Grace gazed at her aunt.
“You said that?”
“Only because it was a very dull and obvious opera,” Aunt Belle said quickly, though a slight blush rose in her wrinkled cheeks. “So much so that we decided to leave a little early. I loathe when plays and musicales have such apparent plots.”
“I like it,” Arabella chimed in. “Especially when it’s a romance. Tragedies, however, can be as unpredictable as possible.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Grace was only partially listening to the two discuss what made for a good story, while her thoughts lingered back to the way she had reacted to James’s kiss. Never in her life had she believed that she could respond to anyone the way she had to him. Of course, her only comparison was Lord Bartley, but she had been so utterly uncharmed by the man, not to mention the fact that she hadn’t ever felt strongly about anyone her entire life. For the better part of her adult life, Grace had felt different from her sisters and the majority of society. She had never entertained the idea of companionship because she had never been able to form the sort of feelings that other people seemed to be able to do. Her aunt and sisters had all loved and loved deeply, to the point where Grace had felt a fragmented sort of jealousy, for how could she be envious of something she didn’t understand? And she still wasn’t quite sure what she wassupposed to feel, but that kiss had awakened something she had never realized was within her.
Desire.
It was the oddest feeling when she realized exactly what she was feeling. She desired James. She wanted to be near him, to graze his beard with her fingertips, to press her body against his and feel—
Goodness. No, she couldn’t do that. She was incompatible. Wasn’t she? And surely, there might be a logical way to understand why her pulse increased whenever he was close, or why her skin would tingle if he should accidentally brush against her arm or hand.
Perhaps I might take notes on when and why I react the way I do. Yes. That seemed a practical thing to do. She would document her reactions and see if there was a way to map it out somehow, so that she might learn to understand it better.
Later that night, as she got ready for bed, Grace wondered if she might attempt a sort of experiment, to see if she would always respond the same way, or maybe if it was a temporary phenomenon.
For the rest of the evening, Grace lay awake in bed, unable to think of anything else and she wondered if perhaps she might settle her growing desires by tackling the entire event as a scientific experiment. By definition, a scientific experiment was a series of steps within a controlled environment that would lead to a hypothesis. What exactly she was hoping to learn, she wasn’t sure, but there was obviously some sort of physical reaction shared by the two of them and ever being the curious mind, Grace wanted to test it further. Perhaps she would only enjoy kissing and nothing more. Or maybe, it was that she was only attracted to men of a certain height? But then that didn’t quite make sense to her. Mr. Milton was just as tall as Dr. Hall. Maybeshe only liked men with facial hair? But that couldn’t be true either, as Lord Bartley also had a mustache.
No, there was something about James in particular that caused Grace to react in a chemical way and she intended to find out why.
By the time she arrived at the pharmacy office the following morning, Grace had decided to explain her planned experiment to the doctor, having rehearsed what she was going to say in her mind all morning, but upon stepping out of the carriage, a paperboy on the far corner of the street shouted and distracted her.
“Three more missing in Gallowgate! Gates go up around Glasgow Necropolis to fend off grave robbers! Hear all about it!”
Grace frowned as a voice spoke behind her.
“G’morning, Dr. Grace,” Virgil said, causing her to jump. “Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t,” she lied, peering over her shoulder. “I was just listening to that paperboy. It seems more people have gone missing in Gallowgate.”
“Aye, someone is always missing in Gallowgate,” Virgil said as he opened the front door, allowing Grace to enter before him. He followed her inside. “It’s where a lot of people go to be forgotten as it were.”
“Forgotten? But why?”
He shrugged as he hobbled around the glass display case.
“A number of reasons, really. Debt, crimes, the drink.” Virgil shook his head. “It’s not quite where respectable people live, you know.”
“That’s nonsense. Any place people live can be respectable, regardless of their means.”
“Were that it was true, Dr. Grace. But the people in Gallowgate aren’t exactly shining members of society.”
“A lot of them are factory workers and their families. The very people who produce products for our consumption, Virgil. It is a mark against the company if they cannot provide decent housing and wages for the people who make the owners rich.”
“Ah, well, now you’re sounding like a Reformist, Dr. Grace. None too many would be pleased to hear you speak like that.”
“They are simply facts.”
“Aye, but some aren’t too keen on hearing truths.”
“And I’m to worry about that because?”
“Well, begging your pardon, but in your line of work, wouldn’t it be smarter to keep on people’s good side? I can’t think it will be easy persuading people to see a lady doctor, and a reformist to boot.”
