Chapter Thirty-One

W hen she arrived, Nick was hunched over his desk, scribbling something on paper. He looked up as she stormed in, and his eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet, reaching out to her blood-soaked form and the bundle of bloodied fur she cradled in her hands.

"Pippa? What—are you all right? What happened?" He put his hands on her shoulders.

Out of breath, cradling Truffles in her hands, Pippa tried to find the right words, but she couldn't stop crying.

"M-m-mushroom cap," she managed to say.

"What?" He ran his hands over her body, and she knew he was searching for her wounds. But it was Truffles's blood he saw, not hers. "Please talk to me!" he pleaded.

Pippa broke into tears, her shoulders shaking relentlessly. She was safe, finally safe. And yet, what had happened was all too cruel. All those years of caring for her mother's plants. All the care for Sir Hoppington… she heaved a shuddering breath. What kind of a person injured a bunny just for effect? A malicious one, that's who—a person bred out of evil, deceit, and charlatanerie.

"I heard the cries; what's going on?" Alfie came into the room; as soon as he spotted her, his eyes flew open wide.

"I don't know. She came here and is bleeding." Nick examined Pippa and lifted the bunny from her arms.

"It's not my blood," she cried. "It's Truffles! He's been stabbed."

Alfie came closer, bending down to peer at Truffles, limp in Nick's hands. "Is this a rabbit?" Concern and surprise warred in his voice.

Pippa nodded. "Mushroom cap," she gasped. She dropped her face onto Nick's shoulder.

"Who took the mushroom cap?" Alfie came to stand behind Nick to see Pippa's face as she cried onto Nick's shoulder.

"My father."

"It's a dangerous poison, Pippa. We have to help the duke if he took some," Alfie said.

Nick took the bunny and carried him to his operating table. "Alfie, water—"

"Here." Alfie brought clean towels and a metal bowl of water, needles and thread; Nick had set the bunny on the table where he stood, trembling, ears back, eyes big and staring with what Pippa thought might be fear and pain.

She realized that Chromius was underfoot, leaning his shaggy side against her legs, but unlike his usual boisterous self he wasn't jumping on her. It was as if he sensed there was something gravely wrong.

"I'm not sure of the safe amount for a rabbit. I have a good idea for a human patient, but even then there's always a risk." Alfie dripped some laudanum onto a cloth that he waved near Truffles's snout. In a few moments, Pippa's bunny had collapsed. She blinked back tears.

Nick held him on his back as Alfie shaved the area around his wounds.

"It's not deep. I don't see any cuts on his organs. I'm not an animal doctor, but I think a few stitches will work to stop the bleeding."

Pippa held back her tears as she watched them work together to stop the bleeding. "He looks so small." She wiped any escaped wetness from her face. "Is he going to be all right? Is he going to…"

"As long as he doesn't develop any infection, he should be fine," Alfie said.

"I've got some ointment," Nick said. He used a flat, wooden stick to swipe over the stitches, and then wrapped a clean strip of linen around the rabbit to cover them. "He'll probably be a bit stiff, and he'll probably be somewhat groggy, but I think he'll be fine."

He was right; within a few minutes, the bunny woke up and drank water from a clean pipette that Alfie fed him. "I'll get a carrot from the back for him soon, or some carrot-flavored laudanum if he needs more," he joked.

Nick nodded, then turned his focus to Pippa. "Now. You were talking about poison. And your father? Pippa, what is happening?"

She drew a ragged breath. "Wife Six is poisoning my father, I think—one dose at night. And I think Sir Matthews gives him another in the morning when he goes for his…treatments. That's why—" Tears spilled down her cheeks once more.

Nick lifted his gaze to Alfie's. "Matthews from across the street?" He turned back to Pippa.

But as soon as Nick asked the question, he saw that a veil had descended over Pippa's red-rimmed eyes. He'd seen it before. It was the same face that doctors put on when they gave a terminal diagnosis, or when they informed family members of a surgery that had gone wrong, or the death of a baby at birth. It was the same face he'd viewed in his mirror after his best friend had gone blind and there had been nothing he could do.

Pippa leaned against the table to regain her breath. "I have to tell you something."

And with these words, she began. Sentence by sentence, she shattered his heart.

Nick was under no illusion that Alfie didn't know what he felt. Alfie stood by, his eyes flicking to Nick, who struggled to keep his composure. As if giving Nick the space to confront his heartbreak, Alfie methodically began cleaning the operating table and their tools, his motions deliberate and seemingly detached.

And it was Nick's fault for not heeding his friend's warnings. He hadn't kept his hands off the lady. It had been impulsive. Exciting, yes. Wonderful. Stupid, certainly. He'd so thoroughly compromised her that it couldn't be undone. The quack from across the street had a daughter, married to Pippa's father, who wanted to keep Pippa unmarried so that he could control her inheritance. If the stepmother outlived Pippa's father, she'd inherit. Pippa would be penniless. And if word got out that Nick had compromised her, the practice might be left in shambles.

Mr. Matthews had found a way to ruin the practice and Nick had gotten entangled in a trap. If the authorities got involved, too, rumors would spread worse than a nettle rash.

And the price he'd pay was… everything.

Alfie waited until she finished her account. Nick watched the scene unfold as if he were reading about it in a book, but he couldn't shut it down and set it aside. He'd brought this upon his own life, imposed on an aristocrat's daughter, and tried to meddle. Why couldn't he just let her be? He'd diagnosed her because he knew spectacles would cure her hardship. And then he'd deflowered her, compromised her. Because he'd fallen in love with her, even though he'd known it was not his role to play.

Now, he and his friends could lose everything for one pair of spectacles for a pretty lady. When the gentry and nobility clashed, it was like hot and cold air in the sky; there was thunder, lighting, and bad weather. The question would be how and if their practice could weather the storm.

When she'd finished, she heaved for air, tears running down her cheeks.

But something inside of Nick had changed. He suppressed the urge to touch her. A part of him wanted to wrap himself around her and soothe her tears, but the other part, the rational one who'd worked so hard to get here, wasn't willing to sacrifice everything because of the quack's web of traps.

They set Truffles into a wicker breadbasket, softly cushioned with white muslin folded into a makeshift bunny pillow so he could sleep off the laudanum's effects. Then, they moved into the hall and spoke in hushed voices, Chromius following them.

Alfie cleared his throat and put a hand on Nick's upper arm. It was a signal to rise to action. But he addressed Pippa. "So, am I understanding this correctly? Your father has been using the money you cannot access, but that's part of your inheritance to pay for the quack, and your stepmother plans a slander campaign against the Harley Street doctors. Against all of us?"

"I think she sent Wife Four and Wife Five to him, but then sent them away. I'm not sure why. All I do know is that she has been planning this all along," Pippa said softly.

"So, through Wife Six's connections at the Ton, she could spread fabricated stories or allegations about us, damaging our reputation and causing patients to question our credibility." Alfie dropped into one of the chairs placed in the hall for patients, but he put his head between his legs and then rubbed his eyes with the bases of his palms. "It could be the end of us."

Nick's heart hurt as if infected with the ugly truth. He'd brought this lady to 87 Harley Street, and she could wipe their practice out. If the Duke of Sussex weren't her father, Nick could expose him and seek the truth. But having compromised and fallen in love with the duke's daughter, Nick had lost even the little credibility a commoner had who pleaded to the aristocrats. No, if he wanted to save the practice and marry Pippa, he needed more fire power.

"Alfie," Nick croaked. He couldn't look at her anymore. It had been such an exhausting day he didn't have the power to withstand heartbreak tonight. He didn't even know if he had the power to survive losing Pippa.

Yet, she wasn't who he'd hoped. She wasn't the sweet wallflower princess with the pretty greenhouse. She was a minx who'd stolen his heart, who had a weak father who was made to be addicted to hallucinogenic mushroom caps with regular and involuntary doses. If Nick didn't succeed, the life of the woman he loved could be in danger.

His throat constricted at the word. It had started as a flirtation, but it wasn't that anymore.

Not by far.

His hands grew cold, but the fire raged within him.

This was love, and he knew it. Yet Pippa's family, even the stepmother she loathed, stood between them and Nick knew no way out.

Heartbreak seemed so sure as if it had been noted in his appointment book.

Except that he wasn't willing to let go of her either.

There was no way he could sacrifice the practice for a life with her, and yet, he wouldn't let go of the future they'd whispered about in hours of passion. He'd made love to her. Perhaps she was already carrying his child? Their hearts and souls had been inseparable; if anything or anyone ever tried to tear them apart now, he'd perish.

No, he wouldn't allow it.

The quack was an obstacle, and her association with him, even indirectly, was an unexpected complication. But Nick specialized in complications, didn't he? He had a perfect track record of tackling the most unusual cases. He just had to apply what he did in the operating room to his life.

Step 1: Diagnosis.

Done. The quack planned on slandering the practice to destroy everything Nick and his friends had worked for. Plus, Wendy. Oh, Wendy. She was his family, his responsibility.

His chest tightened again. He had to fix it. There was no way he could stand between loving Pippa and his sister's happiness. He wouldn't sacrifice Wendy's happiness and security to pursue a life with Pippa, unless…

Step 2: Prep for surgery.

"How can we get ahead of their scheme?" Nick paced the room and waved grandly like his professor in Vienna when he spoke about the branches of the optic nerve. It was easy to get to the brain and determine if it was operating well. "Who's in charge of the money?"

"The trustees at the bank manage it. My father only manages the portion related to our house." Pippa narrowed her eyes and spoke as if she were thinking something other than what she said. Her eyes were glued to Nick. He understood. She was hanging on to his every word. One wrong movement, one wrong word, and he'd break her heart.

He was an expert at controlling even the tiniest of motions, though. The portion of the body he operated on was delicate and small, regardless of how big the patient was. He had a steady hand.

All he needed was a steady head.

"How can you stop the money from reaching your father?" Nick asked.

Alfie shot him a poisonous look, but Nick brushed the unspoken reproach off. It wasn't about taking her money, even if this were what everyone would think. It was about setting her free and ensuring that her father's slander would land on deaf ears.

"The only way is if I marry, and my husband is immediately in charge of the funds."

"The funds are your entire inheritance?" Alfie asked.

Pippa nodded. "It's a fortune, actually."

"How big of a fortune?"

"Hmm, about a third," she shrugged and tightened her gaze as if she could quickly add a few numbers.

"A third of what your grandfather left you?"

"Of England."

"I beg your pardon?" Alfie's brows rose so high he looked comical. If the situation weren't so dire, Nick would laugh. Alfie coughed. "You stand to inherit a third of England?"

"Not exactly. The king holds some of the land in trust for the Crown, and I'm not sure how much of the money is backed by gold here these days or is otherwise held abroad."

Alfie's mouth fell open, and he looked rather a fish. Then he closed his mouth, scratched the back of his neck, and blinked at Nick. "Whatever you do, don't let her get away." Alfie turned to Pippa. "And whatever you need from me, medicines, or anything else, let me know. Don't let a third of England fall into the hands of the quack and his evil daughter." He nodded and crossed his arms. "Matthews and his daughter both must be reported to the magistrate."

"And bring a scandal to my family? The clumsy goose's fifth stepmother poisons the Duke of Sussex." She was right, the newspaper would distort it and capitalize on her misfortune. There had to be another way.

Back to step 2. Prepping for surgery.

"We need to dull the effects of the mushroom poison," Nick decided. "Nothing can be done if Pippa's father gets sicker. If I'm going to be his son-in-law, I must protect his health."

Pippa's chest inflated, and she opened her mouth, but no words came out.

For the first time, Nick allowed himself to meet her gaze again.

There was hope and a little of that sparkle that took his breath away.

Very well, he'd fight—his way.

"Is there an antidote for the mushroom cap?" Nick asked Alfie, who still stood broad legged with his hands crossed.

"No."

"B—u—u—u—t…" There was always a "but" in alchemy.

"If she's right and he gets two doses per day, we need to absorb the poison he gets or get rid of it before it takes effect."

"I'm afraid to ask," Nick grimaced.

"Pippa, I'll give you some charcoal."

"To draw?"

"Of course not. To mix into his food. It absorbs the toxins. Can you mix it into his coffee? Chocolate crème—"

"Perhaps hide it in an eclair from the patisserie?" Pippa asked.

"Yes! Perfect!"

"That sounds unpleasant, not perfect." Nick shook his head.

"And we need an emetic," Alfie announced.

Disgusting. Nick preferred the part of medicine he'd focused on. Inducing vomiting was not his forte.

"Now I'm afraid to ask," Pippa said. Oh good, she'd regained some of her energy.

"Well, warm water and oil work, but he won't swallow that willingly."

"Isn't there something else to hide for the same effect?" Nick didn't even want to speak about it. "Ipecac?"

"I'm not getting another shipment of ipecac for months. We don't have that much time."

"What's ipecac?"

"The ipecacuanha plant, or simply ipecac, is a species in the Rubiaceae family. It's native to Brazil and has been used for centuries as a source of emetic substances," Alfie explained.

"Oh, it's a small one, about this high." Pippa showed the distance of a foot between her hands. "It has slender stems that are reddish-brown and covered with fine hairs. The flowers are small."

Alfie blinked slowly as if to digest the fact that she not only knew the plant, but apparently knew it very well. Nick smiled. He couldn't help but be proud of her intelligence.

"Why do you know that?" Alfie asked.

"I have one. But its little lavender blooms have dried out for the year."

"She has an ipecac?" Alfie turned to address Nick as if he'd discovered that Pippa rode alligators and tamed tarantulas for fun.

"An orangery," Pippa corrected him.

"So, you can easily dig out a piece of the ipecac's root?" Alfie asked.

"She has a greenhouse," Nick said. "The plants are in flower beds and are quite accessible."

"A greenhouse. With medicinal plants?" Alfie asked, incredulously.

"Most of them."

Alfie squinted, keeping his arms crossed and his gaze skipping from Nick to Pippa and back. "Your beautiful blond lady is in love with you, owns a third of England, and has a greenhouse." He coughed into his fist now, before saying, "Excuse me. She has an orangery filled with exotic medicinal plants."

Nick couldn't suppress the smile and pinched his lips. Yes, that was his Pippa.

"Where you found her, I'm going, too!"

The three of them chuckled.

Nick inhaled gravely. All would be well. He had his love and his friends; somehow, they'd weather this storm. They'd even saved Truffles.

So, step 2 was taken care of: Pippa's father would be weaned off the mushroom cap.

That left step 3. The incision.