He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It doesn’t upset me.”

Gemma threaded her arm through his. “I’m pleased as plums to hear you say that.” She smiled at him, her dimples appearing, but then almost immediately assumed an overly dramatic look of displeasure. “I forgot. We’s boiling mad at you.” She pulled her arm free and assumed a combative posture that no one would have believed was truly aggressive.

Oh, how she lightened every situation. He’d missed that during the years she’d been away.

“You’ve not only denied me a friend, Dr. Baz,” Móirín said, “but I’ve discovered Gemma is quite adept at giving Brogan a spot of difficulty, which is something for which I’ve needed a partner these ages.”

“There are plenty of us that do that on the regular,” Barnabus said.

“None of you do it well,” Móirín replied with her familiar dry humor.

It made sense to Barnabus that she and Gemma had become fast friends. Gemma hailed from Southwark, an area of Town where being hardened and fierce was the only way a person survived. Furthermore, she’d grown up a Kincaid. How she’d managed to escape from that heritage with any degree of tenderness remaining, he didn’t know.

And everyone knew Móirín was always armed and formidable to the point that even the most violent roughs would be hard-pressed to match her fearsomeness.

To Gemma, Móirín said, “Are you at Doc’s now to stay? It’d be good to know where to go when I invite m’self to supper.”

Gemma glanced at Barnabus. “I ain’t certain.”

Móirín looked to him, clearly thinking he knew the answer.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “Gemma comes and goes as she pleases.”

Gemma smiled, but there was something strange in it. Something almost like hurt. Did she think he was poking fun at her? He wasn’t. He’d offered that explanation all day to anyone who asked. It was easier than explaining that she’d left because their marriage simply wasn’t working, that he wasn’t what she wanted and didn’t know if he’d ever be, that she preferred living in poverty in Wandsworth to living with him.

“Well, you’re welcome to call on me whenever you’d like, no matter where it is you’re calling home,” Móirín said. “And that ’tisn’t an offer I make lightly.”

Gemma looked at him, and Barnabus nodded. “If Móirín’s inviting you, that’s a fine commentary on how highly she thinks of you.”

That seemed to please Gemma to her very bones. With a broad, dimpled smile, she slipped over next to Kumar’s wife and assisted in handing out handfuls of vegetables.