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“The Kendricks are always willing to open their wallets for a good cause, I hear.” A crafty smile formed on the housekeeper’s face. “And from the way the good doctor looks at ye, I’m thinking he won’t mind doing what he can to help.”
That was exactly why Samantha was reluctant to ask him. After that fraught, exciting moment when he’d almost kissed her, her emotions had been in a tumult. For her to ask for financial support, especially when he was already doing so much, struck her as manipulative.
She loathed the idea that Braden would think she was using him.
“The doctor and his family are doing quite enough. I don’t want to go begging for money unless I have no alternative.”
“He was happy to save yer life the other night. I imagine he’d be happy to help ye out with this, too.”
Samantha blew out an annoyed breath. “I was perfectly safe at all times.”
Mrs. Johnson started making her way around the room, plumping pillows and straightening stacks of books. “Because Dr. Kendrick caught up with ye before ye got to Old Town. I shudder to think what would have happened if he’d not been there.”
“Then I would have delayed visiting the Hanging Judge until daytime. I’m not a complete nitwit.”
“I never said ye were. But Donny and me can see how this chafes on ye. Ye can’t go out on yer searches with him laid up, and that has ye in a right good fret.”
“Time is not on our side. If another child goes missing . . .”
“Yer doing everything ye can, so there’s no good working yerself into a stew.” She glanced at Samantha. “Mayhap the doctor can go out with ye tonight? Even Donny trusts him, now that ye’ve explained the situation.”
Samantha picked up her teacup. “I hope he can. He’s been busy with patients the last few nights, and I’ve been stuck at home, feeling utterly useless.”
Mrs. Johnson went back to her tidying. “He’ll help, and Mr. Logan will no doubt get to the bottom of yer money troubles. Clan Kendrick is a force of nature, and all of them verra handsome, too. Ye could do much worse than Dr. Kendrick, my lady.”
Thankfully, Samantha had already swallowed her tea or she would have spit it out all over the ledger. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Yer still looking peaked,” said her housekeeper, ignoring the question. “Mayhap ye should talk to Dr. Kendrick about those headaches.”
“You may have noticed that I already have a doctor, and he’s a very good one.”
Besides, Braden was the last person she wanted to know about her headaches.
“Aye, Dr. Blackmore is a grand physician, but he’s married.”
“Which has nothing to do with anything,” Samantha tartly replied.
The doorknocker sounded from below, interrupting Mrs. Johnson’s embarrassing observations. Samantha’s feelings for Braden Kendrick, or his feelings for her, were not something she wished to think about.
“Are ye expecting anyone, my lady?” Mrs. Johnson asked.
“Not today. Is it Dr. Kendrick?” she couldn’t help asking as the housekeeper peered out the window.
Mrs. Johnson let out an aggrieved sigh. “We should be so lucky.”
Samantha rose. “Who is it?”
“Lord Beath. That’s his carriage.”
“That cannot be right. He never comes to town at this time of year.”
Samantha hurried over to the window. Sure enough, Beath’s old-fashioned town coach was parked below, liveried grooms at the ready. Her stomach pitched.
Hell and damnation.
Muted voices told her that the maid had answered the door. Beath’s sharp tones overrode the girl’s soft voice, with a harsh demand to see the mistress of the house,immediately.
“Riled up old bugger,” Mrs. Johnson grumbled as she hurried to the door. “Ripping up at poor Sally.”
