Ecstasy Wears Emeralds (31 page)

“How in the world do you deduct what an unknown person may or may not know? I think you're off the beam slightly.” Rowan's criticism was gently given.

“I think Hastings could be the key!”

“Me?” Josiah looked instantly uncomfortable. “The key to what exactly?”

“If I were trying to learn the identity of the Jaded, I would only need one name first. I was the idiot who caught Lady Barrow's eye and earned the nickname
Jaded
in that article, so let's say I'm the start of it. I'm often at Rowan's, as are you, Michael, Darius, and even Galen. Galen would have cemented the connection when he summoned Michael after he was forced to leave London to look after Miss Moreland. And Darius—I'm afraid our connection was similarly established when I dragged him out to that ball last spring and we were publicly seen together right before . . . well, a very memorable scene with Caroline. But where is Josiah?”

“Yes,” Josiah echoed sarcastically. “Where is Josiah?”

“We joke among ourselves at how difficult you are to locate, and frankly, no one's gotten you out of your painter's garret for months. I'll bet our writer is having the same trouble. Hastings may be just elusive enough to stand apart. If he started asking questions in the Company's circles, he might actually get answers.” Ashe finished his proposal, a man most satisfied with himself.

“What? Like some sort of Jaded agent, secretly acting on our behalf?” Rowan said.

Josiah shook his head. “No. It's an interesting thought, but no. If anyone is watching, I'm as much in the thick of these meetings as the next man. I was at that same party with you, Ashe, and if you recall, I think
I
was the one who coined the phrase in that misguided conversation! I've been to the sporting club with Ashe, had more than my share of drinks with Michael, and am no stranger to any one of your doorways. While I may have missed the social season this last year, I'm not as invisible as you seem to think.”

Rowan leaned back in his chair. “Leave the man be! Michael had the right of it.” At Michael's name, Rowan glanced at the man and realized he'd left the circle a bit and was standing at the windows with his back to them. “Michael?”

“I've let all of you down.” His voice echoed with defeat as he turned to face them. “I swore to protect you, and for all I've fussed like a mother hen, that's all I've managed. I thought we'd hear from the culprit again, before the full moon as he'd promised, and I was confident that I'd be able to stop him. But this . . .” He shook his head.

Galen approached their friend, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder. “You're just one man, Michael Rutherford, even if you are the most intimidating man we've ever seen—and you aren't responsible for our safety. It isn't possible.”

Rowan seconded the sentiment. “It's too great a burden, Michael.”

Rutherford shrugged but rejoined them, taking a seat on the sofa. “Ashe may be casting stones in the wrong direction, but at least he's thinking of ways to stir the pot.”

“What are you saying?” Ashe asked.

“I'm saying, if you're going to really stir the pot, you'll need a bigger spoon.” Michael leaned forward as he outlined his plan. “What if we took an advertisement out in the London
Times
and called out this bastard? What if we told him we don't deal with cowards? What if we invited him to step out of the shadows, speak plainly about what he's after, and see what happens?”

Galen sat down next to Michael. “We might gain control of the playing field.”

“If the bastard agrees to play along,” Ashe said. “Hell, I like it! Call him out. I'll meet him under a bridge somewhere, and we can settle this whole business in a single night's work.”

Every member of the Jaded shook their heads or grunted their disapproval in the next instant. Not one of them wanted Ashe to be put in a position where the temptation to seek vengeance could cause him to forfeit his life. “You, Ashe,” Rowan spoke for them all, “are going to stay home with Caroline and count your blessings. And
no one
is meeting this dangerous thug under a dark bridge! I think we can be smarter than that, can't we, gentlemen?”

“Penny novels aside, I'm sure we can come up with something better.” Michael leaned forward, and before long they were all huddled around the table, quietly trying to plot a plan that ensured that the Jaded wouldn't be caught off guard again.

Chapter
24

Rowan was in a far better mood returning home. Being in the company of the Jaded always made him feel whole, as if the ground beneath him were magically more solid from the camaraderie.

He'd managed a stop of his own before reaching the sanctuary of his brownstone. It was a gift for Gayle that he'd been planning for some time, and one he knew would bring her immense pleasure. He imagined her reaction, indulging in a daydream where she expressed her gratitude with kisses, perhaps even crying at his thoughtfulness and tenderly confessing her secret love for him that his careful token had evoked.

With his bundle tucked under his arm, Rowan alighted from the carriage with a determined stride.
A man makes his own luck, they say! And if the gods are—

Rowan stopped in his tracks at the sight of the man on his doorstep. It was the worst reception Rowan could have imagined. Dr. Horace Whitfield was standing on his doorstep, apparently in the process of ringing the bell.

“Dr. Whitfield! Has Carter left you out in the cold?” he jested, then opened the door to let them both in just in time to startle the poor butler. “I was just on my way in, Mr. Carter. Can you ask Mrs. Evans to send a tray up to the library?”

Carter nodded, retreating to leave Rowan to tend to his guest. Rowan walked the older man upstairs to his study, praying for once that the eternally curious Gayle Renshaw would stay above stairs until he could sort Horace away. “To what do I owe this honor, Dr. Whitfield? I wasn't expecting you until the end of the month.”

“I hear that you've hired a nurse.”

“Have you?” Rowan did his best to sound nonchalant as he put his bag away and set the wrapped bundle aside.

“Clever man!” Dr. Whitfield stood to move to the sideboard and poured himself a liberal amount of scotch, for his usual medicinal purposes. “It is hard to stay competitive these days, but no doubt your blue bloods are mightily impressed by the idea of you having a nurse on hand for your calls.”

Whitfield, you're such a prig!
The man had been an acquaintance of his uncle and exactly the kind of man who self-appoints himself a mentor and authority figure. Except the only authority Horace Whitfield wielded was over a dwindling roster of elderly patients in North London and his own liquor cabinet. If he wasn't still tied into the board at the Royal Academy of Medicine and the British Medical Association, Rowan didn't think the man would have a single friend.

“To be honest, I'm exhausted from a long house call. Was there something you wished from me?” Rowan wanted nothing of the subject, not with a man like Horace poking into things. His relationship with Gayle was still so new and fragile, and every instinct urged him to protect her from the scrutiny of men like Horace. A single misunderstanding could unravel everything she hoped to achieve, and Rowan knew that if the Association caught wind of her efforts, they would deliberately block her.

“Quite a gimmick, to hire a woman like that to hold their hands!”

“I have never invested much in gimmicks. But speaking of investments, I heard you bought a new carriage and matching set of four white-stocking bays to boot. Did you receive a royal appointment that I haven't heard about yet?”

Horace held up his glass. “I'll drink to that delightful dream.” After a respectable swallow or two, he gave Rowan a wink. “My new young wife thought I should ride a bit more comfortably and look the part of a well-to-do physician.”

“Lucky man.”

Horace shrugged. “I'm the luckiest man I know! They say that the number three has its charms, and I must say, the third Mrs. Whitfield's dowry has made her my very favorite wife—may the first two rest in peace.”

Rowan wasn't sure what to say and decided to hold his tongue. Horace's lack of sentimentality was more than jarring, and he wondered what the new Mrs. Whitfield thought of her luck.

“I'd also heard she was pretty!” Horace went on cheerfully, and it took Rowan a moment to realize that they had unfortunately left the topic of Mrs. Whitfield behind.

Even so, he attempted ignorance. “Who?”

“Your nurse, of course! You sly thing! I would have thought you'd have been terrified to hire some fresh-faced creature, for fear of upsetting your more matronly patients' sensibilities. But my ears haven't picked up a whisper of complaint! However do you manage it?” Horace snorted another swallow down before going on. “But the answer's in the problem, isn't it? She's far more than pretty, isn't she? Every male patient will perk at the sight of her, and you'll be credited with their miraculous recoveries, and the women—she's pretty enough they'll be charmed by the attentions of an angel. Am I right?”

“
You
should hire a nurse, Horace. Then you could spend more time with that darling new bride of yours.”

Horace waved him off. “Only a man without a wife would think that any bride would allow a man to employ a woman like that! It's your bachelorhood that gives you the advantage in this game.”

“It's no game, Horace.”

“Then what is it, Rowan?” the old man pressed, and Rowan felt cornered.

“It doesn't matter what I say, Horace. You've made up your mind.” He tried to pull back as diplomatically as he could. “I'm practically unknown in your lofty circles at the Association, Horace. I can't imagine the addition of one woman to my service would warrant this much attention. Really?”

“You are not unknown, Rowan. Don't patronize me and don't underestimate your own talents. I'm a crass man, and as you know, I don't agree with the way you coddle patients and muddy your hallways with indigent drunks and prostitutes once a week—but your star is rising nonetheless. I just wished to assure myself that it was indeed a nurse you've hired, and that you aren't attempting some strange revolutionary nonsense by secretly including a woman in your practice. Because there was talk of you seeking an apprentice last fall, and now . . .” Horace finished his scotch and set the glass aside. “Reassure me, Dr. West, that everything is aboveboard with this woman.”

“This truth must stay between us, Horace.”

“Of course.”

“Everything is completely aboveboard. Miss Renshaw is a headstrong woman with the notion that she is interested in medicine. I imagine her family was distraught and beside themselves at her refusal to even consider suitors and the security of married life. When I saw that she would not be dissuaded and may even put herself into reckless jeopardy, I decided to help her.”

“T-to help her?”

“By leading her on a wild goose chase, Horace. I am teaching her, admittedly, because I have no desire to be embarrassed in front of my patients when she is present, but the ultimate lesson will likely be her acceptance of her place and her grateful return to the bosom of her family to prepare for marriage.”

“She honestly thinks you're training her?”

“She's useful enough in a crisis, and as talented as any man I have ever encountered. It is a tragedy that her gender will most likely keep her from practicing the art professionally. If she was truly my apprentice and she continued to develop her skills at her current pace, I would be forced to recommend her to a medical school for admittance to their clinical programs, Horace.”

“B-but she is not truly your apprentice!”

“Who has ever heard of anything so ridiculous?” Rowan felt like a man dancing on a dagger's point. Telling Horace Whitfield what he wanted to hear without denying anything outright or maligning Gayle was making his head hurt.

“Thank Providence you've not lost your reason! I'm sure her family will be extremely grateful when you've shown her the error of her ways. But her reputation! I certainly hope whatever baker or butcher is lined up to marry your pretty maid won't mind this unorthodox odyssey into Town. But I can't think of a tanner or undertaker that would take a woman with such an unnatural mind! And I'm assuming you've protected yourself in this arrangement. You leave yourself open to all sorts of indecent accusations, Dr. West, by having such a creature in your care.”