Page 75 of A Daring Pursuit

“A day or so.”

She grunted in a way Docia would chastise her for outright. “Where is everyone?”

“I am here for morning duties. Isabelle and Docia spent the night and left only an hour ago. Pasha is assembling tea for you. Something to eat as well, I hope, as I forgot to mention that.”

The crossness in Geneva’s chest loosened. “Isabelle needs her rest. What is Mrs. Oshea thinking in allowing her in a sickroom?”

Again, that lovely smile embedded itself in Geneva’s heart. “There is no keeping her at bay. Verda is helpless against Isabelle’s tenacity. The girl has high aspirations. She wishes to be a doctor. I worry for her disappointment.”

“Bah.” Geneva waved out a hand then quickly covered her mouth in a cough. “Change never occurs without those who do not rush headlong into the fray.”

His dark-gray eyes penetrated through to her soul. “You know something of that, don’t you?”

She met his eyes then dropped her gaze. “I do, indeed.”

“What are you working on now?”

She smiled. “Nothing, for obvious reasons. But I do have an article to complete on the advantages of educating the masses.”

“Perhaps you would consider doing one on the importance of women doctors.”

She stared at him—speechless—surely he was jesting. But his expression clearly showed he was not. “I believe that is an excellent notion,” she said slowly. “I’ll do anything to help Isabelle.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “There is something I must tell you.”

Her stomach dipped. “What?” she asked with an impending sense of dread.

“I don’t know where or if this plays into your presence at Stonemare—” His wince was barely discernable, sending the spike of apprehension deeper, but she refrained from speaking. “There was an entry in my father’s records for Miss Greensley’s school. I expect it was for your tuition.”

Geneva took a deep breath and let it out in a long, even stream. What was she supposed to do with such information? The pain in her head began pounding with visions of that swirling greatcoat when seconds ago, she’d forgotten it altogether.

“What is it? Geneva. Love, I’m sorry. I thought you should know.”

His voice penetrated through the black surge that had hit with a vengeance. Eventually, the black ebbed to gray with specks of light. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “It’s all right,” she croaked out, the scratch in her throat pulsating. “We suspected, didn’t we?”

“Yes, darling, we did.”

“Why? Why would he do such a thing?”

He snorted. “It certainly wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart.”

The pounding in her head intensified.The black, swirling greatcoat, the gravelly voice. The disdain, the disgust. “Send her to the Black Widow when she’s of an age. Hell, I’ll even pay the exorbitant fees it’ll require.”

These bits of memory teasing her at will were maddening.

She lifted her eyes, meeting his. “Who the devil is the Black Widow?”

“A Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Noah said slowly, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck. A slow flush crawled into his face and Geneva stilled, dread spreading through her like that flush on his face.

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon. The Black Widow of Whitehall. I-I’ve heard of her. She—” Geneva swallowed. “She…”

He grabbed her hand. “Don’t. Whatever it is—if it had anything to do with my father, put it out of your mind. Now. You’re here. At Stonemare. With me.” He brought her hand to his lips until they rested firmly on her knuckles. “With others whocareabout you.”

“But—”

“No! Whatever it is, put it out of your mind. Promise me.” His fingers tightened on hers. “Promise.”

“I-I promise,” she whispered, tears stinging.

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