Page 9 of The Lady's Last Mistake
His eyes narrowed to slits then refocused on Elyse as she explained Dorie’s condition. Cassie slipped out of the room, her fingers strangling the basket handles. Her heart re-started as she set off at a charge.
Doctor Brown?What in the name of King George was he doing calling himself that? And what was he doing here, in Spitalfields? Cassie’s ears continued to chime as she blindly made her way to the washroom, absentmindedly murmuring hello to Sister Agatha along the way. Once alone, she set thebasket of linen down and leaned against the washroom’s cold stone wall. How could this have happened?
She should have left when Mabel and Elyse suggested it. But she hadn’t imagined any doctor who’d deign a charity home worthy of his time would possibly have ties to the peerage. The notion that it could behimhad not even crossed her mind.
She needed to leave now, before he could finish with Dorie. Cassie hurried back to her office to collect her things. Her driver, Tris, had arrived in the alley behind Hope House at four o’clock, as usual, to pick her up. He was the only member of her staff who knew of her secret life across town. Although he was officially employed by the duke, Tris had vowed his silence. His sister, Anita, had been one of Hope House’s first residents, and he’d said his confidence and trust was the least he could give Cassie in return.
Tris could whisk her back to Mayfair, away from this conundrum. But it would only follow her. If she didn’t face Lord Thornton now, he would find some other time to corner her and demand answers. Who knew where that would be, or who else might be there? He was infuriating enough to make a show of it. So, instead of dashing off as her instinct shouted for her to do, she lingered in the hallway outside Dorie’s room. The sound of his voice coming through the door was a continual stroke of alarm down her spine. Not very unlike the tremors that had come alive under her skin last week when they’d been squeezed into that wretched closet together.
Eventually, Elyse exited the room, again followed by Lord Thornton. With his bag in his hand, he looked to be leaving. He fixed his attention on Cassie, but the shock that hadsoftened his features earlier was nowhere to be found. Wrath hardened the corners of his mouth and lit his irises like a green inferno.
“Doctor Brown, if you don’t mind, I’d like a word in private,” she said, and at Elyse’s surprised frown, added, “It’s to do with payment for your services.”
“Yes, I did want to speak to you about that,” he replied tightly. “Miss Khan, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, unless you send for me earlier.”
Elyse thanked him before moving toward the stairs to the next floor, the curious arch of her brow persisting. She would have questions for Cassie later, that was for certain. However, dealing with the furious lord on her heels as she led him toward her office was her primary concern.
Lord Thornton stalked into the small, cold room, and Cassie shut the door behind him.
He dropped his bag with athumpon the floor and threw his hat onto the sofa. He set his hands on his hips and stared down at her. “I’m beginning to think you’re determined to ruin yourself, Lady Cassandra. What in hell are you doing in this place?”
Suddenly, he seemed much taller than he’d been before. Then again, the ceiling in her office was quite low. The crown of his head was nearly at the cornices.
Cassie crossed her arms, refusing to cower. “Why are you here, pretending to be someone called Doctor Brown?”
Lord Thornton shook his head. “No. You will answer my question. This is a house for ruined women. You cannot be here.”
She warmed, despite the chilled temperature of the office. “I know exactly what this place is, as Miss Khan and I are the ones who founded it.”
His hands dropped from his hips and that softened, awestruck expression came back over his features. “Youfounded it?”
She held his glare. “Yes.”
“Does the duke know?”
Cassie balked. “If Michael knew, he’d explode into a million pieces. He’d then cobble himself back together and murder me.”
Lord Thornton cocked his head and seethed. “I share the temptation.”
Cassie stepped past him, annoyed by his looming and frothing at the bit. “Hope House is important. The women who come here need help; they need care. Michael isn’t cruel, but he wouldn’t understand. He’d only care about protecting me.”
“As he should.” Lord Thornton followed her the few paces to her desk, which she placed herself behind. Putting some object between them seemed a good idea. “Cassie, if you are discovered here, youwillbe ruined. Not to mention you’ll irreparably tarnish the Fournier name.”
“That is why everyone here believes I am Miss Jane Banks. No one is going to discover me.”
He threw out his arms. “I have!”
“Only because you are pretending to beDoctor Brown, the mysterious physician who pays house calls on the poor.”
He hefted his chin, and the flames in his eyes banked. He’d as good as drawn shutters around himself.
“You run a free clinic in Whitechapel,” she stated. “Secretly, I presume, considering not one of your upper-classpatients would so much as allow you in through the front door if they knew what you were doing. Share a physician with the common poor? They wouldn’t stand for it.”
He shifted his jaw but said nothing as he turned to look through the window. The snow had changed to cold rain, flecking the thin, cracked glass.
“You must understand, then, why I am here,” she said, somewhat more softly.
“I understand why I do what I do.” He cut his eyes back to her. They sharpened. “But I cannot begin to comprehend why you would put yourself into this situation. Into this danger.”
