The Greatest of Sins. Christine Merrill

      His expression was frozen and his tone wooden. He looked and sounded as false as she felt, trying to snare him with her feminine wiles. He paused, wetting his lips before speaking again, as though it had been necessary to prepare himself for the answer. ‘Now when is this wedding you are so eager for me to attend?’

      She smiled in triumph. ‘I really have no idea. I have not said yes, you remember. But if you mean to leave as soon as I am wed, I suspect it shall take me some time to decide.’

      He lurched forwards as though about to give her a good shaking for her impudence, then regained control and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Evelyn, I swear, your behaviour is enough to drive a sane man to madness.’

      ‘So I have been told,’ she said with another smile. ‘It is good to see that you are not unaffected by it.’ She took a step closer to him, pressing her advantage. ‘We were quite close at one time, though you work very hard to deny it.’

      ‘Like siblings,’ he said firmly.

      She shook her head. He must have known how she’d felt about him. She had made no effort to hide her love. But he had given her no chance to elicit some promise from him, before he went off to school, so that she would know to wait for his return. Now that they were alone, there would be no better time. ‘You were always more than a brother to me, Sam.’

      ‘But you were always my dear little sister,’ he said, stubbornly. ‘And I am very proud to think that I will soon have to call you “Your Grace”. Or I will once you stop stringing poor St Aldric along.’

      ‘I cannot accept him while there is still a question as to where my heart might lie,’ she said.

      He flinched. ‘Surely such questions were answered long ago, Evelyn.’

      ‘When you left me with no explanation?’ she supplied.

      ‘You knew I was to go away to school.’

      ‘But I did not expect you to run the whole way. Nor did I expect you to run again today, in the middle of a simple conversation about your future.’

      ‘A future you wished to choose for me,’ he reminded her.

      ‘And you are seeking a different one?’ Perhaps it was with some other girl that felt the same way as she did. If it was another woman, why could he not just tell her? If it was to spare her pain, he had misjudged the situation. A simple answer for this rejection was bound to be better than not knowing.

      And if there was another, the key to his absence was right here in the room with him. The other woman, if she was smart, would not have wanted him to forget that someone waited for his return. There must be a lock of hair, a miniature or some other token of her affection. Eve had but to find it and understand. And there before her was the sea chest and doctor’s bag, waiting to be explored.

      She trailed her fingers along the edge of the open chest and then turned to it suddenly, dropping to her knees to examine the contents.

      There was no sign of another woman here. The box in front of her contained nothing but the tools of his profession.

      It was novel enough that he had a trade, for most gentlemen did not. Eve tended the folks around their country home quite efficiently without a doctor’s help, but she did it with little more than instinct, herbs and a needle and thread from her sewing box. It was charity and not real work at all.

      But here before her were all the things that a trained physician might have at his disposal. To Eve, it was a revelation. She had read about the uses of such instruments in the books on medicine that she had got, but she had never seen them.

      These were arrayed neatly, carefully, immaculate in their cleanliness and as ordered as idols in a temple. Lancets with smooth tortoiseshell handles, the gleaming steel of bone saws and drills, the terrifying razor edge of scalpels and the curved needles threaded with silk and gut. Beneath them, in neat rows, were cobalt-blue medicine bottles and the weird globes of the leech jars.

      The third layer was a collection of more esoteric items, harder to pack, but obviously well used. A syringe made of hollow bone, ivory-and-silver medicine spoons and forceps. She examined each one in turn.

      ‘Are you searching for something, Evelyn?’ Sam had been so silent that she had almost forgotten him as she explored. But it seemed that her curiosity had relaxed him. He was no longer pinned to the wall, but standing just behind her. His voice had changed as well. The strangled desperation had changed to a familiar combination of disapproval, amusement, resignation and affection.

      She wanted to turn and answer honestly. Yes, I am searching for the key to understanding you. Instead, she was almost as truthful. ‘I am curious about your profession.’ She turned to face him and sat on the floor, her legs tucked under.

      ‘And once again, you prove that the years have not changed you. You always were a horrible little snoop.’ He relaxed enough to sit down on the end of the bed. ‘Is there anything you wish me to explain?’

      ‘I know most of them,’ she admitted.

      ‘You do?’ This seemed to surprise him.

      ‘I have studied,’ she admitted. ‘I ordered the same texts you used in Edinburgh and read them cover to cover.’

      Another man might have questioned her ability to understand them. But all that Sam said was, ‘Does your father know?’

      It was difficult to meet his gaze and admit the truth. Eve had not thought of herself as a deceptive person, when he had left her. Although she often disagreed with her father, she never set out to disobey him. But she had suspected in this it would be necessary and had kept the extent of her knowledge a secret from him. ‘You know he does not. He would never have approved of it. He thinks I tend to the sick in the same way other women do, by bringing broth and good wishes, and the sort of herbal tinctures that Mother would have used had she survived. But I prefer to be more scientific about it.’ Then a thought occurred to her. ‘You will not tell him, will you?’

      Sam laughed. ‘Of course not.’ And then he grew serious. ‘Nor will I tell St Aldric. I doubt he is expecting a wife with such outré hobbies.’

      If Sam loved her as she hoped, he could use the information to his advantage and spoil her chances with the duke. Instead, he was being noble. She sighed. ‘The ways of men are very confusing. They have no care if we women meddle with illnesses, as long as we do it in ignorance. Do they not want people to recover?’ She tipped her head to the side and watched Sam for an honest reaction as she asked the next question. ‘What do you think of my dabbling? Am I wrong to want to practise what I can read clear on the page?’