“He what?”
Fractious color rose in her face. “He . . . kissed it,” Garrett managed to say, remembering the sight of his dark head bent over her gloved hand. “It was the last thing I expected. That big, blue-eyed ruffian doing something so gentlemanly . . . especially after we’d spent the past two hours grappling and slamming each other all around the fencing room.” A gesture so tender, it had left her stunned and speechless. Even now, the thought of it sent flutters of pleasure and heat through her. It was madness. With all the patients she had examined and operated on, all the people she had held and comforted, nothing had ever felt so intimate as the pressure of his lips on her glove.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” Garrett continued. “I can’t keep from wondering what it would be like if . . .” She couldn’t say the rest of it aloud. She began to fiddle with a tiny sorbet spoon. “I want to see him again,” she confessed.
“Oh, dear,” she heard Helen murmur.
“I don’t know how to reach him.” Garrett slid her a guarded glance. “But your husband does.”
Helen looked uncomfortable. “If Mr. Ransom says he can’t meet with you, I think you should respect his decision.”
“He could visit me on the sly, if he wished,” Garrett pointed out irritably. “The man skulks around London like a stray cat.”
“If he did meet you in secret, where would it lead? Or rather, where would you want it to lead?”
“I’m not sure.” Garrett set aside the sorbet spoon, picked up a fork, and stabbed a strawberry. She used a knife to mince it into miniscule bits. “Obviously Ransom is not an appropriate companion for me. I should put him—and his private parts—completely out of my mind.”
“That might be for the best,” Helen said cautiously.
“Except that I can’t.” Setting down the utensils, Garrett muttered, “I’ve never been ruled by unwanted thoughts or feelings. I’ve always been able to put them away as if they were folded linens in a drawer. What’s the matter with me?”
Helen slid a cool, pale hand over her clenched fist and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You’ve been all work and no play for much too long. And then one night a mysterious and handsome man appears out of the shadows, fending off attackers on your behalf—”
“That part was annoying,” Garrett interrupted. “I was doing quite well at being my own hero until he jumped in.”
Helen’s lips curved. “Still . . . it must have been a little flattering.”
“It was,” Garrett grumbled, taking refuge in examining the plate of tea sandwiches. She selected one filled with a translucent slice of pickled artichoke heart and a sliver of boiled egg. “In fact, it was ridiculous, how dashing he was, all brass and brawn. Only to you would I admit that when I heard his Irish brogue, I nearly began batting my eyelashes and simpering like the ingénue from some second-rate playhouse.”
Helen laughed gently. “There’s something charming about a man with an accent, isn’t there? I know it’s considered a defect—even more so if the accent is Welsh—but to me there’s poetry in it.”
“Nowadays having an Irish brogue is the surest way to have a door slammed in one’s face,” Garrett said darkly. “Which is no doubt why Mr. Ransom conceals it.”
During the past ten years, the political unrest of those who believed in Ireland’s right to govern itself had fueled an atmosphere of growing intolerance. Rumors of conspiracies were everywhere, and the people found it difficult to separate prejudice from reason. Especially, now, after a recent spate of terrorist activities, including a recently foiled attempt on the Prince of Wales’s life.
“The man is neither respectable nor gainfully employed,” Garrett continued. “He’s also sneaky, violent, and apparently as randy as a stoat. I can’t possibly be attracted to him.”
“Attraction isn’t something one chooses,” Helen mused. “It’s a kind of magnetism. An irresistible force.”
“I will not be held hostage by invisible forces.”
Helen regarded her with a sympathetic smile. “This reminds me a bit of what you told me after Pandora was injured in the street attack. You said she’d received a shock to her entire nervous system. I think Mr. Ransom has been a shock to your system. Among other things, I think he’s made you realize that you might be a bit lonely.”
Garrett, who had always taken pride in her self-sufficiency, shot her an indignant glance. “Impossible. How could I be lonely when I have you and my other friends, my father, Dr. Havelock, my patients—”
“I meant a different kind of loneliness.”
Garrett scowled. “I’m not some dewy-eyed girl with a head full of spun sugar. I should hope I’m more high-minded than that.”
“Even a high-minded woman can appreciate a fine pair of . . . what did you call them? Quadriceps?”
One could hardly miss the sly teasing in Helen’s demure tone. Taking refuge in dignified silence, Garrett drained another cup of tea while a waitress came to the table with little glass cups of lemon sorbet.
Helen waited until after the waitress had departed before saying, “Hear me out before you refuse: I want very much to introduce you to my cousin West. He’ll be in town for a fortnight. You didn’t meet him the last time he was here to see Pandora. We’ll all have dinner at Ravenel House one evening.”
“No. I beg you, Helen, do not put me—or your cousin—through such pointless torture.”
“West is very handsome,” Helen persisted. “Dark-haired, blue-eyed, and charming. I’m positive you’ll like each other. After a few minutes in his company, you’ll forget all about Mr. Ransom.”
“Even in the unlikely event that Mr. Ravenel and I formed an attachment, it would never work. I can’t live in the country.” Garrett tried a spoonful of sorbet, letting the tart, sugary frost dissolve into a cold flood on her tongue. “Among other things, I’m afraid of cows.”
“Because of their size?” Helen asked sympathetically.
“No, it’s the way they stare. As if they’re plotting something.”
Helen chuckled. “I promise, when you come to visit Eversby Priory someday, all scheming cows will be kept out of sight. And as far as living in the country is concerned, West may be willing to move back to London. He’s a man of many interests and talents. Oh, do say you’ll at least meet him!”
“I’ll consider it,” Garrett said reluctantly.
“Thank you, that sets my mind at ease.” A new, serious note entered Helen’s voice. “Because I fear there’s a very good reason Mr. Ransom has decided to stay away from you.”
Garrett looked at her alertly. “What is it?”
Helen frowned, seeming to debate something within her mind before continuing. “I know some information about Mr. Ransom. I’m not at liberty to relay all of it, but there’s something you should be made aware of.”
Garrett waited with forced patience while Helen glanced around to make certain no one was approaching the alcove.
“It has to do with that incident at the Guildhall last month,” Helen said softly. “You’ll recall that Pandora and Lord St. Vincent attended the reception.”