Dunne. “I suppose I should have listened when she told me she’d had a bad experience with illness. Whatever happened, it’s made her apprehensive. She hasn’t told you anything of her past, has she, Mrs. Mainprice?”
“Very little, sir. Just that times were hard back in Ireland and she came here in search of work. The girls tried to get her to say more, but she’s closed tight as a mussel shell. Not a happy past, I’d warrant. She’s borne something unpleasant, but ’tis that not true for most of us?”
His housekeeper’s eyes, which always reminded him of pure country earth, were filled with sympathy. As much for him as for the newly arrived, and increasingly intriguing, Miss Dunne.
James flipped shut his medical book. “I wonder if Miss Dunne is going to be able to do what I need from her, after all.”
“I think Miss Dunne wants to be helpful, and I trust she’ll work hard.” She swept up his dirty dishes from breakfast, loading them into her arms. “Besides, she’s got a good heart.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“There’s not much gets past me, sir.”
He knew how true that was. Mrs. Mainprice had served his family since James had been a boy, and she’d always been keenly observant. Father had relied on her advice when hiring other servants and James had done likewise, because she could see through the hardest of shells right down to the meaty core of a person. He suspected she was seeing right down to the core of him at that moment too.
“I suppose I should go out to the garden and see how she’s faring,” he said.
“Miss Dunne might appreciate a kind word, sir.”
“Then I dare not dawdle.”
Once she departed with the dirty dishes, James headed out through the rear door of the house and into the murky London morning. He averted his eyes from the tattered condition of the flower beds. He hadn’t come out here to remember former days.
Miss Dunne heard the crunch of boots upon the gravel walk and looked over. Hastily, she stood. “Dr. Edmunds, I did not mean to spend so long in the garden—”
He halted her with a raised hand. “Take as long as you need.”
The color was returning to her cheeks. She was very lovely, fresh and bright in a way so many of the young women of his acquaintance weren’t, their faces already dulled by cynicism and self-obsession. Even Louisa Castleton, only nineteen and jaded.
“I am certain you would prefer I got to work in the library,” she said. “You are not paying me to enjoy the flowers.”
What little was left of them. “I’m not, but I’m also not paying you to endure situations that make you ill. Don’t feel badly over what occurred in my office. If you aren’t comfortable attending to my patients, I understand. I shall be able to manage them on my own, I’m sure.”
“Thank you for your kindness, Dr. Edmunds.”
“It isn’t kindness to recognize when a member of my staff is unsuited for a particular task. It is an investment toward a well-run household.”
“Nonetheless, I do not like to cause a commotion or be a bother.”
But she already had caused a commotion, if the surprising way he felt when he touched her hand was any indication. Selfishly—or stupidly—he was looking forward to discovering what further surprises were in store.
“I believe, Miss Dunne, you would never be a bother to me.”
CHAPTER 7
I am truly sorry, Mrs. Mainprice, but I cannot attend services this morning. My head is splitting,” Rachel fibbed, padding the horrible untruth with an apologetic smile. She did not have a headache yet, but she would if she had to face God in His house.
“Another bad night’s sleep, miss?”
“No, not at all.” Thankfully, last night had been free of nightmares. “I simply do not feel well. I must still be adjusting to London and all its noises and whatnot. I hope Dr. Edmunds will not mind.”
“If you need a powder, I keep some in the pantry off the kitchen.”
“I might just sit in the garden for a while. Sunlight and fresh air should cure it.”
“We’re off to St. Peter’s, then.” She bustled out of Rachel’s room. Rachel heard the front door closing downstairs. She let a few minutes pass before she headed out to the garden.
The garden was just as quiet—and just as sad-looking—as it had been yesterday. Weeds intermingled with flowers, many of which were exotic types she did not recognize and certainly would never see in Ireland. The gravel