Page 18 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
Drake worked his jaw and fought the biting response uppermost in his mind. “He said not yet but ‘soon.’?”
Helen frowned. “Well, that’s utter bollocks.”
He chuckled. “My sentiments exactly.”
“I’m sorry, Ben. But what you do still matters a great deal. Many of your cases have stopped men from doing further harm and achieved a measure of peace for their victims.”
“Yes, but forever answering to Haverstock or another superior isn’t my goal. I can do more from the top than from the middle.”
“You’ll get there.” She inhaled and smiled. “I smell stew. Did Mrs. Pratt get any of it down you yet?”
They could only afford a staff of two and were blessed with a housekeeper who was also a fine cook.
“Not yet. I suspect she left me to sleep until you came home.”
“Indeed, I did, Mr. Drake.” The tall, steel-haired woman who managed their household with the same efficiency with which Helen ran her clinic appeared in the drawing room doorway as if she’d been waiting for mention of her name. “Everything’s been laid out in the dining room. Unless you’d prefer trays in here.”
Taking supper together in front of the fire was a habit built in childhood when meals were irregular and they didn’t know when their next might come. Now they both put in long hours, and meals were catch-as-catch-can. It was rare for them to gather to eat together in front of a fire as they had so many years ago before they’d fled their mother’s lodgings.
“Dining in here sounds nice,” Helen told Mrs.Pratt, who returned soon after with two prepared trays.
“Were there many cases waiting for you when this one was done?” Helen asked after her first bite of stew.
Ben shot her a look and she returned a soft smile.
“I suppose the better question is how many are you juggling at once?”
“Plenty. As are you.” Ben swallowed a swig of tea and shifted to study his sister. “You look a bit put out yourself. Is it Mrs. Dowd?”
Among her many patients, one had found a special place in his sister’s heart.
“Actually, she’s been sent home.” Helen’s voice cracked and she sipped tea to cover it.
“Is she well enough to be on her own?”
“Of course not, but I’m not the consulting doctor and the argument was made that we need the space for other patients.”
“You know as much as that bloody doctor, if not more, particularly about Mrs. Dowd.”
“Mmm.” She stared into the fire as if giving the whole matter thought, though he knew she wouldn’t push as he would. She wouldn’t demand that Dr. Porter give her the respect she deserved. It wasn’t his sister’s way.
They were different. Helen preferred to work quietly, her head down, helping as many as she could and did not worry overly about being recognized for any of it. She knew her worth.
Her conscience wasn’t burdened like his was.
“We could take turns visiting Mrs. Dowd,” he offered quietly.
His sister turned a surprised look his way. “You really wish to add something more to your load?”
“You do charity work, your nursing duties, your studies, and yet I’m sure you’ve already made plans to visit her. I can stop by and visit from time to time too.”
She pressed her lips together—usually a sign that she wished to decline but struggled with a polite way to do so. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Ben.”
“Why not?” In this respect, he found his sister maddening. Not asking for help and not accepting it when it was offered were quite different, and she was stubbornly independent to the extreme.
“She’s a fragile older woman and, frankly, has a nervous constitution. You can be rather... gruff. And a strange man at her door might frighten her.”
“A strange, gruff man,” he grumbled teasingly.
