She looked at him with a smile, quite a casual one, but not so slight as to appear cool or studied.

"Have you a case which troubles you, a new one?”

Would he retreat into that excuse, or was it the truth anyway? She had left the way open for him.

"No," he said quite directly. "I suppose in a sense it has to do with law, but it was most certainly not the legal aspect of it which was on my mind.”

This time she did not look at him. "The legal aspect of what?”

"Of what concerns me." He put his arm on her back to guide her through the throng of people, and she felt the warmth of it ripple through her.

It was a safe feeling, disturbingly comfortable. Why should comfort disturb her? That was ridiculous!

Because it would be so easy to get used to. The gentleness, the sweetness of it was overwhelmingly tempting. It was like coming into sunlight and suddenly realising how chilled you had been.

"Hester?”

"Yes?”

"Perhaps this is not really the best place, but…”

Before he could finish what he was about to say, he was accosted by a large man with sweeping silver hair and an avuncular manner.

"My goodness, Rathbone, you are miles away, man! I swear I have seen you pass half a dozen acquaintances as if you were unaware of their existence! Do I credit that to your charming companion, or a particularly challenging case? You do seem to select the very devil of the lot of them!”

Rathbone blinked slightly. It was something very few situations had ever caused him to do.

"To my companion, of course," he replied without hesitation. "Hester, may I introduce Mr. Justice Charles? Miss Hester Latterly.”

"Ah!" Charles said with satisfaction. "Now I recognise you, ma'am.

You are the remarkable young lady who uncovered such damning evidence in the Rostova case. In the Crimea, weren't you? Extraordinary! How the world is changing. Not actually sure I care for it, but no choice, I suppose. Make the best of it, eh?”

At another time she would have challenged him as to what he meant. Did he disapprove of women having the opportunity to make such a contribution as Florence Nightingale had? To their freedom? Their use of knowledge and authority, and the power it gave them, even if only temporarily? Such an attitude infuriated her. It was antiquated, blind, rooted in privilege and ignorance. It was worse than unjust, it was dangerous. It was precisely that sort of blinkered idiocy which had kept inadequate men in charge of the battles in the Crimea, and cost countless men their lives.

She drew in her breath to begin the assault, then remembered Rathbone standing so close to her he was actually touching her elbow; and she let out her breath in a sigh. It would embarrass him dreadfully, even if in truth he half agreed with her.

"I am afraid we are all in that situation, sir," she said sweetly.

"There is a good deal I am quite certain I do not care for, but I have not yet found a way of altering it.”

"Not for want of seeking!" Rathbone said drily when they had bidden Mr. Justice Charles good evening and moved a few yards away. "You were remarkably tactful to him! I expected you to take him thoroughly to task for his old-fashioned views.”

"Do you think it would have changed his mind one iota?" she asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

"No, my dear, I don't," he said with a smile, on the verge of laughter.

"But that is the first time I have seen such a consideration halt you.”

"Then perhaps the world really is changing?" she suggested.

"Please do not allow it to change too much," he said with a gentleness that amazed her. "I appreciate the tact it has its place but I should not like you to become like everyone else. I really care for you very much exactly as you are." He put his hand on hers lightly. "Even if at times it alarms me. Perhaps it is good to be disturbed now and again? One can become complacent.”

"I have never thought of you as complacent!”

"Yes, you have. But I assure you, you would be wrong if you thought so now. I have never been less comfortable or less certain of myself in my life.”

Suddenly she was not certain either. Confusion made her think of Monk.

She liked Rathbone immensely. There was something in him which was uniquely valuable. Monk was elusive, unyielding, at times arbitrary and cold. But she could not turn away from him. She did not wish Rathbone to say anything which would require an answer.

Her heart was quieteragain. She smiled and put up her hand to touch his cheek.

"Then let us forget yesterday and tomorrow, and simply be certain that this evening is an island of friendship, and a trust of which there is no doubt at all. I have no idea what the play is about either, but since the audience is laughing every few moments, I expect it is just as witty as they say.”

He took a deep breath and smiled back at her. There was a look in his face of sudden ease. He bent forward and took her hand where it rested against his cheek and put it to his lips.

"I should enjoy that enormously.”

When Dr. Wade called the next day he was accompanied by his sister, Eglantyne, who expressed the same concern for Sylvestra as before, coming to her with a kind of silent understanding which Hester now appreciated more than on the previous occasion. Then it had seemed as if she were at a loss for what to say. Looking at her more closely, it now appeared instead to be a knowledge that no words would serve any purpose, they might end in belittling what was too large for everyday speech.

When they had gone together into the withdrawing room, Hester looked at Corriden Wade. He was quite obviously tired and the strain was showing in the lines of weariness around his mouth and eyes. There was no longer the same energy in his bearing.

"Can I help you at all, Dr. Wade?" she asked gravely. "Surely there must be something I can do to lessen the burden upon you? I imagine you have many other patients, both in hospital and in their homes." She searched his eyes. "When did you last take any thought for yourself?”

He stared at her as if for a moment he was not sure what she meant.

"Dr. Wade?”

He smiled, and his face altered completely. The dejection and anxiety vanished, although nothing could mask the tiredness in him.

"How generous of you, Miss Latterly," he said quietly. "I apologise for allowing my own feelings to be so obvious. It is not a quality I intend, or admire. I admit, this case does trouble me deeply. As you have no doubt observed, both my sister and I are very fond of the whole family." A shadow of pain crossed his eyes, and the surprise of it was naked to see. "I still find it hard to accept that Leighton…

. Mr. Duff… is dead. I had known him for years. We had shared…

a great deal. That it should all end…" He took a deep breath."…

. like this… is appalling. Rhys is much more than a patient to me.

I know…" He made a slight gesture with his hands. "I know a good doctor, or a good nurse, should not allow themselves to become personally involved with anyone they treat. It can affect their judgement to offer the best care possible. Relatives can lend sympathy and grief, moral support and love. They look to us to provide the best professional treatment, not emotion. I know all this as well as anyone. Still I cannot help being moved by Rhys's plight.”

"And I too," she confessed. "I don't think anyone expects us not to care. How could we dedicate our time to helping the sick and injured, if we did not care?”

He looked at her closely for several moments.

"You are a remarkable woman, Miss Latterly. And of course you are right. I shall go up and see Rhys. Perhaps you will keep the ladies company, and…”

"Yes?" She was now used to his pattern of seeing Rhys alone, and no longer questioned it.

"Please, do not offer them too much encouragement. I do not know if he is progressing as well as I had hoped. His outer wounds are healing, but he seems to have no energy, no will to recover. I detect very little returning strength, and that disturbs me. Can you tell me if I have missed something, Miss Latterly?”