Ecstasy Wears Emeralds (14 page)

“What do you need, Dr. West?” Lady Pringley pressed, her interest piqued.

“I need a good assistant.”
I almost said
partner
, didn't I? And I thought of Gayle, working and practicing medicine with me. What would that be like—to have the spheres of your working life and your family life blended to coexist?

“Oh, pish! I wish to invite you to one of my holiday gatherings, Dr. West. Nothing too fancy to make you ill at ease, but you know you are a dear personal favorite of mine, and even if you refuse to do more than grouse about in a corner, I want to see you present!”

He rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn't see him as he continued to rub the ointment into her neck and shoulders.
Like a trained monkey that will entertain her guests . . .
“I'll make no promises, your ladyship, for I wouldn't want to disappoint you.”

Chapter
10

She was drawn back to his private study on the first floor, as if being there would give her something that she needed. She'd spent the morning studying surgical techniques for amputation, trying to memorize every anatomical detail she could, while also finishing a few tonics he'd asked her to have ready for delivery on the morrow. But the words on the pages had blurred, and she'd finally accepted that her mind was already wandering and she could use a change in scenery.

But standing in the delightful clutter of his family's collections was like being with Rowan—without the tension and awkward fire between them. Here she could let her fingers trace the spine of his books and play over the silhouettes of his knickknacks and omit worrying about inconsequential matters like permission or propriety. She knew Rowan was out on a call, and was sure that if the bell rang for his return, she would hear it in time to make a quick and timely withdrawal before he caught her.

“Quite a collection, isn't it?”

Startled, she yanked her fingers back as if she'd blistered them and then took in the sight of the tallest bear of a man she had ever seen completely filling the open doorway. Although her first instinct was to run, Gayle did her best to look nonchalant. “Yes, it's marvelous.”

“I wish
I
could see Rowan's marvelous collection!” a muffled voice came from behind the first man, and another gentleman dressed in the height of fashion pushed his way past to come into the room and occupy one of the leather chairs without ceremony. “My God, Michael! While you may be notoriously quiet on your feet, you still make a hell of a wall!”

“Language, Ashe! There is a lady present!” Michael corrected him, and Gayle smiled as the giant suddenly seemed far less frightening as he awkwardly colored at his friend's gaffe. “She doesn't know either of us from burglars, so mind yourself.”

The gentleman he'd called Ashe stood instantly, a graceful blond lion of a man with ice blue eyes, and gave her a courtly bow. “I beg your pardon. I am Ashe Blackwell, a harmless friend of Dr. West's, and I apologize for my wretched language. I am a man still in the process of reformation, but bound to improve, so my wife says.” He waved a hand toward his companion. “And this moving mountain is Michael Rutherford, also a relatively harmless friend of Dr. West who is likely to lose his powers of speech in the presence of a beautiful woman. Well, any woman, for that matter. Mr. Rutherford is shy.”

“I am not . . . shy.” His reddening face told another tale, and Gayle found herself completely charmed by the unlikely pair.

“I'm afraid Dr. West is out on a patient call,” she began, wondering how Carter could have forgotten it and let in visitors. “I'm not sure when he's expected to return.”

“Please don't worry on our account,” Mr. Rutherford said. “We've a terrible habit of making ourselves at home and didn't mean to surprise you.”

“I'd come to apologize to Rowan, but I think I've changed my mind.” Ashe's smile was enigmatic as he held out his hand to take hers. “You must be Miss Renshaw.”

“H-he spoke of me?”

“At great length,” he answered, politely releasing her hand. “You are the promising new assistant.”

“He said promising?” she asked, openly skeptical.

“My memory is impeccable. I'm certain he said something very similar.” Ashe's wicked sense of humor twinkled in his eyes, and Gayle enjoyed the jest.

He said nothing of the kind! But who can fault Rowan for complaining when I've been such a terror?
“Yes, that sounds like exactly what he would have said. And you've come to apologize, have you? Should I ring Carter to bring you some refreshments?”

Michael finally ventured a step into the room. “We should go.”

“No!” Gayle interrupted him, horrified to think she'd driven off Rowan's guests. She did her best to go on more calmly. “I'm the one who's—I'm the one who should be going. I have a great deal of work to do upstairs in the laboratory and several pages of notes to finish before Dr. West returns.”

“You should stay! How else will we find out more about you?” Ashe said, openly disappointed.

Michael cleared his throat and tried again to take control. “Ashe, she has work to do and an endless debate about who should stay and who should go seems a bit silly, don't you think?”

Ashe nodded. “He's right. Running away just because we've bumped into Rowan's new assistant would be the height of rudeness. Please, Miss Renshaw, ignore our presence. All his friends find their way to his study from time to time. We've made it our unofficial gentleman's club—and Rowan is far too kindhearted to protest when the Jaded hide from the world amidst his things.”

“The Jaded?” Gayle was sure she'd missed something.

“Damn it, Ashe! He's not likely to want to mention that to her!” Michael snapped impatiently.

“Language, Michael! There is a lady present!” Ashe's admonishment was accompanied by a mischievous smile. “Now she's going to think it's a bawdy club, the way you're over there puffing away!” He turned to her directly. “A silly nickname for our small circle after a misinterpreted comment or two when we'd returned from India.”

“You were both in India with Rowan?” she asked, rapt in attention.

Mr. Rutherford intervened once again. “And on that note, we'll bid you good day. Come, Ashe. You can return and apologize to Rowan another time, especially since it now seems you'll be apologizing for today as well. It was our pleasure to meet you, Miss Renshaw.” Michael bowed awkwardly, his expression pained at the attempt at social niceties. “Come, Blackwell, before I drag you off to prevent Rowan from killing you.”

Ashe was nonplussed. “Rowan is a doctor. I've never seen the man kill so much as a mouse.” But he also began to retreat. “I am sincerely sorry if I've offended you. I meant to be playful, but my wife has told me more than once that I am an impossible man. Michael is right. We should be going. I'll let Carter know that we—”

“Mr. Blackwell! Mr. Rutherford!” Mrs. Evans greeted them from the doorway. “I didn't realize you were here! It's been ages and I'd have sent up a tray for—” She spotted Gayle and her delight withered to stern disapproval. “I'd come in search of you, but didn't expect to find you here, Miss Renshaw.”

Gayle did her best not to look the part of an errant schoolgirl caught by her headmistress out of bounds. “You were looking for me?”

“Florence has just come from upstairs and informs me that something is bubbling away, quite unattended, in Dr. West's laboratory!”

“Oh!” She ran past Mrs. Evans without a backward glance at either man. “Oh, God!” She took the stairs two at a time, numb with disbelief.
The tonic! I couldn't have left it on the burner—could I? A morning's work, and worse, I could have burnt the house down in my carelessness!

Just as Mrs. Evans had described, there was the container bubbling away, its contents overflowing in an unhappy brown waterfall that smelled more like burnt shoe leather than soothing lemon balm. Her next impression was that the small disaster would take the rest of her afternoon to clean up, but the smell would linger for days. Gayle felt close to tears. She grabbed a leather cloth to pull the beaker off the gas brazier only to spill more brown sludge onto the table and floor.

The bell alerting her to Rowan's return rang merrily and she could only sigh. Since his friends were downstairs, she didn't think to hurry. It was the first social call she was aware of him receiving, and Mr. Blackwell and Mr. Rutherford would certainly warrant a bit of his time before he made his way up to the laboratory to check on her progress.

Rowan, however, must have had other ideas.

She was on her hands and knees under the table scrubbing the hot tarlike substance from the floorboards when he came in, and Gayle had to bite off a groan. The embarrassment of being caught on the floor was overwhelming, and for a split second she almost hoped he wouldn't spot her there.

“Miss Renshaw?” His feet stopped in front of her.

She closed her eyes as if to wish him away. “I . . . I didn't expect you so soon.”

He bent over to peek under the table. “Are you all right?”

She managed to nod, not trusting her voice.

“Can you tell me the main arteries of the forearm and hand?”

She blinked twice before replying. “The brachial artery, the ulnar artery, the radial artery, and . . . the digital, metacarpal, and the deep and superficial palmar arches.”

“Very good.” He slapped the tabletop lightly with his palm in approval. “Well, I'll be downstairs in the study if you need anything.”

“Yes . . .” she answered, shock giving way to gratitude. “Thank you, Dr. West.”

After he'd gone, Gayle remained under the table and just sat back on her heels, almost afraid to move for fear of spoiling the moment.

Chapter
11

On Wednesdays, he took calls in his ground floor office. Amidst his usual working-class patients, it had become quietly known that Dr. West did not turn anyone seeking aid away and did not demand payment for his services of those without the means. His small household staff was familiar with the day's demands, and everyone was at the ready to help as needed. Carter collected cards and orchestrated the lists so that everyone was seen either at a previously appointed time or in the order that they'd arrived to wait. Barnaby, the footman, provided an element of security, along with Theo, and downstairs, Mrs. Wilson baked extra bread to give to anyone whose prime complaint might be hunger.

On this particular Wednesday, Rowan had determined that he would include Miss Renshaw in the day's proceedings. It was a bold move, considering the potential for gossip, but he was hoping she'd be perceived as a nurse, and he couldn't keep her locked in the third-floor laboratory forever.

At least, not with a clear conscience.

He'd instructed her to wear her plainest dress and white laboratory apron to try to mute her presence, but it was hardly successful. Her plainest print was a flattering jade green that set off her dark hair and remarkable eyes, and even with an oversized white apron, she was simply stunning to behold.