“No worries, Carter. I’ll see her and have this matter squared away as quickly as possible.” He started for the receiving room, then hesitated. “Wait here, if you can, Carter, in case something is required?”
“Yes, of course!” Carter’s relief was palpable and Rowan took another deep breath to try to banish the grinding pain behind his eyes before he opened the door. He wasn’t sure what to expect from his butler’s expression. But a lady on his doorstep at such a late hour, alone and unexpected, didn’t bode well. Even so, he knew she wasn’t a bawd, or Carter would never have allowed her in the house. It might simply be that the lady was too embarrassed to make an appointment. Although—
His speculation ground to a halt as he found the female in question. She was like an exotic young bird perched on one of the carved wooden chairs in a beautifully tailored traveling dress that only added to his impression of a swan. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek little nest of curls that trailed down to accent the graceful lines of her face and neck. She was an aristocratic creature with balanced and symmetrical features, and the look she cast in his direction was one of mild impatience and cold calm. She stood as he came through the door, a porcelain cameo brought to life, and Rowan had to remind himself to breathe as eyes the color of violets came to bear upon him.
“May I help you? Miss?” His nerves were jangling as the small details that weren’t meshing began to press into his awareness. She’s still wearing her gloves. And—are those pieces of baggage?
“Dr. West! I am pleased to, at last, make your acquaintance. It’s Renshaw. Gayle Renshaw.”
Except she didn’t look pleased.
From Rowan’s vantage, she looked as if she wasn’t entirely sure that she was in the right house or that he was the right Dr. West. She was openly assessing him, and he couldn’t help but feel that he was falling short in her measurements.
Gayle Renshaw. Renshaw. That sounds vaguely familiar but I’m sure I’d have remembered this woman—even if I do have a ripping migraine.
He nodded but didn’t drop his gaze. God help him, he didn’t think he could stop staring at her under the very threat of death. I think I’ll just cling to what protocol I can, since I’m not sure what one says to women who come calling with luggage. “While I’m always pleased at new referrals, I find I’m at a bit of a loss. It’s late for a call, but if there was some emergency—”
She shook her head, her brow furrowing a bit as if his words frustrated her.
Rowan took a deep breath and tried again. “I apologize if I’ve misunderstood, but Carter was sure you needed assistance in some way, and I assumed . . .”
“No need to apologize, Dr. West. I’ve come without a word of warning, but when I received your favorable response to my letter, I decided that there was no time like the present to commence.”
“Your letter?” Renshaw. No, it wasn’t possible! “I responded after I’d received a letter from a Mr. G. L. Renshaw but—”
“No, you received a letter from me inquiring about an apprenticeship.” She put one gloved hand into the deep pocket of her skirts and pulled out the folded vellum of his response. “You were very candid in your need for an extra pair of hands.”
“I may have been, but I was under the impression that you were . . . male.”
Her spine stiffened and the color in her cheeks changed to betray that the lady may not be as coolly disconnected as she’d pretended. “An intentional deception I’m not proud of, but an unimportant detail for a man of your character. You set a price and I’ve come with my apprentice’s fee in hand.”
Rowan was sure he’d misheard her. “I beg your pardon? You confess to fraud, yet expect me to happily ignore it and enter into some kind of insane contract?”
“You do take apprentices, do you not?”
Ah, here’s a moment of surreal departures in conversation. . . . “I have in the past, but—”
“I mean to become a physician, Dr. West, and I have come with the sole purpose of securing an apprenticeship with you. I have heard much of you, and while I realize that this arrangement is somewhat unconventional, I was sure you’d agree.”
He shook his head slowly, the dreamlike elements of the encounter getting the better of him. “Did you just say you’d heard much of me? How is it that I am famous enough to warrant this absurd petition?”
“There is nothing absurd about seeking to be a physician!”
Rowan put a hand over his eyes, pressing gently against his eyelids to ease the ache. “I’m sure I never said there was, but meant to describe this particular instance. It’s late, Miss Renshaw.”
“If I’d meant to commit fraud, I’d have completed the negotiations by letter and sent payment in advance of my arrival, Dr. West. But I’d convinced myself that you were open-minded enough to respect a more direct approach.” She put his letter back into her pocket, as if to prevent him from taking it from her.
“You are nothing if not direct, Miss Renshaw.” He walked over to the side bar and poured himself a muchneeded drink. “Let’s try again.”
“Yes, once more.” She sat back down as calmly as if he’d asked her to tea. “Once I’ve completed a successful apprenticeship, I am hopeful that a university will have difficulty arguing against my qualifications. Naturally, an apprenticeship with a country doctor would be easier to obtain, but just as easy to disregard. But as you are a London man, certified by the Royal Academy and a graduate of Oxford, they may take my training and dedication more seriously, and since I have no intention of allowing them to dismiss me simply because I’m a woman—it seemed a good plan.”
It seemed a good plan.
A part of his brain was actually in agreement, chiming in that if you ignored reality and the horrible power of entrenched old men and traditional thinking, the lovely bird might have a chance. But reason intervened as the throb behind his eyes began to keep pace with an ache in his neck. Damn it, what was it she was saying before? “Miss Renshaw, what exactly have you heard that would convince you of my open-mindedness?”
“I came from Standish Crossing.”
There’s a cold wind from my past. Damn! A single winter spent in Standish Crossing and I’ll be an old man before I’m allowed to forget it. “And there’s talk in the village, is there, of my secret desire to take on a female apprentice?”
“I don’t think you’d enjoy hearing any of it repeated, Dr. West. Suffice it to say, I understood you weren’t afraid to break the rules.”
He took a long sip of brandy before he answered her. “Really? I can’t imagine being described in those terms. You misunderstood the gossips, Miss Renshaw, and have traveled a long way for nothing.”
She didn’t move, and for a moment, Rowan wondered if she’d heard him. But then she replied as she casually readjusted her gloves and smoothed out her skirts, and he almost dropped the glass in his hands.
“An odd thing about gossip, Dr. West. It can travel long distances with a single whisper. Refreshing to think that no one in London seems to have heard anything of your life in the village, wouldn’t you agree?”
I don’t care how beautiful you are, Miss Renshaw—you vicious little thing! “Are you attempting some subtle threat to my reputation?”
“Not at all. There was nothing subtle about it. But let me start again, Dr. West. What I propose is mutually beneficial. You need help and I am bound and determined to do whatever it takes to gain the knowledge and experience I need to become a true physician. I have the money and the means. My gender is irrelevant, but no one else will even talk to me on the subject.... When I learned certain details of your past from an involved source, I seized on the chance. It occurred to me that a man of your skill, with a reputation to protect, might be willing to risk bending the rules once you knew how set on this I am.”
“It’s one o’clock in the morning, Miss Renshaw.”
“Perhaps you should have your man show me to my room, then?” She stood up and bent down to retrieve her bags. “We ca
n come to terms in the morning.”
We could if you weren’t insane.
“By morning, your reputation is forfeit, Miss Renshaw.”
“My reputation is already forfeit, Dr. West. I have traveled unescorted into Town and called on an unmarried man at an inappropriate hour, and whatever you think, I am none the worse for it.” She waved off the matter as if it were of no consequence. “But I agree that it’s far too late to worry about the finer points of my current social standing. My room?”
“I’m agreeing to nothing, Miss Renshaw, but I honestly don’t think I have the strength to debate your ethics or lack of them until I’ve gotten a few hours of sleep. This headache is crippling my ability to reason.” He set down his glass and walked to the door to open it and signal the waiting Carter.
“Have you tried feverfew with an infusion of rosemary? I prefer ginger, myself.”
Rowan turned back to look at her, a bit surprised. “That was too easy. Any housewife would say the same. Have you a remedy for kidney stones?”
She hesitated for a single breath before answering coldly, “Cinnamon. Or celery seed and stone root. But if the pain is acute, perhaps corn silk. I know the use of herbs is deemed quaint, but I was a quick study of the apothecary in the village—at least, when the man wasn’t looking.”
Carter appeared before he could think of a ready response, and Rowan decided he’d had enough for one night. “Carter, show Miss Renshaw to the first-floor guest room, if you please, and let Mrs. Evans know of her presence so that a breakfast can be provided before she leaves us.”
“I’m not leaving, Dr. West.”
Carter gave him a look of alarm at the protest, but Rowan held up a hand to smooth his butler’s ruffled feathers. “That’s to be determined, Miss Renshaw. We’ll talk more in the morning and see if we can’t reach a compromise or if I’m better at holding my ground when I’m not exhausted and in agony. But if you change your mind in the next few hours and come to your senses, I wouldn’t wish to see you return home on an empty stomach.”
A nice hearty breakfast and a nice debate about your sanity, and you’ll voluntarily march back to Standish Crossing—because whatever lies you’ve heard, I’m not going to let you dictate anything to me.
Carter cleared his throat. “This way, miss.” He held out a hand for her suitcase, but Rowan stopped him.
“Miss Renshaw prefers to carry her own things, Carter. She is a forward-thinking creature who would probably claim insult.”
The color on her cheeks returned at the petty gesture, but she didn’t argue as she readjusted the apparently heavy leather satchels to carry them more easily. “Thank you, Dr. West.”
“Good night, Miss Renshaw.”
He watched her ascend the stairs, as graceful as a duchess despite the awkward load she carried, and he marveled that anyone could be that beautiful and still manage to make a man dedicated to healing consider poisoning her poached eggs in the morning.
Carter made brisk work of seeing her to the guest room, openly rattled by her disregard for the rules of decency and decorum. “There’s no coal, as we weren’t expecting anyone, but if you insist, I can have some brought up to warm the room.”
“That won’t be necessary, Carter. I have no desire to impose on the staff any more than I already have. The room is lovely, and only a simpleton would think to complain about its comforts.” She set her bags down at the foot of the bed, careful not to groan at the relief in her shoulders. “Thank you.”
The compliment did its work, and Carter bowed briefly and retreated with a minimal amount of grumbling under his breath about houseguests in the middle of the night and misguided ladies.
Once the door closed behind him, she sat on the edge of the bed with a shaky sigh. It had worked. She’d brazened her way into his home and made her first arguments toward convincing him to take her on as an apprentice. Her impulsive plan had carried her along on the journey and her daydreams of easy success had bolstered her spirits—until she’d actually found herself sitting in his parlor.
The mail coach had arrived later than she’d anticipated, and by the time she’d reached his brownstone, Gayle had been shaking with nerves. The brilliant proposals she’d crafted to dazzle him into agreement in the afternoon light sounded like nothing short of bedlam after dark.
His poor butler had borne the brunt of her unorthodox invasion, and amidst other things occupying her thoughts in the long hours of waiting, she’d begun to prepare arguments to spare the man just in case his employer proved to be an unreasonable man and threatened his butler’s livelihood.
But Dr. Rowan West had been nothing she’d anticipated.
The brilliant demon that her aunt had cursed and spit vague invectives over for the last year had seemed the perfect candidate for her plans. What difference would it make to a man like that if he had a unique apprentice? And if his reputation were bruised slightly, who would care? There had been a twisted justice to making a villain play the role of her savior and become the means to her noble end of becoming one of the first female physicians in England.
She would turn the tragedy of her family’s past into triumph, and the evil man who had played a part in her cousin’s death would provide her with the tools she needed.
Except he hadn’t looked very evil.
Nothing like a demon, at all.
She’d overheard her aunt, Mrs. Jane Hamilton, say that the doctor was far too old for her delicate daughter, Charlotte, and that only a colder soul could have destroyed such a tender young flower without a single backward glance. Mrs. Hamilton had then lowered her voice, and Gayle wasn’t sure about the method of destruction, but the point was made.
“Why did you allow the engagement, then?” Mrs. Smythe had asked over her teacup.
“Because he has an unparalleled reputation as a physician, of course! My brother assured me he had a future ahead of him and had inherited a fashionable practice in London that would give my little nightingale nothing but the best that life had to offer! If only I’d known what a vile, vile heart could hide behind such talent! To destroy my darling and skip off without a nod!” Aunt Jane had cried.
And suddenly the daring plan had taken shape.
All her inquiries to the physicians in her aunt’s acquaintance had been firmly rejected and, worse, had alerted Mrs. Jane Hamilton to the strange designs of her wayward charge. She’d spent weeks locked in the house afterward and learned that the direct approach was going to end her up in bedlam.
So when the specter of Dr. Rowan West was invoked, the solution was simple. If a good man who was a doctor was too worried about his social standing to take on a female assistant, then a bad man who was a very good doctor might not even blink. And if he did balk, well, he wouldn’t want the world to know just how evil he was—and if she could be ruthless, she would possess the lever to move her own world.
In Gayle’s imagination, Dr. Rowan West had taken shape as a wicked genius who would do anything to further his practice—or protect it. She would make a generous offer from her inheritance to acquire a position in his service, and with hard work and study, she would receive her own certifications and take London by storm as one of the first women to venture into the medical profession.
But where was the vile man she’d envisioned? Gayle wondered. Where was the pockmarked, icy soul who would growl about ethics, but bend to greed at the promise of her money?
The real Dr. Rowan West was a man to be reckoned with, well seated in his prime and radiating masculine power and authority. There was nothing wizened about him, and even exhausted and in pain, his gaze radiated experience and intelligence. He hadn’t shouted or threatened to throw her out. He hadn’t even chastised his butler for allowing her to wait. Instead, he’d appeared to be every inch the gentleman, even expressing concern for her reputation and well-being.
Worst of all, Dr. Rowan West was a bit too handsome for a woman to recall contempt and keep her wits about her.
She pushed a
way the sensation instantly.
How am I to prove that a woman has the disciplined mind necessary to become a doctor if I turn into a giggling pool of idiocy the first time I see my teacher’s rugged good looks? Who cares if the man has broad shoulders or if he’s tall? He’s a skilled physician and possesses what I need to move forward. Who’s to say the devil wasn’t the most attractive angel of all before he revealed his wicked heart and fell from heaven?
Gayle nodded, letting out a longer sigh as her hands finally stopped shaking, although the tears came at last. Quiet trails slipped down her cheeks and betrayed her true nature. Gayle retrieved her handkerchief from her reticule and purposefully wiped her eyes. She had the tiger by the tail and couldn’t let her conscience weaken her grip now. She had hinted that not even blackmail was beneath her, and there would be no backing down.
If Dr. Rowan West was half the villain her aunt believed him to be, then there was nothing unjustified in pressing him into this contract against his will. She didn’t require him to be a decent human being. She just needed a decent teacher.
And if he hated her for it, so be it.
She only prayed that she didn’t end up hating herself as well.
Chapter 2
By dawn, she had unpacked her dresses, organized her things, and even polished all her shoes. She’d brought only what she considered her most practical clothes, though Gayle’s vanity didn’t preclude that a practical and professional wardrobe should not also be as flattering and fashionable as possible. It was London, after all! Whatever obstacles and prejudice she was going to face, she’d decided that no one was going to look down on her and mistake her for a woman without means or proper feminine sensibilities.
He’d failed to appear for breakfast, but Gayle wasn’t going to retreat. She ignored the pinched looks from Mrs. Evans, his housekeeper, and ate alone in the small downstairs dining room. Her nervousness had returned in full force, but she did her best to hide it behind a façade of complete confidence that there was nothing out of the ordinary in an unmarried woman arriving unannounced and inviting herself to stay.
Ecstasy Wears Emeralds Page 2
