“And why are they doing that?” Ravi asked, raising his brows. “When I was a medical student, all I did at night was sleep.”
She glanced back at Roland, inclining her head in a silent plea that he might come closer. “Theyaremedical students?” she said to him. “You’re quite certain?”
He nodded but did not move from where he was propped against the side wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “From St. Bart’s,” he said, his gaze sliding from Mae to Ravi. “The clinic’s success has prevented the usual influx of teaching cases from the spring symposium, which, I have gathered, is preventing them from finishing their studies and being … I don’t know. Knighted or whatever it is for doctors. They are upset about it.”
Mae blinked. It was the most she’d ever heard him say at once, and he wasn’t even looking at her while he was doing it.
“Yes,” she agreed, the word coming out slower than she necessarily intended as she turned her focus back on the other man. “The teaching cases issue is a point of contention, but all the attention has unfortunately unfolded in some other unpleasant ways as well.
“We’ve had many surprise inspections and audits from the establishment to attempt to resolve the matter in a more official capacity, and more recently, quite a lot of press questioning our involvement with Quaker charities and Jewish physicians. That, combined with my own unorthodox background as the de facto head of this operation, has led to a lot of sideways accusations of misconduct. We fear it is only a matter of time before those become more overt or, worse, official.”
“Oh,” said Ravi, who was quiet for a moment as he considered what was said.
Mae frowned at him and glanced once more over her shoulder at Mr. Reed, who looked, if possible, smug?
He pushed himself off the wall and now, at long last, strode forward to stand next to her.
She considered shoving him.
“Well,” said Ravi, looking from Mae to Reed and back again. “Is that the whole of it? They’re prodding around, trying to find something you’re doing wrong and ultimately failing?”
She opened her mouth to argue with this simplification but then paused. “Well, yes,” she said. “For now, anyway.”
“And the pig entrails,” Roland added flatly. “And broken windows and so on. We’ve limewashed the walls in case they try to set them on fire next.”
“Ah, well, that’s sensible,” said Ravi, nodding. “What time do I start tomorrow?”
CHAPTER 8
“Well,” said Mae as soon as the door swung shut behind the new doctor, rounding on Roland where he stood next to the central basin. “That ought to be a nice change of pace for you.”
He blinked at her, not quite certain he’d heard her correctly, or if, indeed, she was speaking to him.
“Pardon?” he managed to say, but she had already turned to the kits and was motioning them toward her, taking the brooms from their hands.
“Go on home,” she told them. “The patrolmen will keep watch tonight. You should all get some sleep. Winston, tell your mum you should stay tomorrow in the ward again. It seems you didn’t catch the bug last time.”
Roland narrowed his eyes, following her as she led the boys to the door and opened it for them, sending them out one by one.
Unless he was very much mistaken, and he wasnot, this woman was furious.
Any doubt to that effect was quickly cleared up by the way she slapped the door shut behind the children once they had crossed the street into darkness.
She spun away from him, jerking at the knot of her apron and yanking it up over her head, accidentally removing the band of cloth wound around her hair with it, letting all those delicate little curls spring up in wild freedom as a result.
“What do you mean,” he managed, utterly baffled, “a nice change of pace for me?”
She flashed her teeth at him, flinging the apron into the hamper with her hair band caught between her fingers. “A direct question? Really, Roland, you forget yourself.”
He stared. What else was he meant to do? Her color had gone up, her cheeks shining and her eyes glinting in the low light of the burned-down candles.
She gave him a slow, venom-tipped smile, those dimples digging into her cheeks as she did. “Now that Dr. Ravi has joined us, you’ll finally have someone around that you respect well enough to speak to directly. It will be a nice change of pace. For you.”
He felt his eyes narrowing before he could spare a thought for controlling his face. He took a step toward her, heat flaring up in his throat. “Respect?” he repeated, very softly, his eyes on those dimples, on that mouth of hers.
“What else would you call it?” she replied, not moving an inch, those dark eyes watching him draw nearer. “If I am in the room, you are determined to never say anything. To never do anything. Unless inescapably compelled, of course. Do not pretend otherwise.”
He gave a quick, humorless little laugh, running his tongue over his teeth and reminding himself of all the places they were sharp. “Which would you like me to do, Mae?” he asked, low and impatient as he took another prowling step forward, watching the way she refused to move. “Say something? Or do something?”
