She hummed her thoughts and asked, “What if the Reverend Summerall had pain? He doesn’t labor any more than the duchess does.”
He saw her trap. He gave a sound of frustration. “I don’t differentiate between my male and female patients. I want to see them all better. However, instead of medicating ailments, I want to see them cured.”
“Except you already said yourself, there are some aches that have nothing to do with disease. They are part of aging and if you can cure that, Mr. Thurlowe, then youaremasterful. My recipe eases pain and works on men as well as women.”
“Why do I believe I’ve just received an advertisement?”
“Why do I believe you will criticize me no matter what I do?”
And she had him.
He frowned and looked away.
“We are not at cross purposes, sir. I might know more than you think I do. Or is your true argument with me based upon my sex? Let me assure you, women have very fine minds.”
“I’m not questioning your intelligence.” He sounded like a stubborn child.
“Yes, you are,” Gemma answered, because she was done with men acting as if she didn’t know her own mind. “And you keep women out of everything interesting, such as your lectures.”
He sliced the air with his hand. “The Logical Men’s Society is not an antifemale society—”
“Then why won’t you admit them?” The question just popped out of her mouth.
A more prudent or certainly diplomatic woman would have held her tongue. Gemma felt she’dspent a lifetime holding her tongue—first with her father, then her uncaring husband.
It wasn’t that she was just done swallowing her thoughts and opinions. It was that she strongly desired speaking her mindtoMr. Thurlowe. He annoyed her, not in an angry way, and not in a completely platonic one, either.
Oh, yes, she was attracted to him.
And here lay madness. He was promised to another woman. He was not for Gemma. She knew that, and still needed to—what? Tweak his nose? Challenge him? Let him know that she was nobody’s fool? Least of allhis?
“I’m not giving up The Garland,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m pinning everything I have on it. So let us reach a truce.”
His brows came together. “Why should I surrender to you when you have no real claim on the building?”
Any conciliatory thought she’d had toward him vanished. She didn’t even like the way he looked right now. “Andrew wasmyuncle and I have my proof.”
“Show it to me or be gone.”
“You would see me turned out? That is not very handsome of you, Mr. Thurlowe.”
“I’mnotagentlemanall the time, Mrs. Estep.”
He had snapped the words out and suddenly the air around them had filled with tension. His words had interjected a different emotion. A surprisingly more raw one.
The faintest tinge of color appeared on his high cheekbones. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“How did it sound?” she dared to ask, almost afraid of the answer.
“Threatening.”
Gemma was taken aback because she hadn’t been thinking in that direction. She turned away from him, shifting her focus to the barn in the field in front of her, and considered her reaction. She hadn’t realized the menace in his words. Instead, she found herself wondering in what ways he was ungentlemanly and the thoughts sparked feelings in her she did not trust.
And would not.
She found her footing. Truth. Truth was always the right answer. Bravely, she said, “You don’t want me to make the salve because youfearfor your patients. You just don’t want mehere. It has nothing to do with healing. Correct?” She faced him, ready for his defiance, and realized he was already walking away. She had been speaking to the air.
Gemma was uncertain of whether to be offended that he had just charged off, or relieved she was free of his disturbing presence.
