“Mae is forgetting,” Dr. Casper said, in a tone like he was about to soothe this new knowledge, “sometimes these procedures are performed in a surgical theater with a large audience for purposes of demonstration. Often without bothering with expensive extras like pain-killing medicines or sedatives. It is, I’m afraid, an absolutely integral part of modern medicine.”
“Neither of you know about this because you’ve never been at risk of having it done to you,” Mae said, wincing. “But I’d wagerif you go ask the patients in the waiting area right now, several of them can tell you more in great detail. That is why they come here instead of going somewhere fancier and better known. They know I’m not going to do that to them.”
“Yes,” said Dr. Casper, blinking. “They know you’re not going to do that to them. Everyone knows that now, thanks to Rosalind’s fame and Ezra’s quill. The influx of learning cases that the nearby hospitals have relied on, especially right now, during the High Season, when many visiting medical professionals and hobbyists are in London, has been so punctured by our clinic that we’ve had to hire not one, buttwonew doctors, Mae.”
Mae breathed out, reaching out to steady herself against the wall. For a moment, her vision swam.
“They aren’t going to stop at inspections and audits,” Ezra said, so that Mae would not have to.
“Probably not,” agreed Dr. Casper. “We’ve already started to prepare for this, of course. It’s why we brought on the new doctors, so that Mae would not be in danger of accusations of malpractice nor I of fraud, but I’m afraid it is likely only the beginning. The Season has only just begun.”
“So,” said Rosalind, her fingertips touching her cheeks. “What now? What else do we do now?”
Dr. Casper sighed, glancing at Mae. “That is the question. Isn’t it?”
Mae could only nod.
She did not have an answer.
CHAPTER 2
Roland Reed had built a career around mitigating threats in dangerous environments, but tonight, the only thing giving him pause was a glinting silver thimble sitting innocuously on the bar of the Tod and Vixen.
It was positioned between the gambling hell’s owner, Thaddeus Beck, and his sister Vix, whose manicured index finger was planted on the thimble’s domed head as she conspired some manner of low-spoken wickedness with her brother, occasionally darting her dark eyes over to where Roland stood with a smirk and a raise of her arched brows.
She’d been lording that stupid thing around for months now but hadn’t yet put it to use.
When, God, was she going to just get it over with?
He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of pulling a face or crossing his arms. He shouldn’t have even made eye contact. She’d feast on that for the next hour at least. He silently rebuked himself for the misstep and began to scan the room, taking in the earlypatrons of the establishment as they settled into their favored tables and ordered their particular drinks.
It was only on the returning swivel of his head that his gaze met his employer’s and he was summoned over into their company.
And the bloody thimble’s.
He did not sigh.
Which is to say, he did not sigh in an audible or visible way.
The Beck siblings looked up as he crossed the room, a certain smugness radiating from them as he drew near.
“I’ve just come from Clerkenwell,” Vix said by way of greeting. “Well, by way of Clerkenwell. I went home first. I’ve a baby, you know. I wanted to see him, even though Ambrose dotes more than the nursemaid and I’m barely needed. Anyway, I came here straight after that. There have been some distressing developments at the clinic of late. Isn’t that right, Teddy?”
Her brother frowned. “Hannah has said the same,” he agreed, craning his neck from one side to the other. “It seems like all the press and attention has had both beneficial outcomes and some negative ones as well.”
“Isn’t that always the way of things?” Roland said, raising his brows. “What’s it got to do with me?”
“Oh, Roland,” Vix purred, tipping the thimble onto its side with a little clack so that his eyes would be drawn down to it. “I’m so glad you asked.”
This time he did sigh. Both audibly and visibly.
The thimble was a relic of their childhood, a game of dares that by no account should have survived this far into adulthood.Whomsoever held the thimble had the ultimate power to dare any of the others—in this case, Roland himself, Vix and Tod Beck, and their friend Matthew, who was now a vicar andstillsomehow not exempt from this nonsense—anything at all, and it must be done.
The reward, of course, was that the one forced into doing the dare now got the thimble, and so the cycle could continue.
Vix had won the thing from Matthew back in the autumn and had made it exceedingly clear on multiple occasions that she was only biding her time until she found the exact and perfect way to deploy it against Roland, specifically, for purposes of matchmaking.
Somehow, she’d gotten it into her wicked head that he was besotted with her friend the healer, Mae Casper.
