Not Always a Saint by Mary Jo Putney

I’ve always suspected that a female midwife has a better respect and understanding for the territory.”
    â€œHow remarkably enlightened you are,” she said with admiration. His passion for his work was obvious, and it made him even more attractive. She shouldn’t enjoy the growing warmth between them, but how dangerous could it be when they were in a room full of people? “Have you been successful at combining your various skills?”
    He grinned, and she realized that he was younger than she’d thought. Only a few years older than she was. “That depends on how you define success,” he replied. “I never lack for patients, but since I run a free infirmary, that’s not surprising.”
    She knew about his infirmary, but better to pretend she didn’t. “I imagine all kinds of patients come seeking help.”
    â€œExactly. I might not be as knowledgeable about midwifery as Lady Julia, but if I’m the only medical help available when a baby comes, I’ll do my best. I haven’t lost a mother yet,” he said seriously. “I can also set bones and compound medications if necessary, though again, an experienced bonesetter or apothecary would be better.”
    The man was a saint in a world that could use more like him. “You are wasted as a lord,” she said. “What do lords contribute to society, after all? While a good and versatile doctor like you saves lives. What is most challenging in your work?”
    â€œKnowing when to do nothing,” he said wryly. “Hippocrates said physicians should first do no harm, but it’s difficult to know when it’s best to act, and when it’s best to step away.”
    â€œI’ve never thought of that,” Jessie said slowly. “When seeing a person in distress, the first impulse is to help. But it’s true that if left to its own devices, a body will often heal itself.”
    â€œAnd medical treatment will sometimes make a condition worse.” His mouth twisted. “But often one doesn’t know if that’s the case until it’s too late.”
    She wondered how many times he’d guessed wrong about a treatment and still felt guilty about the results. Even once would be too often. “I see that it takes courage to be a doctor.”
    â€œCourage or arrogance,” he agreed with a self-deprecating smile.
    â€œAre you involved with the Sisters Foundation? Mariah and Lady Julia told me that your sister is a valuable part of the organization.”
    â€œLaurel and I worked together, but Zion House, the women’s sanctuary, was primarily hers,” he explained. “I supported it and provided medical treatment, of course. I also did the pastoral work. Counseling, baptism, funerals, and even some weddings.”
    His words were like a splash of ice water on the warmth that had been growing between them. This was a man she shouldn’t even be talking to. “You’re a vicar as well as everything else?” she said coldly. “I’m surprised you sleep at all. If you’ll excuse me, I want to meet Lady Agnes. I’ve heard so much about her.”
    She turned and walked away, but she could feel his gaze on her retreating back. With any luck, her rudeness would discourage him from pursuing a further acquaintance.
    But she feared she wouldn’t be so lucky. Not when so much unspoken tension had thrummed between them.
    Â 
    Â 
    After the guests left, Daniel, Laurel, and Kirkland settled in the drawing room to unwind and discuss the evening. Accepting a glass of claret from Kirkland, Daniel said, “Thank you for having this dinner party, Kirkland. It was a real pleasure to see so many old schoolmates. They all seem to be doing well.”
    Laurel laughed. “Once or twice I caught Lady Agnes surveying the room with the satisfied expression of a farmer pleased with her crops.”
    Both men joined her laughter. “She has