“Right now I prefer to forget them.”

“A woman can know things.” She squared her shoulders, hot indignation burning through her, eating at her composure. “We are not merely decorative creatures. We can be more than wives a-and brood mares!”

His dark eyebrows winged high. “I don’t doubt the intelligence of women . . . I merely doubt your integrity. And as for your knowledge, I do not trust in it.”

A hissed breath escaped her.

He continued, “As soon as I reach London, I shall be writing to Durham and all those I once recommended you to so that no one else falls victim to your trickery.” He held aloft a finger. “Perhaps I’ll even write to your local lord mayor and let him know of the deceiver he has in his community.”

“You’ll . . . expose me?” She flattened a hand against her chest. She had not thought . . . not imagined . . .

“For the protection of all, yes.” He scanned the gardens again, clearly moving on in his mind from thoughts of her. He had no concern at the effect of his words. He would ruin her. He thought her that deserving of that. “Is there a gate where I might exit from the garden?” He only wanted to leave in the speediest way possible.

Her mind whirred, her heart racing. If he destroyed her reputation at Brambledon and no one came to her for her services, then what would she have? What would she do with herself? What would she be?

Heavens, the village might have to get an actual doctor to replace her father if they no longer had faith in her.

“Oh, you sanctimonious prig!”

He scanned the garden anew, seemingly indifferent to her accusation as he searched. “Ah. I see a gate. Well then.” He looked back at her.

Her reputation as a healer in these parts meant everything to her. She could not lose that. He could not take that from her. She had to find a way to stop him.

He gave a curt wave. “I’m away then.”

She glared at him—not that it appeared to affect him. He turned smartly on his heels. She scowled after him, loathing warring with a sharp sense of desperation inside her.

She had to prove to him that she knew what she was about. Then he would forget all about her subterfuge. He would forget and forgive and she could go on as normal with her reputation intact.

Chapter 7

Constantine was intercepted at the front of the grand house. His hopes of slipping away without having to encounter another member of the household were dashed, unfortunately.

“Sinclair,” Warrington hailed, stepping in front of him. Clearly the man had been lying in wait, knowing he would depart through the garden.