Raven (Gentlemen of the Order 2)

Instinct said someone was sending a message.

A message to a stranger lurking in the woods.

Chapter 5

“Ah, good morning, my lady.”

Dr Goodwin strode into the dining room as if he were master of Blackborne. Being Sophia’s only confidant throughout Jessica’s illness, the doctor behaved more like a family member than a hired practitioner. As a gentleman, he preferred his payment delivered discreetly, which was why he ventured to the bureau at the far end of the room and slipped the folded notes into his coat pocket.

“And how has our patient been this week?” the doctor said, helping himself from the breakfast platters. He always arrived in a cheerful mood, left looking tired and world-weary.

Sophia dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “We had another sleepwalking incident.”

“Another trip to the woods?” Dr Goodwin flicked his coat-tails and sat in the seat opposite. He brushed a swathe of brown hair from his brow, looked ready to upbraid her for not moving Jessica to the hospital in Oxford. “I trust you recovered her without harm or injury?”

“Blent found her and carried her home.”

The doctor tutted as he cut into a thick slice of ham as quickly as he might saw a limb. “One more knock to the head and you will lose her for good.” He cleared his throat. “Did she say what drew her outside?”

“No, but she had regressed to a happier time when she was in love with Mr Archer. She seemed convinced she would soon marry the gentleman, and it took Blent’s soothing words to settle her.”

Dr Goodwin was about to reply, but the thud of footsteps on the stairs captured their attention. F

inlay would disapprove of the doctor eating at the dining table. Not because he had lofty notions of propriety, but because he believed she was too trusting.

She braced herself, ready to lock gazes with the man who made her heart weep and soar simultaneously. Still, nothing prepared her for the way her blood rushed wildly through her veins when Finlay entered the room.

A host of fantasies bombarded her mind. She imagined them married, him more ravenous for her than he was for his breakfast. Uncontrollable appetites would have him clearing a space on the table, lowering her down and driving so deep into her aching body she would forget they had ever been parted.

Finlay’s gaze shot to Dr Goodwin, but he gave no sign he was surprised, nor did he come to an abrupt halt and wait for her to make the introductions.

It was the doctor who dropped his cutlery, the doctor who looked so aghast one would think a vagrant had wandered in and snatched the sliced ham from the platter.

The brittle silence stretched until Finlay settled into the seat at the head of the table and reached for the coffeepot.

“Good morning, Mr Cole,” she said, nerves forcing her to speak.

“Good morning.”

The doctor continued to stare.

“Dr Goodwin, allow me to introduce Mr Cole, a dear family friend.”

“And the best enquiry agent in London.” Finlay’s tone was as sharp as the bread knife. “I’m here to conduct an investigation.”

“An investigation?” Dr Goodwin coughed into his fist. “An investigation into what exactly? Not those women who practise witchcraft in the woods?”

“No, not the harmless creatures who dance beneath the moon and claim they’re free spirits.” Finlay observed the doctor keenly while sipping his coffee. “I’m here to find the man who is poisoning Jessica’s mind. The man who lures her into the woods at night. The man with devious intentions.”

“P-poisoning her mind?” Dr Goodwin shuffled uncomfortably in the chair. Perhaps he found Finlay’s manner threatening, which was why he said, “If you’re suggesting there is something unconventional about the way I treat my patient, then simply say so.”

“I will, once I have witnessed your work and made a study of your methods.” Finlay reached for the wooden board and cut a slice of bread. “Be aware. I am not a man who minces words. If I encounter a problem, Dr Goodwin, you shall be the first to hear my objection.”

Dr Goodwin’s forehead furrowed. “I’m afraid you cannot attend the session. The patient must have the confidence to speak privately. But you’re welcome to read my notes.”

Finlay’s frigid smile chilled the air like an arctic wind. “I will attend your session today, or you will leave this house and never return.”

In a move that proved shocking, a move that sent Sophia’s pulse racing and left her knees weak, Finlay Cole reached across the table and captured her hand. The sensation was akin to being wrapped in thick furs on a cold winter’s night. Comforting. Soothing. Tears pricked her eyes. Tears of joy: it felt wonderful to feel close to him. Tears of sadness: the action served to prove his point, not convey affection.