Chapter 3 #3
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 had softened 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 a thump on 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. “You founded 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, you will be 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 be Doctor 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-class patients 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.”
She groaned, her temper flaring. “I am not in any danger.”
“You are a stone’s throw from Whitechapel,” he retorted, his voice rising. “You don’t know the first thing about life in the stews.”
“Do not patronize me, Lord Thornton.” Cassie came out from behind the desk, now simmering for a fight. “We might be mutual acquaintances through Audrey and Hugh, but that doesn’t give you the right to lecture me or tell me what I can and cannot do. Now, on the topic of your payment—”
“I do not accept payment,” he snapped, meeting her in the center of the room, practically fulminating.
“Dorie is sick with a serious fever. It’s running rampant in the stews, and it is highly contagious.
She must not come into contact with the other women, and only one person should provide care.
Not you. Even if you do not listen to another word I say, at least promise me you will stay away from her. ”
His eyes drilled into hers, and Cassie thought she saw a glimmer of worry underneath his anger.
She bit her tongue against an instant retort that she would not stay away from a single woman at Hope House in need of care.
It would only rile him further, and he needed to leave.
She needed him to go. His finding her here was a catastrophe, and this outburst perfectly displayed why.
“Fine,” she said at last.
He stepped back, looked around for his bag, and then picked it up. Then, he fetched his hat from the shabby sofa.
“How do you get back to Grosvenor Square? Please, for God’s sake, woman, tell me you don’t hire a hackney cab.”
She gritted her molars. “I have a driver,” was all she said before going to the door and whipping it open. A clear invitation for him to leave.
He slapped his hat on and glowered. “Good evening, Miss Banks.”
“Goodbye, Doctor Brown.”
She slammed the door on his heels.