Chapter Three #2
Refusing to take the bait, he cleared his throat. “I apologize, Miss Adler, for all the trouble my daughter has caused you and your household.”
“ ‘Trouble’? You call what occurred ‘trouble’?” she snapped.
He frowned. The matter was far from mild and would upset anyone, but he’d not been trivializing it, only using a common colloquialism for politeness’ sake, which the woman most certainly knew.
“Though I suppose the word would seem adequate to someone whose only efforts are masturbatory.” Lifting her chin, she glared at his astonished stare.
A sound suspiciously like a snicker emanated from Isabelle, though her face remained blank.
énerve, énerves, énerve, énervons, énervez, énervent.
“I’ll have you know that I’ll have no use of my dominant hand for a month, and my entire workshop has been destroyed,” Miss Adler continued as Isabelle rubbed her shoulder, while Roger bit back a quip about how difficult anything “masturbatory” must now be for her. Improper beyond belief.
Ugh. He was supposed to be well trained enough not to even think such things.
“I now can neither tend patients nor render supplies,” Miss Adler continued. “How, may I ask you, am I supposed to earn a living?” She gave an even more dramatic “harrumph” than Maduro’s.
“My family will pay for any loss of income you suffer,” Roger assured her, eyeing the still angry but now shivering woman.
He made quick work of his buttons, pulling off his coat and holding it out to her.
She stared at it for a moment before grabbing the garment with a sharp yank and wrapping it around her body.
Not even a “thank you” or an acknowledgment.
“Loss of income?” the woman snapped. “You believe income is all I’m losing?
” She muttered something beneath her breath that sounded suspiciously like fucking schmuck, before meeting his gaze again, a frightening gleam in her blue-gray eyes.
“What of the trust lost when I’m not available?
The fracturing of relationships my mother and I cultivated, both with our patients and the other midwives, many of whom we supply with products? ”
“A fair point,” Isabelle said with a traitorous nod.
“But I promise you, I shall personally ensure that your patients are being treated without being poached.” She swung her gaze back to him.
“And Mr. Berab here will ensure you are provided with the proper ingredients and space in his home to render supplies as soon as you are able.” She pulled Miss Adler closer to her, despite being quite a bit smaller, as Miss Adler’s eyes grew rather large.
Probably mirroring his own.
“Beg pardon?” the two of them asked in unison, with Miss Adler now glaring at him. As if he were the one at fault, instead of someone being just as outmaneuvered as she.
“Well, you can’t live here until the roof, floor, and staircase are repaired,” Isabelle said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“But you’d hate to leave London for the sake of your business.
” Her voice brightened. “And while my home is quite full of people who shall just irritate you—trust me, they irritate me already—his is rather empty. Besides, he wants to help and properly make amends.” She gave Roger a pointed look.
Perhaps Isabelle’s husband wasn’t the more obnoxious and insufferable half of the couple after all. Though such was irrelevant, given their families’ entanglement as well as the fact that she’d already won.
He cleared his throat.
“Yes,” he said, with as much sincerity as he could muster. “I do. I would be honored to have you come and stay in my home for your recovery. We can bring your belongings—”
“She has very little,” Isabelle interrupted yet again. “The primary damage, besides the staircase, was to her bedroom and workroom.” Her voice somehow remained almost cheery. “You can leave immediately!”
She turned to Miss Adler and kissed her on the forehead, jostling the woman so his jacket slid down her shoulders and back, once again revealing her thin garments—which he properly ignored.
“Rest, darling. I know this is awful, but we shall get through it. I promise.” Isabelle reached out and squeezed the other woman’s hand. “If there’s any trouble, just let me know, and I’ll come and sort matters out.”
Roger resisted an eye roll.
“Though I doubt that shall be necessary.” She smiled, raising her chin a little. “Correct, Roger?”
“Correct,” he affirmed with a sigh.
“Wonderful,” Isabelle said, pushing upon the carriage door and exiting, not even waiting for the coachman to assist her. “I shall see you both soon.”
Before either he or Miss Adler could say another word, the door was shut, and she was gone. Unfortunately, leaving them alone.
Grimacing at the other woman’s hostile expression, Roger cleared his throat yet again. “Well, this was not my id—”
“No, it was Isabelle’s,” Miss Adler snapped. “However, she’s no longer present. Thus, if you believe that I’m going to live in your home for the next few weeks, you—”
The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head as she slumped against the seat.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” he grumbled, reaching out and pulling the woman onto his lap lest she fall to the ground and give herself another injury for which he’d be held responsible, before banging on the carriage wall and calling out, “Time to go. And make it fast.”
He was going to have a long evening.