There was truly no telling what Miriam would have done had the doctor refused.

Finally, one side of her mouth upturned in a pleased little half-smile. She knew that she looked stunning – she would not have been so bold had she ever believed otherwise. Still it pleased her greatly to hear it.

“That would be the polite thing to do, wouldn’t it.”

Miriam watched him for another moment from up close. Considered the way that he regarded her so politely, and did not ask her to speak kindlier about his friend the way that Levi had before. Then, leaning closer, her tongue licked a slow stripe up the doctor’s cheek.

She stepped back afterwards, pivoting to open the door and walk back into the dining hall.

The air was tense. Nearly quiet, save the sounds of Levi’s fork occasionally tapping his plate and Mara’s wine glass being set down. All three at the table turned their heads once more.

“My sincerest apologies,” said Miriam, returning to her seat. “I had need of the doctor’s advice.”

“Are you feeling alright, mother?” Levi set his fork down, turning in his chair to face her.

“Yes, dear, no need to worry. It is nothing serious.”

Sitting uncomfortably straight and feeling awfully out of place at the table by himself, Malachi’s gaze traveled beyond Miriam to Arthur instead, when he reappeared. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, hands occupied with twisting his napkin where it rested over his lap.

He said nothing. It would have incurred Miriam's rage, he was sure. But he wanted to know.

“More wine?” Miriam gestured to the manservant. He moved quickly to meet her request, topping off each wine glass.