He glanced toward the passage and then turned back to her with a question in his eyes. She supposed she could pretend she didn't know what he was asking. She could force him to say it out loud, which would surely be good for him, but she took pity on him. He had been most willing and generous with his assistance thus far.

"Anything will do," she said gently. "Anything at all, except for that one book on blood diseases and the use of leeches. That one is, I fear, not ideal after-dinner entertainment."

He did not smile at her joke, but only nodded and strode toward the study. She'd barely taken a single sip of her tea when he returned with a volume in his hand. Had he indeed plucked "anything" off the shelf, or had he seen a favorite immediately? Everything he did begged a question, or six. He was a mystery, a puzzle, a present to be unwrapped. Oh, to see what lay underneath!

Which was a most improper thought for a practitioner to have of her patient! Really, Gemma!

Remained focused. He is a patient. And this is meant to be a remedy.

"Shakespeare!" She said with surprise when he handed her the volume. At the implied question in her astonishment, he reached to take it back, presumably to fetch her something else, but she quickly pulled it out of range.

"No, this is lovely. The Sonnets are particular favorite of mine." Well, she remembered them fondly anyway, the single time she had read them, in another place, another life before the dales. Yorkshire shepherds and farmers did not often partake in poetry reading. They preferred the Christmas tableau and "Punch and Judy" and who didn't love a genuinely accomplished juggler?

Now for the somewhat underhanded part of her plan. She pressed her fingertips to her temple and squinted her eyes. "Oh dear. I fear I have taken the headache. Perhaps reading was not such a fortunate notion after all."

Mr. Worthington gazed at her for a very long moment. She wondered what sort of battle carried on behind those shadowed eyes. Was even the smallest thing so difficult in the dark and isolated world in which he lived?

She smiled at him kindly and reassured him with a direct request. "Would you read to me for little while, until the tea works upon my pains?"

Once set upon a task, Mr. Worthington was a most thoughtful and helpful person. This she had noticed today while watching him work with Mr. Bing. She was not surprised when he obediently opened the book to a random page and clearing his throat, began to read aloud.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May."