“And not one that I make lightly, but what else could it be?”
“Even still, what was your plan if it were true? Confront him on the spot?” he asked, his hand going through his short hair, as if trying to calm himself.
“I wanted to see where he was going.”
“You can’t go gallivanting around Glasgow, particularly Gallowgate. It’s dangerous. Filled with ruthless thugs, murderers, women of ill repute—”
“Your patients,” she interrupted, cutting him off. “And I was not gallivanting. I was merely trying to discover why Mr. Roberts was paying two men who happen to be covered in dirt.”
“It was irresponsible.”
“It was fine.”
James’s nostrils flared as he glared at her as the carriage swayed from left to right before turning one last time before coming to a stop. Grace was quick to exit the vehicle without so much as a “good day” as the rain came down in sheets, heavier than before, as she trudged up the stone steps to the front door. To her surprise, however, James’s form cut in front of her, and upon opening the door for her, all but pushed her inside.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not finished speaking with you,” he snapped, before glaring up at the ceiling above. “Lady Belle! Where are you?”
“What are you going to do? Tell on me?”
“Exactly that. It seems no one can get through to you except that woman and if I must use her as a speaking point to get it through to you just how grievous your accusations are, then I will.” He stalked about the foyer. “Belle!”
“She isn’t here,” Grace said with a great amount of satisfaction.
“Where is she?”
“Visiting the baroness with Arabella.”
He turned.
“And your staff?”
“She gave them the day off, as no one was here and they had plans not to return tonight.”
“She left you all alone? In this city without even a skeleton staff?”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“For the love of Christ, what is wrong with you women?” he bellowed suddenly, causing Grace to close her mouth. He took a step toward her and instinctively, Grace stepped back. “Are you all mad? Is it some inheritable trait?”
“Now see here—”
“I will not. You are stubborn and capable and brilliant, Grace Sharpe, but you are also willfully ignorant and double foolish,” he snapped, glowering down at her. “Thank whatever deity you’d like that I saw you in front of that building before something happened. You could have been snatched up in a moment and no one would have seen you.”
“I’m not a child, James. There’s no use in trying to frighten me with tales of bad men in dark alleys—”
But in the next moment she found herself locked in his strong arms.
“I’m not trying to scare you; I’m trying to make you see the facts. Have you any idea what one of those men might have done to you if they decided to take you?”
Grace’s eyes were wide, frozen partially by the fact that his mouth was mere inches away from hers. His gaze dropped for a moment; his lips parted as he watched her. The beating of her heart was so loud that she was sure he could hear it as she waited for what, she did not know.
She barely shook her head.
“No.”
“No,” he repeated, his forceful tone now raspy. “No, you don’t. How can you? You barely understand your own urges, let alone those of men.”
