“Ignorance is no excuse, sir.” Henrietta’s indignant words rose above the hushed whispers. The authority that resonated in those words did not surprise Dominic, but he could not have her scaring the villagers. He did not know these people. He had made no effort to learn about them, and he could count on one hand the number of times he had rode through the village.
But he knew Old John.
He could not allow Henrietta to browbeat him or disparage him, as she was so clearly bent on doing. Even if she was right, even if she had seen past the man’s facade when no one else had. He finally squeezed to the counter, where his childhood apothecary hunched against the wall, his white hair framing an alarmed expression.
Henrietta’s back was to him and the closer he drew, the more he noticed the rigid set of her shoulders, the palms on her hips. They faced each other like duelists at dawn.
He finally reached her and, as though sensing him, she spun. The look on her face was fierce, her eyes bright and strong, her ivory skin framed by soft curls that drew attention to the curve of her lips.
“Finally, you are here. This man—” she lifted her finger and pointed at Old John “—should be forced to leave the village at once.”
Dominic, affection fading quickly, tilted his head. “Miss Gordon, I see you have met our apothecary.”
“He does not deserve that title.”
“I think you should return to my estate at once. We will discuss your opinion there.”
Her eyes flashed, dark and brilliant. “Not until you rid this town of this false practitioner of medicine.”
“You are to leave this store.”
She made no move to follow his orders.
He leaned closer, not enough to flaunt convention, but close enough to smell the clean scent of her skin. “Do you defy me, Miss Gordon?”
A speculative silence fell about the room as everyone awaited her response.
Chapter Fourteen
Henrietta’s breath caught in her throat, quivery and rapid, as her chest seized. The green in Dominic’s eyes this morning reminded her of burnished emerald, smoky with challenge. Out of the corner of her eye, the quack cowered.
But in the room, everyone listened. And that was enough to remind Henrietta that though she was right, that this cowardly man who handed out advice without knowledge deserved to be banished from the village, she was also Dominic’s employee.
He could dismiss her and she had not quite saved enough money to travel to Wales. Exhaling an impatient breath, she surrendered to his smoldering look.
Shooting the apothecary a scathing glare, she walked around Dominic and threaded her way through the watchers. By their expressions, they had no idea what to think or believe.
She went out and waited for Dominic. She did not pace the walkway, but merely stood silent against a post. A few meters away, a woman watched her. Wrinkles whittled her skin, the carvings of grief.
Henrietta offered the woman a smile, which the woman responded to by moving forward.
“Miss...” Her voice faltered.
“I am Miss Gordon, his lordship’s niece’s governess. I am also a trained physician’s assistant.” She tilted her head. “Are you in need of care?”
The woman glanced around, but the crowd had dispersed and no one would hear their conversation. Just as well, since the woman wore a covert expression. She came closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“He killed my daughter.”
Henrietta did not startle. Practicing medicine was just that. Practicing. Terrible tragedies occurred and most often, the practitioner was blamed. That was not to make light of this woman’s obvious pain. “What happened?”
“I came to him for feverfew, to lower her fever. He gave me the wrong thing. Laudanum. I only knew after she died. I laid my head against her deadness and smelled the opium on her skin. Then I tasted what was left in the bottle.” The woman’s face warped, wringing out her grief in dry twists.
“I am so very sorry,” Henrietta said quietly. “When did this happen?”
“Last year.”
“How old was she?”
“Lettie was twelve.” The woman stepped back. “That man is no healer.” She spun around and marched away. A second later, the door to the apothecary’s shop swung open.
“Why are you still here?” Dominic emerged, brow furrowed and clearly displeasured by her presence.
“You told me to leave the store. I did.” She crossed her arms. The apothecary, that terrible person, stood behind Dominic. Hiding, no doubt. “This is important. This man does not belong in your town, serving up deadly concoctions.”
“I see you met Mrs. Lowery.”
“She told me what you did.”
“Wait a second.” Dominic held up a hand. “This is not the place.”
“I beg to differ, my lord.” Henrietta fixed a hard glare on the apothecary, her stomach roiling, her heart racing. “That could have been Louise who died. Laudanum? Is that your regular prescription for everything?”
The old man’s eyebrows drew together. He did not look cowed by her words. “I gave Lettie a mixture of feverfew and laudanum. The girl’s fever spiked. There was nothing I could do.”
“A likely story.” But doubt took root. Grief often provoked strange perceptions. “Whatever happened with Lettie does not excuse what you have done to Jane.” She turned to Dominic, ignoring the dismay on his face. After all, being an earl meant more than wealth and privilege. “It is your responsibility to address this misuse of medicine.”
Dominic expelled a breath in a way that suggested annoyance.
She glared at him. “Your village apothecary gave laudanum to a woman who quite obviously has consumption. Not only that, but she has probably spread the infection. She should be sent to a sanitarium. Her lungs sound as though it is an advanced case. Did you even listen to her lungs?” She directed that last bit to the apothecary, whose blasé expression only increased her irritation.
“That
