“Yes, Doctor,” she replied, as if being dutiful. She took a sip, tasted it, and then took another. “It is restorative.” The fear had left her eye.
Fitz hovered. “Will you accept my apology, Mrs. Estep—?”
“Gemma,” she corrected him perfunctorily. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes as if letting the brandy flow through her being.
“Gemma,” Fitz repeated.
He really did sound pathetic and Ned could see Gemma softening toward him. For that reason, he said, “I am certain you are sorry, Fitz. However, this will be a matter for the magistrate when he returns. You can’t go around bashing heads.”
Poor Fitz appeared ready to dissolve. “I regret what I did. I wasn’t thinking. My mother will be disappointed.”
“Still, you did it.”
Gemma had opened her eyes, watching Ned carefully during this exchange. Not Fitz. She watched him.
“I’ve never been in trouble before,” Fitz said. He appeared ready to bolt.
Ned shrugged. He had no words.
Gemma did. “Why did you attack me? I understand you were trying to steal, but youhitme?”
“I didn’t mean to attack you. When you cameout of your room, you startled me. I thought you were with the other women gathered at Smythson this evening.” Smythson was the ancestral home of the Duke of Winderton and where his mother resided.
“Ah, so that is why Mrs. Warbler hasn’t come running over,” Ned murmured. The color was definitely returning to her cheeks. He was now certain she would be all right. One always had to worry about concussion.
“I was supposed to go with them except I was tired. Thank heavens I was here, although you would not have found the letter from my uncle.”
That caught Ned’s interest. A letter? That was what she had?
And then he pushed those thoughts aside. There had been enough of this nonsense for the night. Almost wearily, he said, “The Earl of Marsden will deal fairly with you, Fitz. Of course, what you should truly fear is the wrath of your mother and the other matrons once they learn what you have done.”
Fitz pulled at his hair. “Oh, God, sir, Mother can’t know. She will not be pleased.” He looked again to Gemma. “I will do anything to make this right to you. I’m not afraid of paying my dues.”
“Just not in front of the magistrate or your mother, eh?” Ned observed.
Fitz ignored him, appealing directly to Gemma. “Please.”
“Your friends might believe I deserved a whack on the head,” she said quietly.
“No, ma’am, they would not think it honorable. And it wasn’t,” Fitz answered.
Gemma considered him a moment. She took another sip of brandy and then said, “I could use help here. Show up on the morrow and we shall see if we can work something out. I would not wish to trouble the magistrate over the matter.”
Fitz’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you.Thank you—” Ned thought he sounded pathetic in his gratitude. “I will be here. In the morning?”
“Oh, yes, half past seven. I’m an early riser.”
Fitz nodded. “Thank you, Mrs.—Gemma. Thank you.”
“The lads will believe you a turncoat,” Ned pointed out. He wanted Fitz to realize exactly what he was committing to.
“They can think what they like. I’m sorry I did it.” With that, he took off as if escaping before she could change her mind.
They were alone.
He suddenly became very aware of that.
And although she wasn’t the first female patient he’d been alone with in her nightdress, she was the first where he’d registered how thin the material of a gown was. Or wondered how naked the body was beneath it.
