What a Lady Most Desires by Lecia Cornwall

as he waited for the verdict. His ribs ached but he ignored the pain for the moment. “Will I see again?”
    Stephen heard the sound of the chair creaking as the doctor shifted, puffing out a tobacco-­scented breath. “I don’t know. The eyes themselves are not damaged. Perhaps there was a blow to the head during the fighting? Do you remember that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, it’s not important. I’ve seen a good many soldiers who can’t recall the details of battle. It’s possible your vision may return. It is also possible it won’t. We’ll know in time.”
    â€œHow much time?”
    â€œThat too is impossible to say.” There was a slight edge of impatience in the doctor’s tone.
    Stephen stared up at the ceiling, or where the ceiling most likely was, since he could not see it, and might never see it again. He frowned at the idea that simply being able to look up and see a plain ceiling would be a joy beyond measure.
    He heard the doctor rise, heard the clink of glass, the spill of water. A familiar bitter scent filled the air. “No laudanum,” Stephen said.
    â€œCome now, Major. It will help you sleep, ease the pain,” the doctor said in the kind of singsong tone he might have used to coax a child.
    â€œI don’t want it,” Stephen insisted. His sister had dosed herself with laudanum after the terrible tragedy of losing her first husband and her child. She had become dependent on it, and it had very nearly killed her. He was stronger than that, braver. He could face his demons—­even in the dark, and alone.
    There was a quick rap at the door. “Come,” the doctor said. Stephen’s ears pricked as he listened for his visitor to enter.
    He caught the faint hint of perfume, and knew it was Delphine. He recognized the sound of her footsteps now, quick and light. “Good evening, Doctor. How is he?”
    â€œHe’s refusing to take anything for the pain, my lady. Can I prevail upon you to convince him?” The sweetness in his voice suggested the good doctor had a great fondness for Lady Delphine. He imagined her smiling, charming the man with a bat of her lashes. He felt a flicker of—­what, jealousy, longing?
    â€œI will try, but he has visitors who insist it is most urgent they speak to him.”
    â€œYou can speak directly to me since I’m right here,” Stephen snapped. “My ears still work.” He heard the slight inhale of her breath. Was it guilt or anger at his rebuke?
    â€œOf course. I’m sorry. I only came to see if the doctor had finished examining you,” she said patiently. She appeared to have infinite patience. He wished he had not spoken so sharply. “Nicholas Temberlay and Colonel Fairlie are downstairs. Will you see them?”
    â€œNick?” Nicholas Temberlay was one of his oldest friends. They’d fought together in almost every battle—­save this one—­side by side. He would be overjoyed to see—­ to visit with —­Nicholas. Bitterness filled him, and he clutched at the sheets like a cantankerous invalid. He didn’t want anyone to see him this way. He was not a vain man, but he wondered if he looked presentable for company. He had no idea.
    â€œWas Nick injured?” he asked.
    â€œNo, he’s well. A few cuts, a bruise or two, but Meg is taking good care of him,” Delphine said lightly.
    â€œIs she here as well?”
    â€œNo. In fact, Nicholas seemed quite—­” She paused. “Serious, formal—­even with me, and I’ve known him since I was a child.”
    Stephen felt his chest tighten. Was it bad news, the kind of thing no one but a friend could tell him? Had something happened to his sister, or Julia, perhaps, or was Nicholas expecting to find him at death’s door?
    â€œCome in,” he heard Delphine say, heard chairs being drawn up close to the