Ecstasy Wears Emeralds (4 page)

Because the worst was surely to come. The argument they'd begun last night was hardly finished, and conscience or no, Gayle was determined to use every cruel weapon in her arsenal until he agreed to take on her education.

Carter came into the room and made a quick bow. “Dr. West should be down in a few minutes. You can wait in the library next to the salon, but I must ask you not to wander the house, Miss Renshaw.”

“Of course not.” She folded her napkin and followed him to the library, hiding her trembling hands in the pockets of her morning dress. “Thank you, Carter.”

The butler left her without another word, clearly unwilling to align himself too closely with a guest whose status was yet to be determined. She smiled as she began to circle the room to assess the doctor's library selections, happy to be distracted from the impending meeting that would decide her fate.

The books ranged from literary classics to an astonishing selection of rare texts from Italy. Her Latin was passable enough to discern that his collection included tomes on ancient poultices and surgery in the field of war.

The long, slender blades of her fingers traced the spines of the medical reference books she found as she was silently admiring the wealth of knowledge beneath her touch. She pulled a volume on the study of human anatomy and opened it to a detailed plate on the musculature of a corpse. The color drawing was fascinating, offering a glimpse of what lay beneath the skin and powered human movement.

“Enjoying a quick study of the mechanics of a man, Miss Renshaw?” Rowan appeared behind her as if by magic, startling her as he reflexively reached out to press the book safely back into its slot and out of her hands. “Or were you looking for my weak points?”

“I wasn't able to secure much in the way of medical texts back home. I look forward to studying yours.”

“While I admire your curiosity, and may I say, your perseverance, that may be a bit premature of you.”

“Only if you've already made up your mind to refuse me, Dr. West.” She squared her shoulders. “Have you?”

“I haven't completely made up my mind, but I think that's only because a part of me is still in shock. It was a long day, yesterday, and you . . . were more than a little surprising. Surely you can understand that even if I am the devil himself and dance naked on rooftops without a care for convention, the odds are against you.”

“Why?”

Why?
He'd braced himself for a snippish little argument from her, a squeak of insult or a feminine pout of protest. But this—this cheeky question and the openly defiant look on her face were extremely disarming. Rowan wasn't fooled for an instant into thinking that the impossible Miss Gayle Renshaw was actually awaiting his words of wisdom.
This is where I hang myself.
“There are so many arguments against it, I'm not sure where to begin.”

“Choose one.”

“Where is your family, Miss Renshaw? Are they native to the village of Standish Crossing? I don't remember hearing of the Renshaws when I was visiting there.”

“I have relatives in the village and only just arrived over a year ago after my parents died. But I turned twenty-four a few weeks ago and I came into my trust money, so there is no one in authority over me.”

“Twenty-four is young to have your independence. There is no chance you can convince me that your family had approved of you seeking to train for a profession, miss.” He indicated that they should sit, guiding her to a pair of chairs facing the fireplace. “Who exactly are these relatives, Miss Renshaw? I'm asking because, for some reason, I have a sinking feeling it's very much part of this tangle.”

She had the courtesy to blush. “My aunt is Mrs. Jane Hamilton. Charlotte Hamilton is, or rather,
was
my cousin.”

He looked at his petitioner with new eyes. She'd hinted at blackmail and brought the worst of his past squarely into the room, and had the audacity to look lovely while she did it. Charlotte Hamilton had been his fiancée when he'd left for India, and when he'd received word of her death just after his arrival, he'd been devastated. But the aftermath of her death had involved more guilt and blame than he'd ever dreamt—and Rowan knew that the black brush he'd been smeared with had cemented Miss Renshaw's opinion of his character, like so many others. The question was, how much did she really know and why was she still here?

“My parents never approved of my dreams, but I don't see that that is relevant now. I have my own money, almost eighteen thousand pounds, and it is for me to decide how to dispose of it.”

“You have money enough for a decent dowry and . . .” He was unwilling to blurt out nonsense about how she was too beautiful to be a doctor. “You cannot deny you had marriage prospects aplenty. No woman
chooses
to live the life of a servant spinster. Not if she has a chance at any reasonable alternative.”

“Is independence such a surprising choice? I have the resources to secure my freedom but you seem to think a woman would naturally prefer to be confined. I
choose
to make my life more meaningful than to play the role of one man's wife.”

“Then why not simply be free, as you put it? Why not travel or paint tea cups or buy a racehorse? There are women who spend more days than they like in the sickroom, hovering over their dearest ones—women who dread those hours. But you—you are seeking it out. Their nightmare is your quest.”

“I don't seek out suffering or relish the sickroom, any more than you do.”

“What do you want, Miss Renshaw?”

“I want to know if you had to undergo this kind of scrutiny when you professed a desire to become a doctor.”

He took a deep breath and a new calm overtook him. “Tell me, Miss Renshaw. Tell me why you want to become a physician.”

“My reasons are my own. I'll not reveal them to you for mockery or dissection. You'll either accept me for my skills, by giving me a chance to demonstrate them, or not.”

“And your threats from last night? Should I include them in my decision making or dismiss them as the idle rant of a desperate child bent on getting her way?”

She lifted her chin defiantly but said nothing.

Rowan also held his ground. “I'll dismiss your threats for now and confess that if I had had a fortune and an absence of family, I would have been sorely tempted to seek another life. It's not a calling for everyone. No matter how lofty my professional goals may be to heal the sick or make some grand discovery, it's still a trade. There's not a peer in the land that doesn't put me in the same column as their solicitor or their gardener. I'm a glorified servant, Miss Renshaw.”

“It is a calling for me.”

“You're too fair and too young to heed such a calling.”

“My reasons are as sound as yours. It's not as if you're some lifeless old prune! Or do you really view it as just a trade, Dr. West? Is it profit alone that drives you so that you're incapable of imagining why anyone would want this?”

“You cut me to the quick. But why don't we set aside the fact that this course of action will destroy your chances for a decent match? I'll even try to set aside the distinct possibility that Mrs. Hamilton has even now called for the guard and declared me a criminal for engineering your presence on my doorstep—”

She interrupted him. “Aunt Jane has no idea that I've sought you out!”

“Where, precisely, does Mrs. Hamilton believe you to be?”

She hesitated, finally displaying a bit of uncertainty that made him wonder what else she was keeping from him. “I may have led her to believe that I was determined to make a tour of the Continent to gain a bit of worldly polish before agreeing to marriage.”

“Alone?”

She crossed her arms defensively but said nothing.

“Shopping for an imaginary trousseau, are we? Did you remember your invisible chaperone and send Mrs. Hamilton a pretend itinerary?”

The look she gave him was pure disdain. “I could correct her misconceptions about my travels, but I don't see the advantage. Besides, weren't you saying something about setting aside an argument based on Mrs. Hamilton's potential alarm at my departure? Or was that the last of your protests and you were going to agree to take me on?”

“Frankly, Miss Renshaw, medicine is not for the faint of heart. There are . . . indelicate subjects a physician must be familiar with that a lady can't . . .” He tried again, hoping the moral high ground wasn't about to give way beneath his feet. “Society's rules of etiquette and decency dictate that you maintain a certain ignorance when it comes to the human condition.” Even as he said it, the words sounded pompous and inane in his ears.

“How is that possible?” she asked, completely nonplussed.

He couldn't even muster the energy to answer her.

She recrossed her arms, shifting her stance defiantly. “Women bear the brunt of childbirth, do they not? A most
indelicate
experience, by all accounts, and yet you would prefer to believe that we are blithely, as a gender, oblivious to life's messier and more painful aspects? How exactly does society expect me to shield myself from the human condition—whether I'm a doctor or a milkmaid?”

“Good question. But I'm sure that since women commonly faint at the very prospect of seeing blood, it's hard for most men to imagine them drawing it out of a patient or cutting into the flesh to withdraw a tumor or remove a limb. Ideally, you are seen as the weaker vessel and—”

“I have never fainted, Dr. West, and I see no reason to wobble at the mechanisms or fluids that sustain a human being's existence. Do not make the mistake of describing
me
as a weak vessel or a fragile angel! I'll not—” She stopped herself, as if the very passion of the argument that overtook her was now the greater threat. She turned her back on him, openly fighting for composure before she turned around again, the icy mask back in place. “If you can bear a thing, I don't see that I am any less capable of bearing the same! I am less experienced, granted, but
not
less capable.”

“That's a claim you cannot make so confidently, Miss Renshaw. You haven't been exposed to the worst.”

“Precisely! I haven't been exposed to anything! And until you stop lecturing and agree to give me the chance, then we can bark at each other from now until the end of time and you'll never know what I can do!” She pressed her lips together, and Rowan wished she hadn't. The simple gesture was a distraction that drew his attention to her full pink lips just when he needed his wits most. Thankfully, she didn't notice and continued speaking. “If you mean to be right in this argument, Dr. West, then you will have to prove me wrong.”

“I cannot believe I'm saying this, Miss Renshaw, but it seems I am going to have to prove that you are wrong and accept this insane proposal of yours.”

For a single second, her mouth fell open in shocked surprise before she caught herself and gave him a wary look of suspicion. “You're accepting me? Just like that?”

“What do you mean
just like that
? You've almost browbeaten me into another headache, woman. It's either bend to your arguments and take you on as an apprentice, or toss you out kicking and screaming onto my doorstep, and truthfully, I cannot have insane women throwing fits on my steps. It is very bad for business and almost impossible to explain to my neighbors.”

Suspicion flowed into warm gratitude that melted the ice in her violet eyes, and when she smiled, Rowan had to remind himself to breathe. His new apprentice's charms were undeniable, but only a fool would forget that desire in this instance was tantamount to suicide.

“Thank you, Dr. West! You won't regret this decision! I won't disappoint y—”

“Wait! Since we've established that I do in fact care about my reputation, we proceed only so long as you are discreet about the arrangement. No grand announcements of your training and no formal titles given until I give the word.”

“And what should I tell people when asked why I reside in your home or why I am here?”

“You can tell them that you are assisting me or learning to be a nurse.”

She hesitated and he could almost hear the wheels in her beautiful head grinding out the details of his request and digesting its meaning. “Is that what you will tell people?”

“Probably. Beyond a very few close friends and my household staff, the fewer people aware of our true arrangement the better for you. After all, word will spread like wildfire if you're foolish enough to fan about the existence of a woman attempting to become a doctor—a fire hot enough to draw the attention of your aunt in Standish Crossing, and then where will you be?”