Tristan turned his eyes back on Pippa, not sure how to respond. He was vaguely aware that he had just admitted that he was struggling financially, and Pippa only confirmed it with her ‘make sure you could eat’. Under different circumstances, he might have argued with her about whether it had been quite so drastic. But the damage was done and he knew there were more pressing issues. He also knew he owed Pippa a debt of gratitude. And so he swallowed pride and principle, nodded, and answered quietly: “Thank you, Pippa.”

He wished for a change of topic and got it almost immediately, but when Mr. Zimmermann spoke, he was not pleased. He opened his mouth to speak. Saw Pippa’s face. Closed his mouth to a hard line. Stomach churned. Anger brewed

“As Miss Danes’ doctor, I must insist that she is not distressed with this kind of conversation for at least a few weeks,” he said, his voice suddenly authoritative. Likely as fuck that he’d let them marry her off to the first garden gnome that would have her. He had promised to let her make her own choices and not to stop her from marrying a man to claim the child, but her eyes told him all he needed to know. He'd use his full powers as a doctor and alienist if that was what it took to protect her. “She is still recovering from a recent illness and has had a lot to process in a short time. I fear that if her nerves are shaken any more, it will seriously damage her health. Miss Danes needs rest above all things. Mr. Zimmermann, might I offer you some scotch while we give the young ladies a chance to catch up in private?”