Dr Goodwin’s lips thinned as he stared at their clasped hands.
It couldn’t be jealousy she saw flitting across his features. Yes, they were on familiar terms. Yes, she might even regard Dr Goodwin as a friend, but he had given no indication he expected more. And while his sculpted jaw and confident countenance marked him as a man of some charisma, she preferred the brooding gentleman with the devilish charm.
“Let me be clear,” Finlay continued, gripping her hand so tightly heat pooled between her thighs. “Lady Adair and I agree on this matter.” He paused. “As a professional man, it must be frustrating to know Jessica has made no improvement. Considering the fact her condition worsens by the day, should you not welcome another opinion?”
Dr Goodwin took to cutting his ham vigorously again. “Man has not, or never will, fully master the workings of the human mind. And with all due respect, you’re hardly qualified to give advice.”
“What a foolish assumption,” Finlay countered.
If rapid blinking was a sign of unease, then Dr Goodwin seemed most perturbed.
“I have a wealth of experience when it comes to dealing with fragile minds,” Finlay said, no doubt referring to the criminals he’d encountered while working as an agent of the Order. He released her hand, leaving her somewhat bereft. “Your instant dismissal speaks of intolerance. Such a biased view must hinder your progress.”
With a mild huff of frustration, the doctor laid down his cutlery. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn. I sense hostility though am at a loss to know why.”
Sophia forced a light laugh. “Mr Cole is used to questioning criminals which accounts for his blunt tone.”
She had to say something to ease the tension.
“Do not speak for me, Sophia,” Finlay said. “Dr Goodwin is correct. I have numerous issues regarding his ethics.”
It was the doctor’s turn to feign amusement. “But I’ve told you nothing about my dealings with the patient.”
“Then let me provide enlightenment.” Finlay relaxed back in the chair and steepled his fingers. “For seven years, you have treated Jessica Draper. You’re so comfortable here you dine with the family, and yet you constantly refer to her as ‘the patient’. Your impersonal manner signifies an air of detachment. And so I must conclude that you have no desire to cure Jessica of her affliction.”
Sophia stared at Finlay, impressed by his level of insight, ashamed the important fact had eluded her, surprised by the depth of his vehemence.
Dr Goodwin’s cheeks flamed. “We are taught to detach personally from our patients in order to approach the illness objectively.”
“Showing compassion would reap better results.” Finlay spoke with supreme confidence in his opinion. “Were you to dine with Jessica and engage her in conversation, you would learn a damn sight more about her condition.”
As uncomfortable as it was, Sophia watched the exchange with interest. Finlay was right, to a certain extent, but his animosity toward the doctor seemed irrational.
“Are you medicating her?” Finlay asked sharply.
“Of course. She cannot sleep and is plagued by recurring nightmares.”
“You’re giving her a tincture of laudanum?”
Dr Goodwin narrowed his gaze. “And a paregoric elixir to calm the nerves.”
Finlay gritted his teeth. “Have you ever gone for a period without force-feeding her medicine?”
Sophia covertly nudged Finlay’s foot beneath the table. Now she knew why his friends called him Raven. The birds were ruthless protectors, capable of warding off perceived threats. They attacked without compunction. And yet she felt there had to be an underlying reason for his savage assault.
“May I speak to you for a moment, Mr Cole?” she said, lest Dr Goodwin grab his medicine bag and storm from the house, never to return.
“Can it wait?”
Sophia forced a smile. “I’m afraid not.”
“Very well.”
He followed her to the drawing room.
“Close the door, Finlay.” She lowered her voice. “I do not want Dr Goodwin to hear our conversation.”
Annoyance punctuated her tone. What in heaven’s name was he about? She was in no position to hire another doctor.