Page 26 of Prescription for Sin

Everett’s shoulders tensed, possibly because of Michael’s blatant familiarity with her.

Michael continued, “Perhaps I should examine you myself, to ensure there are no complications.”

Emma felt Everett stiffen beside her. “That won’t be necessary, Doctor. Miss Brown’s care has been exemplary.”

The tension in the room thickened. Emma found herself keenly aware of every point of contact between her body and Everett’s as she helped him sit. Michael watched them with disapproval.

“I should fetch fresh bandages,” she said, needing escape from the charged atmosphere. But Michael followed her out into the corridor and took her aside by the arm. He whispered, “Emma, I came about our research.”

Emma’s professional interest caught. “How bad is it?”

“Worse than we thought. Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner?” The invitation held echoes of countless shared meals over medical texts.

“I should stay with my patient… Could you bring it here?”

“Surely he can spare you for an hour?” Michael’s smile held a hint of indignation.

Emma hesitated, looking between the guest chamber and Michael. The choice should have been simple. Michael was her colleague, her friend, someone society would deem a suitable match. Yet she found herself worrying what Everett would think if she dined alone with Michael. The irony that she cared about the opinion of a man who claimed to sell his body, rather than pursue a respectable physician's interest, was not lost on her.

“Bring the work here, please. I should monitor him tonight, ensure there’s no relapse.”

Michael’s disappointment was obvious. “You never could leave a patient in distress.” He sighed. “All right. I shall return tonight.”

After Michael left, Emma returned to Everett’s room. An awkward silence fell as she busied herself straightening his blankets.

“Your colleague seems…concerned for your welfare,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

“Michael worries too much.” She adjusted a pillow with more force than necessary. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Just friends?” The question hung between them, loaded with unspoken meaning.

Emma’s hands stilled. “Does it matter?”

“No,” Everett said quietly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

But something in his voice made her turn to look at him. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air seemed to crackle with everything they weren’t saying.

“You should rest,” she said softly, breaking the moment. “Doctor’s orders.”

His lips curved slightly. “Yours or his?”

“Mine,” she said, ignoring the way his small smile made her pulse quicken. “Always mine.”

As she closed his door, Emma pressed her forehead against the wood, wondering why she had uttered those words that felt so much like a promise.

14 December 1840

My dearest Emma,

The installation of new water pipes in the East End was completed approximately three months ago. I remember because one of our scullery maids live in that neighbourhood and complained about the water tasting foul. Do you believe there is a link between the water quality and cholera? If you do, my dear Emma, I must warn my staff of it. Please do advise once you have an answer.

Now, let us discuss your obvious infatuation with Mr Hughes! Your letter practically vibrates with emotion. The way you write of nursing him, singing to him… You, who claim to be thoroughly unmusical and unemotional!

My darling, you are either besotted or bewitched. I must caution you. Physical attraction, while delightful, can mask deeper incompatibilities. In your next letter, I demand a thorough list of his virtues and shortcomings. We must approach this scientifically, as you so love to do.

Speaking of science, you remain frustratingly vague about your “encounters” with him. What happened to your usually precise documentation?

I am relieved to hear of Mr Hughes’s recovery, though with England’s finest physician tending him, how could he not be well? Still, the way you describe holding his hand through the fever… Emma, dearest, I believe your heart may be as compromised as your clinical detachment.