Chapter Twenty-Five
“You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”
FITZ
“HELLO, YOUR GRACE. I’M DR. Taylor,” an unknown man’s voice interrupted my vigil over Monroe. I grew more uneasy with every minute that ticked by. We were well into the night now, and still she would not wake. She’d twitched a few times in the past half hour, and each movement made me hope she would open her beautiful eyes. But the hope vanished each time, leaving me with disappointment and even despair.
“Dr. Taylor,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from begging Monroe to wake up.
The doctor, who was probably in his late thirties, pulled a rolling stool around to Monroe’s other side. Monroe would no doubt be sad to have missed him—I think he’s what she would refer to as dishy . Personally, I didn’t see the appeal.
“I’ve been going over her test results.” Dr. Taylor pulled out a penlight and manually opened Monroe’s eyes to exam them. “I admit she is a bit of an enigma.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“Physically, we can’t find anything wrong with her. Her brain activity appears normal, which leads me to believe it may be more psychological.”
Was he calling her mental? “What does that mean?” I sounded more defensive than I felt.
The doctor lowered his penlight and smiled. “That is not a slight. In rare cases, patients dealing with trauma or severe stress can fall into a pseudo coma. We call it psychogenic unresponsiveness. Has Ms. Wilde experienced a recent trauma, or has she been under any undue stress? Any of those factors, combined with the fall, could account for her unresponsiveness.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “We had a row before she fell off the horse. I said some things I deeply regret. Is this my fault?” The thought sickened me.
“I doubt it, Your Grace. One lovers’ spat is hardly grounds for this condition.”
He didn’t know Monroe. I’d devastated her. This was deeper than a lovers’ spat. While we had never been lovers, we were more. These last hours I’d felt that more acutely than I ever had. She was the best part of me. “So, when will she wake up?”
“That is a good question. I think the best thing for now is to make sure Ms. Wilde feels safe, and we don’t forcibly arouse her.”
I’d love to arouse her. Not forcibly, obviously.
“Speak gently to her,” he recommended. “If she doesn’t wake up overnight, I suggest we transport her to a more specialized treatment center in London.”
I nodded, tortured by the thought that I was the reason for her unconscious state.
The doctor stood. “We’ll keep monitoring her. I’ll be back in an hour to check on her.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as Dr. Taylor walked out of the room, I caressed Monroe’s hand that I’d held tightly for the past several hours. “Monroe,” I whispered gently. “I wish I knew the right words to say to make you feel safe. You should see all the text and voice messages I’ve received from people who care about you. You are so loved. Your dad is on his way here. Your grams says to tell you that you are indeed her favorite grandchild.” I smiled. “Of course, Anna and Kingston send their love. Several people from the park have sent flowers with the kindest of notes saying how you’ve touched their lives, even though they’ve only known you for a short time. That’s a gift, Monroe. You are a gift, the best gift I’ve ever received. I’m sorry I ever made you question that. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Monroe didn’t stir.
Defeated, I raised her hand and pressed my lips to her smooth skin, soaking her in. Silently, I berated myself. Why hadn’t I let myself love her completely when I had the chance? I knew why, and I hated myself for it. Yes, I’d been trying to protect her. But ... I was the product of my parents. From the time I could walk and talk, they trained me to be cognizant of appearances. Anything less than perfection was unacceptable. But what is perfection in a world that is constantly changing its definition of acceptable behavior and beliefs? Kingston was right. Why should I give a damn what anyone thinks? Who are they to me? I know who Monroe is to me. She is my everything.
“Monroe, it’s not you who needs to change. It’s me,” I admitted out loud.
“Knock, knock,” the last voice I wanted to hear interrupted my musings.
I whipped my head around to see Tony waltz in. He wore his regimental costume, minus the jacket. I doubted Agatha knew he’d escaped that asylum. “Who let you in here? Visiting hours are over.”
“I have a way with the ladies,” he bragged.
I would be finding out which ladies, and I would have their jobs for this. “Get the hell out of here,” I whispered harshly, hoping Monroe didn’t feel the tension in the room. More than anything, I wanted her to feel safe.
Tony’s smug grin disappeared when he laid eyes on Monroe, covered with tubes and wires. “Is she all right? Why isn’t she awake?”
“That’s the question of the day.” I turned away from him.
He didn’t get the hint and bravely came to stand next to me. “She hasn’t woken up at all?”
“No. Now, leave. This room is to remain a safe environment, and believe me when I say you are not safe here.”
“You don’t intimidate me,” Tony spat.
“Perhaps this will,” I scoffed. “I know you are an employee at the park and not a guest. How did you get them to cover that up for you?”
The prick refused to say. I would be having words with the park’s board of directors over this.
“I also know you didn’t lose your job because of Monroe. You were embezzling funds from your family business. I wouldn’t expect any holiday invites from family this year.” I couldn’t resist needling him.
He cleared his throat, and from the corner of my eye, I could see him stretching his neck.
“Bit uncomfortable now, are we?”
“It’s none of your damn business,” Tony spluttered.
“You made it my business when you showed up for Monroe’s and my holiday.”
“One I paid for,” he grumbled.
“Ah ... so this is about money,” I surmised.
“You owe me.”
“You’re wrong on that account, but regardless, you could have called me or sent me a bill. Why come here?” I demanded to know.
“For Monroe,” he stammered.
“We both know that’s a lie. Try again before I call security.” I turned toward him, happy to see his face drained of any color and beads of sweat on his forehead. When he didn’t answer, I deduced why. “Are we in some trouble with the law in the States?”
“I just need some cash,” he mumbled.
“You won’t be getting any from me.”
“You rich bastard,” he spewed.
“Guilty on both counts.” I’d never felt like more of a bastard. The pain on Monroe’s face last night after I’d talked Darcy to her , as she said, would forever torture me. There wasn’t punishment enough. “I think we are done here now. You wouldn’t want Agatha to learn you snuck out. Sounds like you need the paycheck and perhaps a place to hide out, mate.”
“I’m not your mate.”
“Right you are. Now, leave.” I turned from him and focused back on Monroe.
The imbecile didn’t move. “She will be all right, won’t she?” He sounded genuinely concerned. “She’s the best person I’ve ever known.”
That was something we could agree on, but I refused to say it.
Tony turned and walked out the door.
I cradled Monroe’s hand between my own. “Monroe, did you hear that? You are the best person. Come back to me. I love you.”