself and step into the corridor, making my way to meet my team.
Pediatric surgery always has a way of digging into emotions you thought were buried beneath layers of professionalism. These cases stay with you. The tiny bears clutched in tiny hands. The trembling lips, the wide eyes.
The ache that lingers long after the surgical gloves come off.
Today, that particular ache feels more pronounced. It’s yet another quiet reminder of the things I’ve put on hold.
Daisy turned me down. It’s for the best.
Her contempt for me couldn’t be clearer.
Asking her to dinner was a bad choice. Daisy made her position clear. And in doing so, she reminded me just how foolish I’d been to even try.
She’s in her twenties, living life to the fullest. To her, I’m just another stuffy Cavendish—a boring, entitled older man who reminds her far too much of my brother’s less admirable qualities.
And I’m not a man who repeats his mistakes.
“You’re still here, Edward?” Lucia’s voice drifts down the corridor as she approaches.
The blue of her scrubs catches my eye—she might be the only person capable of looking elegant in hospital attire.
“I thought you were supposed to clock off an hour ago,” she says, stopping beside me.
“I was,” I reply, glancing toward the doorway where Ella stirs. Her mother sits close, still clutching Mr. Tickles—the bedraggled rabbit now sporting a sparkly sticker over his missing eye and a gauze patch to match Ella’s own.
“I wanted to monitor her initial recovery,” I say. “She’s just coming round.”
Lucia follows my gaze. “That’s what the nurses and surgical residents are here for. You don’t need to shoulder every burden yourself.” She pauses, studying me. “You’re remarkable with children. I hope you’re aware of that. You should hear how the staff talk about you.”
“I just do what needs to be done.” I clear my throat, glancing away as I roll the tension from my neck. “Thank you for coming to the funeral. I wasn’t expecting it, but it meant a great deal.”
“Of course,” she says simply. She checks her watch. “I don’t suppose you’d want to grab dinner? After today, I can’t face cooking.”
I pause. “I’d like to,” I say, and I mean it. “But I’ve already made plans with Liam and Patrick tonight. Next week?”
She nods, smiling easily. “Next week, then.”
“Excellent,” I reply.
Lucia is everything I should want—intelligent, accomplished, stunning. A fellow surgeon who understands the demands of our profession.
No chaos. No complications.
No turning my world upside down with yoga pants and ill-advised church incidents.
CHAPTER 23
Daisy
I burst through thedoors of the Cavendish estate drawing room, breathless and disheveled. Inside, Sophia and the dressmaker are fussing over Imogen and Bernice, who are mid-twirl in their bridesmaid dresses.
“Sorry!” I gasp, clinging to the doorframe like I’ve just completed a triathlon.
Four sets of eyes whip my way, each set radiating a different flavor of judgment.
“Train trouble!” I blurt, still panting. “Apparently, aleaftouched the track, and the entire British rail system has collapsed. You know how it is.”
