7 Pay the Piper by Kate Kingsbury Page B

good doctor was at home, unless some poor soul had called him out on an emergency.
    She paused at the gate as Samuel called out, “Would you like me to wait, mum?”
    “I shall be but a moment.” She had no intention of going inside the cottage, and it was much too cold to stand for long outside of it. Already the first stars could be seen in the rapidly darkening sky. It would be cold and frosty that night, with perhaps a hint of snow in the wind.
    Shivering at the thought, Cecily made her way up the path to the porch. Her shoes crunched in the gravel, apparentlyalerting the doctor to her presence, as the door opened before she reached it.
    “Cecily, my dear! What a very great pleasure, as always.” He took her proffered hand and pressed his lips to her gloved fingers. “Though I trust you are not ill? I hope this is a social visit?”
    “I am quite well, Doctor,” Cecily assured him. Withdrawing her hand from his hold, she added, “Though I must confess, this is not entirely a social call.”
    Dr. Prestwick shook his handsome head. “I feared as much. But do please come inside, out of this miserable weather. As much as I should be delighted for an excuse to see you again, I prefer it not to be in my surgery.”
    “Thank you, Doctor, but I shall not take up too much of your time. Just long enough for you to give me the answers to a question or two.”
    Kevin Prestwick’s dark brown eyes regarded her solemnly. “In the first place, my dear, I thought we were well enough acquainted for you to call me by my Christian name. In the second place, you could never take up too much of my time. I find your charming presence both stimulating and thoroughly fascinating.”
    “Thank you, Doctor, but—”
    “Kevin, if you remember. And in the third place, if the questions you refer to have anything to do with the recent murder of Peter Stewart, you know full well that I am unable to give you the answers.”
    Cecily pursed her lips. “I’m quite sure, Kevin, that you can tell me what I need to know without violating any of Inspector Cranshaw’s illogical regulations.”
    Dr. Prestwick uttered an audible sigh. “Perhaps if you were to tell me the reason for your interest?”
    She hesitated, then said quietly, “I believe that P.C. Northcott has arrested the wrong man.”
    For a moment longer the doctor continued to regard her with a serious expression, then his engaging smile brightened his face. “Ah, Cecily, as always I am powerless whenyou look at me with such charming appeal. Come inside and I will tell you what little information I am permitted to give you.”
    Cecily shook her head, sending a backward glance over her shoulder. “Samuel is waiting. In any case, I prefer not to risk your reputation, Kevin. You know how tongues wag in this village. Entertaining a widow alone in your cottage would no doubt be the subject of conversation in every drawing room by morning.”
    Dr. Prestwick sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. “As always, you are quite right, my dear. As I have said before, were it only my reputation to worry about, I would not care one whit, but I will do nothing to besmirch your impeccable standing in Badgers End.”
    Cecily had to smile. “I’m not so sure it’s all that impeccable. I have been known to kick over the traces now and again.”
    “So I have heard. I greatly admire a woman who can fly in the face of convention. I only wish it could be me with whom you defy the proprieties, instead of that granite-faced manager of yours.”
    Cecily raised her eyebrows. “Why, Kevin, I am surprised at you. Everyone knows that Baxter was appointed my protector by my late husband. He is simply doing his duty, at considerable risk at times.”
    “To his reputation or his health?” Dr. Prestwick asked dryly.
    “Both, very likely,” Cecily admitted. “I’m afraid that Baxter is far more concerned with decorum than I, and it is with a great deal of reluctance that he accompanies me in my