Archaic nincompoop. The muscles in her neck were drawn as tight as a corset. “You do not listen to the sound of your patient’s cough?”
“I often put my ear against a man’s chest, but what you are suggesting carries a level of impropriety for a woman. It is my practice to avoid such things.”
“You are a fraud, sir. To put social etiquette above a science that saves lives.”
“Consumption is not curable.”
She squared her shoulders. “But it is containable, and you have not done your part.”
Dominic moved between the invisible artillery flying between her and the apothecary. “That is quite enough, Miss Gordon. Go back to the estate and see to Louise. I will address this with you this evening.”
“Very well.” She shot the apothecary one last, furious look before going to collect her horse.
It wasn’t until after the dinner hour that Dominic summoned her. She’d been able to calm herself somewhat by itemizing her concerns by importance. If she didn’t think too hard about the apothecary’s ineptitude, she could actually eat her food, a meal that was served to her cold. Again.
Evidently the new maids were not being properly put to use.
That went on her list. Even if his parents had spent no time preparing him for earldom, due to his being a second son, that no longer excused his neglect.
She went to his study with a list of items to discuss.
As usual, his greeting for her to enter sounded distracted and glum. He sat behind the desk, studying a mound of papers. She expected him to look up and appear concerned. To perhaps have grown a few more gray hairs the way she felt she had this afternoon.
Or maybe a new line upon his face to replace that irksome dimple.
But no, when he straightened, it was with a charming grin and spiraling crinkles at the corner of his eyes. The lamplight caught his hair in a shining mass of ebony.
How very unfair that he was so unaffected by this afternoon’s tumult. She squared her shoulders, her list clutched within her right hand. Smoothing her hair with her left, an altogether vain move and yet comforting in the order it suggested, she seated herself and placed the paper on the desk.
Dominic reached for it, but she slid it toward herself.
“Is that your resignation?” The crinkles flattened. He pulled back his hand.
Containing her surprise, she shook her head. “No, my lord, unless you feel I should tender one?”
He regarded her, the crescent in his cheek deepening. “I hardly find such a dramatic move necessary, and today has been filled with enough theatrics without adding that to your list.” He nodded at the paper.
She pursed her lips. “There are only three or four concerns, but they are important. I thought if I wrote them down, you might find it easier to fix them.”
“You do not find yourself to be presumptuous?” He steepled his fingers. The green in his eyes was deeper tonight. An inane observation, but present nonetheless.
“Is it presumptuous to see a problem and suggest a solution?”
“I asked first.”
“Very well. I don’t find myself to be presumptuous. I’m tired of eating cold food. Despite your new maids, it is being delivered to my room cold and tasteless.”
Dominic frowned, and the tilt of his lips did nothing to detract from his handsome features. “Our food was served hot.”
“Perhaps you could speak to your staff, then.” Shrugging off the uncomfortable thought that perhaps the servants disliked her, she continued. “It is also necessary to update Louise’s collection of books. They are outdated by at least fifty years.”
“That is not surprising.”
At her lifted eyebrow, he shrugged. “My brother and his wife were not interested in furthering their education beyond farming and Seasonal activities in London. The books he kept are incomplete.” He shook his head. “But that is not your business.”
The comment should not have stung, and yet it did. She ignored it to broach the final item on her list. “My final concern has to do with the apothecary.”
He heaved a giant sigh that to a less hardier personality may have induced pity. She was not swayed by his lack of desire to argue the subject.
“It was you who said we would speak of it this evening,” she said in a firm voice.
“And you never shy away from tackling difficult discussions, do you, Miss Gordon?”
She shook her head.
“Very well.” He fixed her with a stare as firm as her voice had been. “Today you publicly insulted him and flaunted my authority. You are to apologize.”
* * *
The shock on Henrietta’s face was almost comical. Dominic had no doubt that the lady had never been told to apologize for anything in her life. From what he’d seen, she had been indulged a little too much. That brain of hers had stunted other aspects of her personality, namely her humility.
He waited while she sputtered.
Finally she said, “I certainly will not apologize.”
“Why?” Perhaps he should not be surprised, but he was. “Your behavior was unacceptable.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No, you should be begging mine.” Any humor that may have been tempting Dominic to laugh fled beneath the knowledge that she truly did not see how inappropriate she’d been.
“No. No, absolutely not.” She set her jaw in a prissy jut.
Dominic shuffled the papers on his desk, mostly to look busy while he considered a new approach. Dismissing her was out of the question, but he couldn’t have her jaunting into the village and stirring up strife. She had inspired him to do more with the estate, to ignore the fear of failure and the commitment involved, but she was not in charge.
“Very well,” he said finally. “I will consider the matters you’ve brought before me. In the meantime, you are not to practice medicine or provide any medical assistance without my permission first.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
“Your actions today were borne of emotion and anger. They were not professional and helped no one. You undermined me and what I’m trying to accomplish as the earl here.”
She
