He nodded shortly. She waited as he attacked the eggs with the whisk, holding it oddly, like a sword. She let herself examine him fully, forcing herself to look past the stunning exterior to see him as a healer would. He looked a little tired, but not as badly as she would have expected, especially regarding his night wanderings.

He had not responded to her words yet. She kept her eyes on him in friendly expectation. You will answer me.

He swallowed. Then nodded again. "The air is … clean."

Her smile became a bit fixed. Edmund had said that about the Dales. She understood that notion perfectly well, but the cleanliness and barrenness of the dales also meant loneliness and solitude. She found them beautiful, of course, but there ought to be more to life than seeking emptiness in lieu of tranquility.

She began again. "You walk a great deal in London, I imagine. Walking is very helpful. Calming, I would say. "

He neither agreed nor disagreed with her assumption of his origin. He looked down at the bowl and released it, the enemy eggs well and truly trounced by his lethal whisk. His fingers traced the wood grain of her table. He slowly spread his flat palms down on the well-sanded surface.

He did not seem agitated, however, so Gemma decided to push him a little. "Don't you think?"

The glance he gave her was positively hunted. But he lifted his chin and met her eyes. "Helps."

"What does it help with?"

"Sleep." He said it with finality and she knew she would get nothing more from him on that topic. Still, she felt the glow of triumph for luring him to admit that much. Onward.

"I am Mrs. Gemma Oaks. I'm a widow. My husband was Dr. Edmund Oakes, who served as physician for Swaledale and beyond."

He stared at her for a long moment. She tilted her head. "How long has it been since you've met someone new and had to tell them your name?"

His jaw dropped open a bit and he seemed about to speak. Just then Mr. Bing bustled into the room with the dog close behind.

Mr. Bing tried to shut her out. "Aye then, dog! Missus Oakes don't need you trackin' up her kitchen!"

"Oh, her feet aren't any dirtier than your boots, Mr. Bing." Gemma set down her bowl. "Good morning, Topknot! I have something for you." Gemma turned and fetched a beef bone from this week's broth from the marble shelf of the larder. She knelt and held it out. "Here you go, pretty girl," she coaxed sweetly.

Topknot came closer but reached out only as far as absolutely necessary. She primly took the bone between her teeth, as far from Gemma's hand as she could get. Once Gemma had pulled her hand back, Topknot whirled back to the door. She pressed her forehead to the wood and waited.