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“Is it true?” Gideon pressed, his voice calm, at odds with the way color was racing up Wakefield’s neck.

“Iris was distressed, and I wished to help her. It was a matter that she did not wish to share with anyone else.” He swallowed thickly. “She came to me, and I comforted her.”

“What was the matter that she came to you about?”

Wakefield’s throat clicked and he slipped a finger behind his neckcloth as if it was suddenly tight against his throat. “Nightmares.”

Gideon frowned. “Nightmares are fairly common. Why come to you?”

“Because I am a doctor,” Wakefield snapped.

“Are you a doctor of the mind?”

“I am a physician, Inspector, and a member of the Royal College of Physicians. I treat complaints of both the body and mind. They are invariably connected, in my experience.”

“Miss Collier thought that you and Iris were paramours,” Electra said softly, not wishing to stoke the man’s temper, but wishing to get to the heart of his true connection to Iris Delacourt.

Wakefield let out a shuddery breath. “Well, Miss Poole, whomever Miss Collier said such a thing to, she was wrong. Perhaps she was a fanciful young woman.”

“Was Iris a fanciful young woman as well?”

“No…” He seemed to catch himself, then said, “She was haunted by grief over the loss of her mother. She struggled with fear of death. It is not an uncommon fear, but rather unusual for a woman of her age.”

Electra stilled, her face suddenly drawn.

Gideon wondered if Electra felt a kinship with Iris. She’d had nightmares after the death of her own mother. She’d confided that she feared something would happen to her father, or to Gideon. It had taken years for the nightmares to abate.

“So this was an entirely medical appointment between the two of you?” Gideon asked pointedly when Electra said nothing more.

“Yes,” Wakefield all but hissed.

“When did these secret visits occur?”

At Gideon’s characterization of their visits, Wakefield narrowed his eyes. “Over the last month or so.”

“How many times did you meet?”

Wakefield turned his head toward the fireplace and crossed his arms. Gideon felt resistance from him, saw evidence of it in his tight jaw, the tension in his shoulders. He suspected he was debating what to reveal and what to conceal.

“Three times.” The words emerged through clenched teeth.

“Why did she not come visit you at your practice?” Gideon asked, his voice cool and controlled, though he was noting all of Wakefield’s reactions too.

Wakefield unfolded his arms, squared his shoulders, and seemed to compose himself. “I believe she was embarrassed. She did mention that she felt as if her worries were a weakness. Roger Delacourt is a man of great political power, personal charisma, wealth, and influence. But if he has a flaw, it is that his expectations can feel like a burden to those he cares for. I see it with Violet. Both sisters seem to feel that if they toed one step out of line, they would disappoint him, and they desperately wished to not disappoint him.”

“Did you have romantic feelings for Iris?” Electra asked.

He turned to look her in the eyes, though he had been avoiding a direct gaze with either of them.

“I had affection for her, Miss Poole. She was soon to be my sister, was she not?” Wakefield gave a half-smile and answered with seemingly forced lightness.

“Did you ever kiss her?” she dared to ask.

He pressed his lips together, then dipped his head. “Yes” emerged on a hoarse whisper.

“So it was more than fraternal affection,” Gideon pointed out.

“I pride myself on being a man who can control his feelings, Inspector. In the work you do, you may understand the need for such a stance.”