Ecstasy Wears Emeralds (30 page)

She lit more lamps to improve the light and then began to pull everything she could on gastric conditions and their treatments. It was a daunting bit of research, but Gayle found comfort in the direction of her work and took a copious amount of notes to ensure that she didn't miss anything that might help Mrs. Blackwell to regain her health.

When her brunch tray magically materialized next to her, Gayle smiled and knew that she'd once again managed to happily lose herself in the maze of her studies. She propped up a book with its spine and ate her meal as she continued reading, dismissing the ghostlike voice of her mother saying something about ill-bred women reading at the table.

“
Digestive Diseases and Their Origins
?” Peter James's voice broke in from the doorway as he surveyed the title of her textbook. “I'm not sure that would go with any stew, no matter how delicious!”

Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, and she set aside her tray. “I . . . I agree it's not everyone's idea of entertaining reading with egg custard and sausages.”

“Not
anyone's
idea, but if I'd caught you reading poetry or a book on fashion, I might have thought to ring for the doctor!” He approached her, his manner as casual as ever. “I apologize for interrupting. It seems that's all I do!”

“No, please don't.” It was the first time she'd seen him since he'd sent the note, but she was glad that it wasn't awkward between them. “I'm the one who should apologize. My reply to your offer may have seemed a bit abrupt, but I was—”

“No worries! No worries! You've a right to your days, and I know how few and far between they can be when you're in the employ of someone who has a profession that keeps all hours.” He stopped at the medicine cabinet and began his tallies while they spoke. “I don't think I had a day to myself the first year I worked for Mr. Fitzroy.”

“That's dreadful!” she said.

He shrugged. “He is one of the best chemists in London and a fierce businessman. There's ten men around every corner that would be happy to take my place.”

“I suppose that's true.” She closed her book. “But I'm sure Mr. Fitzroy would be quick to say how none of those ten might have your skills or enthusiasm.”

“You're too kind!” He wrote down a count and then turned back to her. “Miss Renshaw, I know it's even harder for you. A female assistant. Dr. West doesn't want to see you out on a day off. He's thinking of his reputation—and maybe protecting yours, a bit. I'd a respectable day in mind, but if it's a rule that you're not to step out with any gentleman . . .” He trailed off as if hoping she'd correct his misperception and take back her earlier refusal.

Gayle chose the cowardly way out. “Dr. West is very firm about these matters. I'm so glad you understand. You've been such a good friend to me, I'd hate to think that we couldn't be civil to each other.”

“Oh, no fear, Miss Renshaw!” His smile was warm, dismissing the tension between them. “A true friend doesn't abandon you at the first obstacle. Besides, I see you regularly enough with my deliveries, and we can just look forward to those visits.”

“Yes, I . . . suppose that's true.” Gayle wasn't sure if she should take him at his word or if he meant to imply something more. “Unless Mr. Fitzroy has a miraculous change of heart and allows me to cross his shop's threshold again.”

Peter laughed. “We'd be back at the smelling salts!” He made a note on his order sheet and then gave her a more sober look. “Not to fish for gossip, but I heard you went out on a call with Dr. West to the Blackwells'.”

“Oh!”
Word does travel fast!

“He's a favorite of mine, of course,” Peter reminded her. “Was everything all right there? Did Mr. Blackwell have an accident?”

“It was Mrs. Blackwell, actually. She . . . suffered a fall.” Gayle didn't feel comfortable saying more, and Mr. James looked horrified enough at the report.

“
Mrs.
Blackwell?”

“She'll recover,” she added.

“Well, there's a relief! The gossips had it wrong and said it was the man of the house who'd taken ill. That'll teach me to listen to idle chatter!” Peter walked back to the worktable with her books and notes spread out. “Do you mind if I ask you something, Miss Renshaw?”

“Not at all.”

“You're not just interested in medicine, are you? I mean, you're not just nosing around the edges or cleaning up the laboratory, are you?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

“But what will you do with it all? You may have overprepared yourself if your ambition was to work in a hospital, miss. They won't take you on as a nurse if you know enough to argue with their doctors. . . .”

She held her breath for just a moment. He'd never been unkind or judgmental, and she trusted him. “I was hoping to become a doctor one day. Dr. West has been very supportive and is doing everything he can to see that I'm properly trained.”

“Really?” he asked, his entire demeanor suddenly touched with sadness. “Well, then I'll hope for that for you. But between us, Miss Renshaw”—he picked up his order next to the cabinet—“even when a man appears to be helping you, it may be that he's just helping himself.”

She gasped in shock, but before she could compose a protest without revealing too much of her relationship with Rowan, Peter James was gone.

The Jaded had gathered again. The early morning impromptu meeting was again at Ashe's home—despite Michael's wish to gather somewhere more clandestine in case they were being watched. But Blackwell had vehemently refused to be more than two floors away from Caroline, and the others had agreed, forcing Michael to concede defeat.

“I meant to thank you again . . . for saving Caroline's life. I was—less than gracious, Rowan.”

“You threatened to kill me more than once, but”—Rowan smiled, shaking his hand—“I'm only glad that it's over and you still have your beautiful wife with you.”

“I always imagined the healing arts as a bit more delicate, Rowan.”

Rowan shook his head. “It's more of a boxing match sometimes than a chess game. But every once in a while, it's miraculous, and so I've come to accept the rougher days to balance it all out.”

Galen Hawke, now Lord Winters, stepped forward to welcome Rowan. “I missed your library and our gatherings, friend, but as for this tangle, I'll admit a part of me just wanted to take Haley to Italy and be shut of this.”

Ashe held out a warm apple cider to Galen, aware of Hawke's preference to avoid alcohol. “As if she'd let you! But on a serious note, if it is our families that are in danger, then no man here will blink if you wish to take your bride as far away as possible. If I'd been as smart—”

“You aren't gifted with second sight, Ashe,” Rowan was quick to intervene to spare his friend an unnecessary bout of guilt over what had happened. “None of us are.”

“Did Lady Winters return with you to London?” Josiah asked from his chair by the fireplace.

Hawke shook his head, sitting down with his drink. “I left her there. Her aunt Alice was feeling poorly with a cold, and I didn't want to alarm her. Besides, her father was enjoying the visit, and I knew she'd be in good hands.”

“That's for the best, then.” Rowan moved to pour himself a measure of brandy. “So it's only Thorne who isn't here.”

“Darius sends his regards.” Ashe pulled out his letter, setting it on the table in front of them as a courtesy if they wished to read it. “He wrote that he's staying on and thinking he might uncover something there in Edinburgh. We've been doing our gem brokering through the Scottish trade jewelers, and Thorne thinks they may have a better chance of hearing any rumors about the pursuit of a sacred object from India.”

Michael hung back a bit, allowing the others to settle in as the men began to catch up on the matter at hand. No other mysterious packages had been delivered. The conversation was a balance between discussing new strategies to keep themselves safe, deciphering the letter and the meaning of
sacred treasure
, and holding Ashe back from running wild with a sword into the East India Trading Company offices. When Josiah quietly pointed out that they still didn't even have a wisp of proof that the Company had anything to do with it, pandemonium broke loose.

“What about Bascombe? He as much as confessed that the Company was behind all of it!” Ashe said.

Rowan tried to defend Hastings. “But if they know that he's babbled, why be so secretive now?”

“Exactly!” Josiah said, but slunk down in his chair. “I mean, it's not exactly Indian assassins with knives, is it?”

Michael held up a hand. “We're getting ahead of ourselves, gentlemen.”

“Yes, if the sacred treasure is separate from the rest of the riches, what the hell are they talking about? There were bits and baubles, but I don't remember a damn thing standing out above the others! Hell, it's why it was so easy to parse it all out, remember?” Ashe finished his drink to set it down in frustration.

Michael nodded. “I've been over it in my head a thousand times. We none of us knew much about the cut or quality of a gem, or how it would be valued—any of it.”

“Colors,” Josiah recalled wistfully. “We'd left so much to fate and chance in order to survive and escape that dungeon in India, it just made sense when we divided the gems and bits of jewelry to do the same. Even then, I remember thinking how remarkable it was. No one was arguing about the size of their share or the value of what we'd taken. We just put them in piles by color on that rough wool blanket spread out over that bunk bed and had Michael hold six stones. And we chose blindly. I never even blinked at how right it all felt. Did any of you?”

They all shook their heads. Ashe smiled. “I thought it was brilliant. Galen chose a ruby and took all the red, I had the sapphires, Darius took the opals, and Rowan, the emeralds. Michael ended up with the diamonds.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And for Hastings, there were pearls of every size up to pigeon eggs. I still can't believe it's real.”

“And the oath,” Michael added. “We just took that oath and we've all stood behind it. We kept our heads and all of us have benefited. No one has made a great ostentatious fool of himself, and unless I missed something, most of us still have our gems tucked away.”

Ashe nodded. “Darius brokered only a few gems for each of us through his contacts in Edinburgh for remarkable returns. I'll admit I was surprised at how little we've spent!”

Galen shrugged. “I surprised myself! I made a few improvements of the family estates after I sold just four of my rubies, but then several old investments began to come in, and with my unexpected inheritance, there's been no need.”

“I thought the emeralds would be a memory when I wished to get a new carriage and outfit my laboratory, but I sold two—remember, Michael? And then a cousin I'd practically forgotten I had died and left me enough to fund my Wednesday practice for a lifetime. A godsend, but . . .” Rowan's brow furrowed since good fortune had never existed for a West for as long as he could remember.

“We've been extremely lucky, so far.”

“Extremely,” Ashe echoed grimly, clearly thinking of his beloved Caroline and just how close he'd come to his luck running out.

“What about Hastings?” Rowan asked. “No offense, Josiah, but you don't look like a man with hidden wealth. We've respected your privacy, but have you lost your fortune?”

“Why does everyone always think I'm poor? I've sold one pearl, and Darius acquired a miraculous amount for it, and frankly, I've . . . I haven't needed to make improvements to an estate or buy a carriage.”

“It's only because your coat is in worse shape than Rowan's, and
that
is saying something. But I like that you're putting out an aura of starving young artist with paint stains on your clothing,” Ashe defended him, then stood to refill his glass with port. “I suspect he does it to draw in the ladies, gentlemen.”

“Leave him be.” Michael gave Ashe a quelling look. “All right, then. None of us have drawn undue attention to our numbers, but even so, whoever this is not only knows of us, but knows what happened in that dungeon and knows about the treasure.”

“How is that possible?” Galen asked. “I know we determined that hiding in plain sight was wiser, but we've never really let down our guard.”

Ashe stood slowly, an idea seizing him. “The letter implied that they knew all of us! But what if they don't? What if one of us is still an unknown to them? It may give us an advantage if we want to start asking questions.”