You Again by Carolyn Scott

Georgiana's father and a handful of others understood the long-term damage it did to mind and body.  She'd continued his work after his death because, quite simply, what else could a woman in her late twenties with no allowance and no one to support her do to keep poverty at bay?  Besides, she liked being useful and she liked helping people, even those who weren't always aware they needed help.
    "He commissioned me because he believes I can cure you of your addiction," she said.  "It's as simple as that."
    "Is it?  The opium helps me sleep and sleep helps me to function, not the opposite.  Have you asked yourself why Sir Oswyn would want me working at less than my best?"  His blue eyes drilled into her.  Challenging.  Testing?  "I've also given my resignation.  Did he tell you that?"
    He had not.  It would seem Sir Oswyn hadn't been entirely honest about everything.  She was not surprised.
    "So why send you at all?"  Mr. Redcliff's question echoed her own thoughts.  "That, Miss Appleby, is what you should be asking."
    "Perhaps he is concerned for your welfare," she said.  Redcliff snorted.  "As your employer he is, after all, responsible for your addiction."
    "He is not."
    "Oh?"  She raised an eyebrow but he offered no more on the matter.  "Let me tell you some things you may not know about opium, Mr. Redcliff, and then you can tell me if Sir Oswyn doesn't have your best interests at heart.  Because he knows as well as I do that there are severe side-effects of smoking or eating the powder.  It can cause breathing difficulties.  It numbs the mind.  You might be simply taking it to help you sleep now but soon you'll find you need to smoke more and more to help you fall asleep, and that's when the problems will really start."
    He blinked slowly, deliberately.  "Are you telling me the entire medical profession is wrong?"
    "Perhaps they have not seen opium kill a man."
    "And you have?"
    "Yes."  Her mouth dried.  Tears pricked her eyes.  If she thought too much about that day, that patient, then cracks would open up and a flood of painful memories would swamp her.  She could not allow that.  "He took too much and stopped breathing."  She shrugged in an attempt to hide the overwhelming sadness she always felt when she let herself remember Lawrence.  "He simply never woke up."
    There was a slight hesitation before he said, "I will not take too much."
    "Even so, I am here to help you stop."
    His hands balled into fists on his thighs then slowly uncurled and he stretched out his fingers.  His sharp gaze drilled into her.  "Let's make something clear, Miss Appleby.  I don't want you here."
    "I believe you have already made that point clear."
    "Then why aren't you leaving?  Surely you have other employment waiting for you."
    Therein lay the problem.  "Sir Oswyn has...insisted.  He can be quite persuasive when he wants to be."
    Mr. Redcliff leaned back and breathed deeply.  "Quite."
    Something in his voice gave her pause.  "If you don't want me here then why not throw me out?"
    That produced another one of those grim, twisted smiles.  "Because I'm too much of a gentleman."
    She had the sudden desire to laugh out loud.  Fortunately she kept it in check and only a small strangled sound escaped from her throat.  "Of course you are," was all she said.  But it most certainly was not the reason for his grudging acceptance of her presence in his home.  That, she guessed, could be firmly laid at Sir Oswyn's crippled feet too.  He'd forced Georgiana's hand on the matter and it would seem he had forced Mr. Redcliff's too.  She wondered what secret the Permanent Under-Secretary to the Foreign Office knew about his favorite diplomat and spy. 
    "I'll double what he's paying you," he said.
    "No, thank you."
    "Triple it."
    "It's not about the money."  Well, in a way it was—it came down to the future earnings she would lose as a result of Sir Oswyn making good on his threat to expose her.
    "Well then," he