Free To Trust a Thief by Michelle McLean Page B

else sees that. Lady Courtland will confiscate it if she finds you are disobeying the rule against jewelry.”
    She seemed to relax a bit. Interesting. She didn’t want him curious about it but seemed to have no problem with him thinking she was purposely breaking the rules. What was the little minx hiding? He might need to take a closer look at that necklace. He kept his face passive as he gestured to the closed study door. “Shall we?”
    “I’m quite capable of making it another five feet without assistance.”
    “I’m sure you are.” He rapped on the door, opening it at Lady Courtland’s muted “Enter.”
    “After you.”
    Min’s lips clamped against the angry retort that must have been burning on her tongue. Instead of unleashing it, she brushed past him into the room.
    Dr. Carmichael sat on one of the floral-backed chairs, a teacup raised halfway to his lips. He focused on Min in surprise.
    Lady Courtland’s cup clinked in its saucer. “Mr. Westley, Minuette. Is there a problem?”
    Bryant spoke before Min could open her mouth. “I’m afraid Miss Sinclair has had a bit of an accident. She fell while walking in the gardens and grazed her hands. I thought the good doctor should take a look at them.”
    Arthur hurried to Min’s side and ushered her into a chair. Bryant followed, standing beside Min. Dr. Carmichael glanced at him but ignored him otherwise. He knelt in front of Min, muttering as he unwound the makeshift bandages. A maid scurried off to the kitchens with orders for hot water and rags.
    Min kept her attention on her hands while the doctor began to pick out pieces of rock from her torn skin. His hands were quick and gentle but Min still writhed when he dug out a well-embedded piece. Bryant’s gut twisted with the urge to fling the doctor away from her.
    “You did this falling in the garden?”
    “Yes, she did,” Bryant answered.
    This time Dr. Carmichael’s attention wasn’t so fleeting. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and something Bryant could swear was anger. The doctor’s gaze flicked to Lady Courtland, who was busy ushering curious students out of the room, before returning to Bryant.
    “It must have been a terrible fall indeed if it’s rendered Miss Sinclair incapable of speech,” he said, his voice pitched low enough only Bryant and Min could hear.
    “Arthur,” Min murmured. The doctor’s name on her lips sent another sharp stab to Bryant’s gut. His jaw clenched.
    “One of you had better tell me what really happened,” the doctor said, smoothing some sort of salve over the cuts in Min’s palms.
    “And what makes you think anything other than a simple spill in the gardens took place?” Bryant asked, earning himself a glare from Min.
    “For one thing, this ,” the doctor said, holding up a piece of bloody rubble, “is not a rock. It’s a bit of masonry with the mortar still attached.” He dropped it back in the bowl holding the old bandages and other bits of debris. “And secondly, Miss Sinclair hasn’t spoken one word since she entered this room and that is entirely unlike her. I can always tell when she’s lying, and it’s even more apparent when she refuses to say anything at all. So, I’ll say again, someone had better tell me what really happened.”
    “Arthur, not now.” Min sat forward in her chair. “I’ll tell you toni—”
    Bryant clamped a hand onto her shoulder and pulled her back into the chair, cutting her off.
    “There is nothing else to tell.” Bryant’s eyes glared daggers at the man crouched at Min’s feet. If he could have found a reason to pummel the good doctor where he sat, he would have gladly done so. He vaguely recognized that he was overreacting, but he didn’t want Min alone with the doctor she addressed by his Christian name, telling him secrets that belonged to her and Bryant alone.
    The doctor stood and moved close enough that there was only a whisper of air between them. “Remove your hand from my fiancée, Mr. Westley.