Chapter Thirty-Three

P ippa thought of everything she'd left behind. The servants had cleaned up the mess, but the void of Sir Hoppington's absence left the orangery feeling strange. Luckily, he'd found a safe little basket and had recovered well enough in the course of the following day to chase Chromius. If Pippa weren't so tense these days, she'd appreciate the humor of the small three-legged bunny chasing a dog four times its size.

Lance was almost ready for surgery when Pippa and Alfie returned from their mission to obtain ipecac root and pastries. Alfie took the ipecac root to his apothecary across from Nick's treatment room and started to do whatever he needed to prepare it for her father.

But it was the first time she'd harvested the root of a plant and not merely a flower or a fruit like her pineapple. She'd started to harvest from the orangery rather than care for the tropical flowers. It was a shift in how she treated her mother's beloved plants. It was time to forge her own luck.

Pippa stood in the waiting room at 87 Harley Street between Alfie's glass door to the apothecary and Nick's room, where Lance had taken a position on the operating table. She didn't particularly want to go into either of those rooms, nor was she inclined to go back home again. Everything was different.

Wife Six had taken such a strong stance against Pippa that she didn't feel safe at home, nor did she expect her father to be sober enough from the mushroom poison to think rationally and defend her. No, home wasn't an option. Neither were the authorities, lest they spread rumors worse than the truth and ruin not only Pippa's family's name, but also Nick's practice. So many people's lives could be ruined. Even Bea's prospect may suffer because she lived at Cloverdale House. No, reporting Wife Six and her father wasn't an option.

Pippa wanted to distance herself from the mess but couldn't. Silvercrest Manor was too far from Harley Street, and Nick couldn't join her there if he had to care for Lance after the surgery.

Then she heard a deep sigh and some footsteps. Wendy led the way, and Isabel followed her.

"Have they gone in yet?" Wendy asked with an enterprising voice as she opened Nick's door. Pippa peeked in, as did Isabel.

Pippa saw Isabel's face fall like an anchor from a ship, splashing into the ocean and sinking lower than the eye could follow. Lance was on Nick's long table covered in white cloths with only the top of his head exposed, safely resting on the special upholstered headrest.

"Pippa, could you take Isabel for a walk or tea?" Wendy asked over her shoulder.

Pippa's eyes found Nick's. He got up from his desk, where he did his calculations. "We will all work together to make this as smooth as possible."

Understood. Isabel would be in the way. And she would be, too. No problem.

"There's a lovely little bakery just around the corner; let's go," Pippa said, taking Isabel's arm.

"But Lance!" Isabel protested. "I need to speak with him."

Pippa looked up the steps at Nick, who nodded at her from inside the treatment room. She understood he wanted her to take on Isabel.

Within a few minutes, both had picked up their reticules and pelisses—Pippa made sure she had her new glasses with her— and the door shut behind them. "This is a wonderful place; they have the most delicious strawberry cream tarts," Pippa said with as light a tone as she could. But Isabel instead dragged her feet, making a shuffling sound as she walked.

"They also have chocolate eclairs if you prefer a richer desert." Pippa tried to distract Isabel. Even though they'd been excluded from the medical procedure, Pippa realized that keeping Isabel away was rather helpful and it made her feel like she was one of the group, one of the doctors and the nurse on Harley Street. She felt honored, and her heart grew with vigor. She was no longer alone with her plants.

"So, there's also orange cake. It's delicious, but I'd dunk it in tea, and the patissier won't allow—"

"Lance doesn't eat sweets," Isabel said absent-mindedly, her eyes on the cobblestones on the street.

"Why not?"

"He is afraid that his teeth will get ugly, and he won't see it. I tell him I'd let him know but he is stubborn."

"Oh. That's rather vain yet quite sensible of him. I'm afraid I love sweets. The creamier the better."

"You are very beautiful. And your smile is impeccable. You and Nick make a lovely couple." Isabel's compliment sounded heartfelt even though it had a tinge of sadness. Yet, it had been the first time someone had called Pippa and Nick a couple. It was as if she'd been discovered. Her new life had a direction, even though it led to challenges, and the world appeared brighter than before.

"I'm afraid Lance will not be pleased with me if the surgery goes well." Isabel stopped beside a linden tree and hid her face behind her hands. "I'm such a terrible person."

"Isabel?" Pippa wasn't sure what came over her. How did the surgery and the conversation about sweets relate to the quality of Isabel's character?

"I don't want him to see me!" Isabel cried. Her face had grown blotchy.

Pippa sighed. It made little sense to feign ignorance. She might add insult to the injury—or rather the blemish—if she pretended it wasn't there.

"He won't love me if he sees my face. Nobody ever did."

"And here I was thinking that we'd become friends," Pippa tried to joke, but Isabel began to wail. Oh dear!

"He loves me now because he can't see me!"

"I haven't known Lance for more than a few hours, but he doesn't strike me as the superficial kind. He surely loves you for many reasons, Isabel."

"He fell in love with me because I was the only eligible woman of his station. They sent us away together to the country, out of sight and out of mind. But he won't want to take me back home with him or he'll get a mistress if he's coming out of his darkness. He's a wealthy aristocrat with an enormous following for his botany books."

"I know. I've read them all."

"You have?" Isabel blinked at Pippa. "I wrote them and drew the illustrations."

"I suspect you did far more," Pippa said.

Isabel reddened in response. No need to say any more. Women could hardly publish books, particularly treatises, and Isabel struck Pippa as the kind of person who worked and studied out of love for the subject rather than the desire to earn acclaim.

However, Pippa's heart constricted with pity for Isabel. Her friend was probably wrong about her husband's reaction, but what if she weren't and Lance would take a mistress? Men of Lance's station strayed.

Even her father had; he married five times after her mother died. In the Ton, people were as interchangeable as the sheets upon which they tumbled with their mistresses. Her father was no exception. And perhaps Lance was just like the rest of them.

Except…there was someone she knew who could solve the problem, or at least, provide some answers. Pippa inhaled as renewed hope flooded her chest. Perhaps someone else's talents could prove helpful.

"I have an idea." Pippa took Isabel's arm and signaled for a hack. "Come with me. I know somebody who can help."