The Doctor's Proposal. Marion Lennox

but—’

      ‘Then, please, move your vehicle. I’m two hours late and you’re making me later.’

      She wasn’t listening. ‘Is there anyone else we can talk to?’

      ‘Angus is alone.’

      ‘In that huge house?’

      ‘He’s accustomed to it,’ he told her. ‘But if it’ll make you happier, he won’t be here much longer. He’s being transferred to the Dolphin Bay nursing home tomorrow. It’d be much easier to call there, don’t you think? But if you’re thinking of pushing him to change his will, don’t bother. You bring a lawyer near him and I’ll call the police.’

      She gazed straight at him, her eyes wide and assessing.

      ‘Why are you being horrible?’

      ‘I’m not being any more horrible than I have to be. Angus is weary to death of family pressure and I’m in a hurry.’

      ‘So be nice to me fast. Tell me why we can’t see the earl.’

      He sighed. He’d had this family up to his ears. ‘Angus has severe breathing difficulties,’ he told her. ‘He’s settled for the night and if you think he’s coming downstairs to indulge a couple of money-grubbing—’

      ‘You see, there’s the problem,’ she said, and her own anger was palpable. ‘You’re treating us as if we’re something lower than pond scum. We don’t even know Angus. We never knew he was an earl or that he was living in something that looks like a cross between Disneyland and Camelot. And as for money-grubbing—’

      He was hardly listening. He couldn’t. He was so late! He’d promised Mavis Hipton that he’d look in on her this afternoon, and he knew she needed more analgesic to make it though the night. Mavis suffered in stoic silence. She wouldn’t complain, but he didn’t want her suffering because of these two.

      He glanced at his watch. Pointedly. ‘You said you’re family,’ he told her. ‘Why do you know nothing? You’re not making sense.’

      ‘My sister was married to one of Angus’s nephews,’ she told him, standing square in front of him, making it quite clear he wasn’t going anywhere until she had answers. ‘Susie’s never met her husband’s family, and she’d like to.’

      ‘Especially now he’s dying,’ he snapped. It had only been this afternoon that he’d fielded yet another phone call from Kenneth, and Kenneth had been palpably pleased to hear that Angus was failing. The phone call had left Jake feeling ill. And now…was this Kenneth’s wife?

      He didn’t have time to care.

      ‘I need to go.’

      ‘We didn’t know Angus was dying,’ she snapped, her colour mounting. ‘As far as we knew, Rory’s uncle Angus was as poor as a church mouse, but he’s all the family Rory had—except a brother he didn’t get on with—so we’ve come all this way to see him. Of all the appalling things to say, that we’re fortune hunters!’

      He hesitated at that. For a moment he stopped being angry and forced himself to think. What had she said? Rory’s Uncle Angus. Not Kenneth, then. Rory. The nephew in the States.

      She was so indignant that he was forced to do a bit more fast thinking. OK, maybe he was out of line. Maybe his logic was skewed. Angus was one of his favourite patients, and telling him he had to go into a nursing home had been a really tough call.

      Kenneth might be nasty and unbalanced but there was no reason to assume everyone else was.

      Maybe these two really were family.

      He forced himself to think a bit more. Angus had talked affectionately of his nephew Rory. Jake remembered the old man had been devastated to hear he’d died.

      If Rory had been married, then this pair really were part of Angus’s family.

      Caring family?

      The idea that hit him then was so brilliant that it made him blink.

      ‘You really don’t know Angus?’ he asked, thinking so fast he felt dizzy.

      ‘I told you. No.’

      ‘But you’d like to see him tonight?’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘And maybe stay the night,’ he told her, ideas cementing. He hated leaving Angus. He needed a full-time nurse, but Angus refused point blank to have one. With the state of his lungs, leaving him by himself seemed criminal. He should be in hospital but he refused to go. There was a bed at the nursing home available tomorrow and the old man had agreed with reluctance that he’d go then.

      Which left tonight.

      If he could persuade these two to stay, even if they were after the old man’s money…

      ‘I’ll introduce you,’ he told her, doing such a fast backtrack that he startled her.

      ‘What, now?’

      ‘Yes, now. If you promise to stay the night then I’ll introduce you.’

      She was staring at him like he had a kangaroo loose in the top paddock. ‘We can’t stay the night.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Well…’ She looked at him in astonishment. ‘We’re not invited.’

      ‘I’m inviting you. Angus needs his family now more than he’s ever needed anyone. Tomorrow he’s being moved into a nursing home but he needs help now. He has pulmonary fibrosis—he has severely diminished lung capacity and I’m worried he’ll collapse and not be able to call for help.’ He eyed her without much hope, but it was worth asking anyway. ‘I don’t suppose either of you is a nurse?’

      She eyed him back, with much the same expression as he was using. Like she didn’t know what to make of him but she was sure his motives were questionable.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I told you.’ He sighed and glanced at his watch again. ‘He’s ill. He needs help. If you want to see him…are you prepared to help? If one of you is a nurse…’

      ‘Neither of us is a nurse. Susie is a landscape gardener.’

      ‘Damn,’ he said and started turning away.

      ‘But I’m a doctor.’

      A doctor.

      There was a long pause.

      He turned back and looked at her—from the tip of her burnt curls to the toe of her muddy foot.

      She was glaring at him.

      He wasn’t interested in the glare.

      A doctor.

      ‘You’re kidding me,’ he said at last. ‘A people doctor?’

      ‘A people doctor.’

      A tiny hope was building into something huge, and he tried frantically to quell it.

      ‘You know about lung capacity?’

      ‘We have heard of lungs in America, yes,’ she snapped, losing her temper again. ‘The last ship into port brought some coloured pictures. The current medical belief in Manhattan is that the lungs appear to be somewhere between the neck and the groin. Unless we’ve got it wrong? It’s different in Australia?’

      Whoa. He tried a smile and held his hand up placatingly.

      ‘Sorry. I only meant—’

      ‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she told him bitterly. ‘Who cares what you meant? You’ve insulted us in every way possible. But…’ She hesitated. ‘Angus is dying?’

      His smile faded. ‘He’s dying,’ he said softly. ‘Maybe not tonight, but soon. Much sooner if he’s left alone. He’s refusing