“Exitus acta probat,” she repeated, and noticed this time that he was a little steadier. “If Lady Westford heard about someone conducting unorthodox medical tests, I can see where that would put her in a difficult position. She believed in advancing science, trying to find cures. Her sister died from typhus. If an experiment showed promise in curing that disease, even if there was a fatality, she might wonder if the end justified the means.”
She paused. When Goldsten said nothing, she continued, “Dr. Thornton probably thought the same. He lost his wife to diabetes. What would he have given to find a cure? What would he overlook? What about you, Mr. Goldsten?”
He gave a small jerk. “What about me?”
“Did you lose someone to a disease that you would have given anything to find a cure for? Is that why you became a doctor?”
“I’m not a physician. I’m a sawbones. And most people—rich and poor—have known someone who has perished from an illness. Humanity is remarkably frail. Whoever discovers cures to the sickness that plague us will not only be honored, they’ll be revered.”
“Even godlike,” Kendra said quietly. “That prospect might be enough to make a person kill anyone who stands in their way.”
He took an unsteady breath. “I must go—”
“You need totalk, Mr. Goldsten.” She stepped forward. “A woman you know, a woman that I think you cared for, maybe even loved, was murdered. She was chased—stalked—up four flights of stairs and thrown over the railing to her death. In her final moments, she would’ve known absolute terror. If you know who did that to her—”
“Idon’t!” The fury erupted, hot enough to scorch. His hand shook so badly that brandy threatened to spill out of his glass. He set it down and then turned back to her, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. “You don’t know what you ask of me!”
“I’m asking for the truth.”
“You’re asking me to destroy my life!” He pointed to the drawing room’s closed door. “Do you think it’s easy for me, a Jew, to be accepted in there? I set my clinic up in the stews because those men don’t care what I am when I’m removing balls of lead from their flesh or mending their broken bones. I’ve fought hard to practice medicine in London, much less at St. George’s. I will—”
“Not get justice for Lady Westford, apparently,” Kendra snapped, cutting him off. He flinched as though she’d slapped him. “You pay a heavy price, Mr. Goldsten, for keeping secrets.”
“I don’t know who killed her!” he hissed, nostrils flaring. “I swear, I don’t. I thought she’d killed herself. She’d seen—” He stopped suddenly and glanced uneasily at the door.
“What did she see? What do youknow?” Kendra pressed.
Emotions, too fast to decipher, flickered across his face.
“Lady Westford isn’t the only victim,” she reminded him softly. “Thornton and Jenny are dead too. Not to mention the patients being treated. How many more people are going to die because you kept silent, Mr. Goldsten?”
Kendra could see him waver and felt a moment of triumph. Then the door to the drawing room opened, and Burnell, Dawes, and Beane poured out. They stopped in surprise when they saw Kendra and Goldsten in the hallway.
“Continuing your inquiries, my lady?” Burnell wondered.
Kendra didn’t answer him. Instead, she asked, “You’re leaving? It’s a little early, isn’t it?”
“I can’t speak for these young bucks, but my day begins early tomorrow. Good evening, my lady.” His expression was unreadable as he looked to the surgeon opposite her. “Mr. Goldsten.”
The two apprentices muttered their goodbyes, as well, and hurried to catch up with Burnell. Dawes and Beane both cast curious glances over their shoulders, but Burnell never looked back.
Kendra waited for them to disappear from view before saying, “Mr. Goldsten—”
“I can’t speak to you here.” He licked his lips uneasily. “Tomorrow. Can you come to my clinic tomorrow morning? Or we could meet—”
“No. I’ll come.” She kept her tone neutral. “What time?”
“Ten o’clock?”
The inquest was scheduled for nine, but she didn’t dare try to negotiate for a later time. She could tell that Goldsten was already regretting their appointment. “I’ll be there. Thank you, Mr. Goldsten.”
A muscle in his cheek jerked, and he looked as if he was going to say something. But in the end, he simply shook his head, turning to walk down the hallway.
Chapter 32
Kendra woke early the next morning. She cycled through her yoga routine as the sun—a rare sight—streamed through the bedchamber windows while Alec left for his morning ride.
Life was about patterns. She and Alec were finding their own, as they built their life together. There were a few bumps (Bear came to mind), but overall it felt good. Damn good.
