The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

wrote them. Her drawings would never be accepted by a publication, but they did have an artistic flair which made her chuckle.

At noon Edward brought in lunch, and at two o’clock he announced Colonel Henly.

Ringlets had fallen across her forehead during her long hours bent over the table writing. She tucked them out of the way behind her ears, but the stubborn locks were too short and too curly to stay put without hair clips.

“Good afternoon, Miss Mallory.” Henly strode toward her with a slight hitch in his stride, his steel scabbard clinking with each step. His jaw didn’t have the tension of the previous day, and his eyes seemed clearer. She tried once again to tuck the springy wisps out of the way before giving up.

“Good afternoon, Colonel.”

His glance drifted from her face to the drawings of abdominal organs spread out on the table. He frowned, his mouth twitching in disbelief.

“I’m writing an article I hope to see published in The Lancet, and I’ve written enough for today. Will you take me for a walk? I need exercise and fresh air.”

With his eyes still on the papers he said, “It’s chilly. Colder than yesterday.”

“I know, but I need fresh air, if only for a brief stroll.” She gathered the papers, tapped the edges on the table, and then stacked them neatly.

A few minutes later they waited on the corner of H Street and Jackson Place. A wind blew through the bare trees, making them whisper and creak. What were they saying? Were they warning her? If so, they didn’t need to go to all that trouble. Fiddling with history could cause all sorts of complications, none of them pleasant. She looped her hand around the colonel’s elbow as she stepped off the curb, and they crossed the street heading toward the General Andrew Jackson equestrian statue.

When they reached the opposite corner she asked, “Where’s the closest hospital?”

He glanced around for a moment, as if getting his bearings. “The K Street Barracks Post Hospital, on K and Seventeenth Streets. Why?”

“Because I need to do something useful. I want to work in a hospital.” They began walking again. “The K Street hospital is only two blocks away? If I could volunteer there it would be easy for me to walk to and from work.”

Emotions swept across his face, which made her wonder if he was remembering his painful hospital experience. He shifted his weight, grimacing slightly. “If I hadn’t seen your drawings, I would have said you were too genteel to work in a hospital. Did you do the same work in Richmond?”

“I’m a trained surgeon, like Mary Edwards Walker, and I need to work. I have skills that can save lives. If I dressed in a surgeon’s uniform, I’d be admitted to the surgical theatre, but because I’m a woman—”

“Other doctors would be reluctant to let you.”

“Exactly.”

They circled the statue of Jackson in silence. When they returned to their starting point, he directed her toward the street crossing.

“Might we stay out a few more minutes? I’m not ready to go back.”

He slowed his pace. She stopped and took a long, hard look at him. There was an unnatural color to his skin, and the tightness around his jaw had returned. “You’re in pain. Aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me before you agreed to escort me?”

“You don’t impress a lady by telling her you’re injured.”

She searched his face. “What happened to you?”

“I was shot several weeks ago.”

“Where?”

“The Battle of Cedar Creek.”

She shook her head. “No, I mean where on your body, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I was shot off my horse. The bullet entered my back, and now it’s lodged close to my spine. The surgeon said if he tried to remove it he could paralyze me, or worse, kill me. I’m able to walk now, though it is uncomfortable at best. They left me the choice. I could put up with the pain, or—”

“Possibly never walk again.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s go back and have tea, then,” she said.

As soon as they entered the front door, Edward said, “Tea is served in the parlor.”

“How delightful. Thank you, Edward.” She sat down on the bench in the foyer and unlaced her shoes, but before she took them off she noticed the colonel staring at her. “What’s the matter?”

Shock jumped into his eyes. “You’re taking your shoes off?”

Her head came up. “Of course. I don’t want to track mud on the floor.”

He glanced down at his muddy feet.

Edward pulled a white cloth from his back pocket, bent over, and cleaned the mud from the colonel’s boots.

Charlotte removed both shoes and put on a pair of black kid leather dance slippers. She handed Edward her muddy shoes. “Would you ask someone to clean these for me?”

He tried not to smile, but his eyes twinkled. “I’ll clean them myself, ma’am.” He carried them by the laces to somewhere in the back of the house she had yet to explore.

“You’re a most unusual woman, Miss Mallory,” Henly mused.

She sat and poured cups of tea. “Please call me Charlotte, or if you need to be formal, then Doctor Mallory will do.”

His full, symmetrical lips pinched in disapproval. “You are a most unusual woman.”

She was not seeking his approval, and she intended to make it clear to him she was an intelligent and well-educated woman with strong opinions. “There has to be more to your name than Colonel Henly.”

He nodded quickly, as if shocked by her question. He cleared his throat. “Gordon Frederick. If you’re so inclined, please call me Gordon.”

She sipped her tea. “Tell me about your injury. Did the surgeon see you at the field hospital?”

“Yes, and then I was examined by several more surgeons once I arrived back in Washington. I’ve been reassigned to the War Department, and Colonel Taylor now leads my regiment.” Bitterness lingered in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about me. I’d much rather hear about you. Where did you study medicine?”

“There’s not much