“I am not accustomed to being called a liar,” he said stiffly.
“Then you shouldn’t lie.” She didn’t even miss a beat.
“Who are you? Were you here last night?”
Delicate brows arched as if affronted by his direct demand.
She moved into the main room. “You are Mr. Thurlowe? The physician?” She stopped some five feet from him. He caught the scent of her. It reminded him of a fragrant, potent tea. One that was a treat for the senses.Hissenses.
It took all his power to stand his ground. “You have the advantage of me. Have we met?”
“My uncle Andrew told me about you. He admired you, sir.”
Ned ignored the compliment. “You don’t sound Scottish.” Old Andy had never lost the hint of his homeland.
She smiled. “I’m half Scot. I grew up in Manchester, where my father had business interests. I spent my summers in Glasgow.” She held out a gloved hand. “I am Gemma Estep. Andrew MacMhuirich left The Garland to me. I am pleased to meet you, sir. I am a healer myself.”
Andy had left the tavern to her?
Perhaps if Ned hadn’t been so drink-bit, he could have accepted the news with more grace. As it was, he spoke his thoughts aloud. “If this isn’t a curse, I don’t know what is.” She claimed ownership of The Garland and the title of a “healer.” Awoman? He laughed, the sound without mirth, too late realizing she’d offered her hand and he hadn’t touched it.
Her hand dropped before he could make amends. “Did you find something I said amusing, Mr. Thurlowe?”
“Just everything,” he answered candidly. “The first being your claim to the power ofhealing. That is a bald statement, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t say I had powers—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Miss—”
“Mrs.,” she corrected firmly.
“Ah,Mrs.Estep.” She was married. Of course. That was the jolt he needed. He could school his battered senses now.
“Well, Mrs. Estep, I’ve known manyhealersduring my time here. The English hillsides harbor a host of them. Meddling women who scour the forests for herbs and claimed their treatments for warts to cholera could save lives. Although, how anyone can believe the nonsense they spout defies my understanding.”
Her lips parted in surprise at his insults but then she said briskly, “You sound jaded, sir. Perhaps you haven’t met the right people.”
“Trust me, I have. I’m dumbfounded by what people accept as cures. I’ve dealt with more rotting sliced potatoes placed on jaws for toothache, or feet for warts, or for the healing of open wounds than any man should over a lifetime. Ido not believe that onions cut in half can soak up cholera or that dung packs can be a cure for the French pox,orensure the gender of a baby,orbe a cure for infertility. In fact, I wager the opposite would be true of infertility. The smell was horrendous.”
Cataloging these outrages felt good and let him start a grievance against her. “I’ve been called in to heal the results of concoctions and potions that only the very gullible or the very ill would believe in. They drank them, they rubbed them on their skin,theyhad faith in their powers to heal because they had been administered by people they trusted—healers. Instead,” he said, offering his indictment, “they were poisoned.”
“I don’t offer poisons.”
He ignored her. “And here is the part I don’t understand. Most of the healers appear worse off than their patients. They have hunched backs, sidewise limps, and fingers gnarled from years of digging through the woods for their precious roots, leaves, and berries. Although, I would never classify you as one of them, Mrs. Estep. In fact, with the right clothing, you could pass for a duchess in any ballroom in the land... and do you know, for the first time I understand my father’s ill-fated fascination with my greedy courtesan mother.”
He hadn’t meant to add that last.
It had flowed out of him along with the reminder of how easily women could manipulate situations for their own purpose. Just as ClarissaTaylor had caught him off guard yesterday and forced his hand. Or how the matrons had preyed upon his empathy to offer for her in the beginning.
“Did you just suggest that I am a woman of low reputation?” she asked as if stunned.
“You can see I have strong opinions,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t like him to spout off, but he’d not apologize. He meant every word. She’d be wise to leave Maidenshop now. “You say Old Andy left The Garland to you? In all the time I’ve known him, and Andy and I were close, the man never mentioned any family or the name Estep. In fact, perhaps it would be better if I spoke to your husband?”
“You would have some difficulty, sir. He’s in hell.” Her tone was clipped. “However, with your attitude, I have no doubt the two of you would have rubbed along well. Thank you for not holding back on your opinions, Doctor. Your words are strong, but so am I. You say you were close to my uncle? Then you must know he is rolling in his grave at the current state of his beloved tavern.”
She was right.
That didn’t mean Ned was going to trust her. “Well, he has been rolling in his grave for months without a word from you.”
