Dark eyes followed after Arthur as he left the table and disappeared from the dining hall.

Suddenly the room felt so much colder.

Just outside of the closed door, in one of several entrances to the servant’s hall that led down into the kitchen, Miriam crossed her arms lightly over her chest and let the doctor speak.

The expression she wore was almost bored.

“Doctor – Arthur. Please.” She looked him up and down again, slower this time, as if looking for something on his person. “It is hardly your fault. I am appalled every time at the influence that creature has over those that are compassionate enough to show him kindness.”

Miriam uncrossed her arms, taking a step closer. One delicate hand came to rest over Arthur’s heart, while her eyes observed the material of his vest from up close.

“You have done nothing but pique my interest, Doctor Adams,” she whispered. “And you are still in London for the night, are you not? I would not wish for you to miss the comfort of someone in your bed while you are here.”