"Nonsense, Mariah. Your father is more than capable of handling the patients alone, as he has been doing since long before you came along. And as for my objections, though I stand by my concerns, it's no use worrying about them now since you've already consented to do it. Now—" She bustled over and pulled the covers from Mariah's head. "—up you get and off you go. It will do you no good to have his servants tell him that you did not do a good job."
Last night when Mariah had returned she had purposefully neglected to mention that Mr. Haverton was in fact in residence at the Manor. If she had done, no doubt she would have been sent off with Lillianne trailing behind her, especially if she were to tell her mother that Mr. Haverton was unattached. And devilishly handsome.
She did wonder momentarily if she should tell Mama about her kiss. Just to watch and see if her head would actually explode. But then, she reasoned that on balance it probably was a scientific impossibility for a human head to explode from anger and all she'd be left with is a lifetime of pious sermons and quite possibly a demand that she marry the man.
And as much as the thoughts of marriage appealed because it meant she could do all sorts of things with him, there were plenty of reasons why she didn't want that.
For one thing, she did not know him. For another he was an arrogant brute. And though she had become too preoccupied with his lips to think overly long on their conversation yesterday, throughout her sleepless night she had thought about everything he'd said in great detail.
His life was complicated, he'd said.
He had dependents coming to live with him, Mrs. Yates had said.
It didn't sound good. Intriguing, but not good.
Perhaps she should tell Mama now that Mr. Haverton was here. No doubt Mama would insist that she cease travelling to the house of a single gentleman immediately and then all her problems would be solved.
Tempting though the thought was, however, Mariah knew she would not do it. Not least because her mother would berate her for having spent the day there yesterday.
Besides, she couldn't avoid the man forever. But for today at least she most certainly could. At least until she worked out how to act normally around him and not throw herself at him the moment she saw him.
As well as that, she should probably apologise for her tantrum yesterday evening.
Thinking logically about it, Mariah guessed that he had meant no insult when he had said she was obviously an innocent. No doubt he was only trying to reassure her that he did not think she was the most light-skirted hussy he'd ever come across.
But to apologise meant having to face him and that was something that would have to wait, on account of her excruciating mortification.
Her mother had marched out of the room calling for Martha to come and assist Mariah as she went.
So, she was getting up then, thought Mariah snippily before sighing in defeat.
Fine. She would get up and dressed but she would not, under any circumstances whatsoever, see Brandon Haverton today.
"Miss Bolton," Mariah's heart almost gave out at the sound of a now familiar masculine voice.
Looking up from the book she'd been reading, she felt the breath leave her body at the mere sight of him standing there.
He looked so dashing in his tight breeches, dark blue coat that did nothing to hide the broadness of his shoulders and shiny Hessians.
Mariah had been convinced that staying at home meant she would not have to face her brooding, irritating, gorgeous employer. But fate, it seemed, had a sick sense of humour.
"How did you find me?" she blurted out.
"Were you in hiding?"
"No, of course not. But—"
"I went to your father's surgery cum apothecary first. A very unusual setup, I must say. I have never seen the two professions combined."
"Yes, well, my uncle was the original apothecary but he moved to Edinburgh with his wife so my father took over."
"Your father or you?"
Mariah started at the question.
Being from London, Mr. Haverton would no doubt be extremely disapproving of her profession. And it wasn't even a profession, not really. She didn't get paid for it, though Lord knew she should have really since most of the work in the apothecary was done by her.
But still. From a respectability point of view, and from a not having one's mother descend into a fit of despair and mourning point of view, it wasn't a profession. A hobby, more like.
"I help out," she admitted now, carefully. "I have an interest in medicine and herbs and healing, and my father is good enough to indulge me."
"Ah, I understand," he said, then added with a mischievous glint in his eyes; "I was only asking because of the sea of the sick and infirm demanding your presence just now."
"What? Who?"
"I believe I have just made the rather loud acquaintance of a Mrs. Callahan, a Mr. Davies and a Miss Thornsworth."
"Oh, blast!" Mariah said with feeling as she jumped from her chair, uncaring of the fact that she had used such language in front of him. "They're going to come here then."
"They are?" he asked, brows raised.
"Yes, they are. They always do on the rare occasions that I'm not there."