Hello Stranger (The Ravenels #4)(22)

Which reminded her about the jail break-in.

“I needn’t ask what you’ve been doing since we last met,” she said, “since I read an account of your latest exploit in the Police Gazette.”

“What exploit?”

“Breaking into the holding jail,” she chided. “Attacking those three soldiers. It was very wrong of you, and quite unnecessary.”

“I didn’t attack them. There was a bit of a scuffle at first, but that was only to get their attention while I spent a few minutes blistering their ears.”

“You broke in to scold them?” she asked skeptically.

“I made it clear that any man who tries to harm you will have me beating hell’s torment on him. And if I ever found out they attacked another woman, I told them I’d—” He broke off, apparently thinking better of what he’d been about to say. “Well, I made them afraid to do it again.”

“And that’s why you were described as an unknown offender? Because they were too terrified to identify you?”

“I’m good at scaring people,” he said.

“Apparently, you’ve appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner. But all of that should be left in the hands of the British system of justice.”

“The law doesn’t always work when it comes to men like that. All they understand is fear and retaliation.” Ransom paused. “If I had a conscience, it wouldn’t be troubled over those bastards. Now, tell me about your visit to the workhouse.”

As they walked, Garrett told him about the patients she’d seen in the infirmary, and her worries about the poor conditions of the place. The improper diet of mostly porridge and bread was especially harmful for children, for without sufficient nourishment, their growth would be permanently stunted and they would be vulnerable to disease. And yet her appeals to the workhouse officials had fallen on deaf ears.

“They said if workhouse food were improved, too many people would be pushing their way in to obtain it.”

“They say the same about prison food,” Ransom said, darkly amused. “Make it too good, the argument goes, and people will commit crimes just to have it. But no one who’s ever found himself on the wrong side of a prison door would ever say that. And the only crime someone commits to end up in a workhouse is to be poor.”

“Obviously some common sense is needed,” Garrett said, “which is why I’ve decided to go over their heads. I’m compiling a report for the Home Secretary’s Office and the Local Government Board, to explain in detail why workhouse administrators should adopt a minimum set of standards. It’s a matter of public health.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “As busy as a stocking full of fleas,” he murmured. “Do you ever make time to enjoy yourself, Doctor?”

“I enjoy my work.”

“I meant kicking up your heels now and then.”

“I had a similar conversation with Dr. Havelock earlier today,” Garrett said with a rueful laugh. “He called me a wet blanket. I suppose you’d agree with him.”

Ransom let out a soft breath of amusement. “Do you, now?” he asked. “A wet blanket smothers fire. You’re what starts the fire.”

That threw her off guard. “Of course, I’m an infamous temptress,” she said sardonically. “Anyone could see that.”

“You think I’m mocking you?”

“Mr. Ransom, it’s one thing for you to pay me a reasonable compliment, but it’s quite another to carry on as if I were Cleopatra.”

Instead of looking chastened or abashed, Ransom regarded her with a touch of perplexed annoyance. “Come with me,” he muttered, taking her arm and urging her toward a narrow lane, where a row of costermongers’ wagons and carts had been turned on their ends and chained together, with their shafts aimed upward. A strong aroma of toasted herring and burnt chestnuts wafted from a lodging house nearby.

“Into a dark alley? I think not.”

“I’d rather not discuss this on the street.”

“There’s no need to discuss it. I’ve made my point.”

“And now I’m after making one.” Ransom’s grip on her arm was very firm. The only reason she didn’t twist away was that she was curious about what he would say.

Guiding her into the shadows of an empty doorstep, Ransom set down her bag and cane, and turned toward her. “Whatever else you may think about me,” he said gruffly, “I would never play that kind of game with you. The devil knows how you could doubt my attraction to you after our lesson at Baujart’s. Or didn’t you notice that being near you made me as randy as a prize bull?”

“I noticed,” Garrett whispered sharply. “However, the male erection isn’t always caused by sexual desire.”

His face went blank. “What are you talking about?”

“Spontaneous priapism can be caused by scrotal chafing, traumatic injury to the perineum, a flare-up of gout, an inflamed prostatic duct—” Her list was interrupted as Ransom hauled her against him, front to front.

She was alarmed to feel his entire body shaking. It wasn’t until she heard a ragged chuckle near her ear that she realized he was struggling not to laugh.

“Why is that funny?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest. He didn’t reply, couldn’t, only shook his head vehemently and continued to wheeze. Nettled, she said, “As a physician, I can assure you there’s nothing humorous about involuntary erections.”