Chapter Thirty-Six

B ack in the drawing room, the Earl of Langley settled back in his chair and lifted his cup of tea.

Isabel and Pippa followed suit. But then he grimaced and set the cup back down. " Faugh. There's no amount of sugar that can make this taste like the schnapps I had in Vienna, darling. I'd rather drink water." He pushed the cup aside and leaned back in his chair.

Considering his demeanor, Pippa was reminded of her father's demeanor when he'd played "The Queen Comes for Tea" with her when she was six years old. He'd been big and imposing, yet loving, willingly drinking tea when it was clear he'd prefer something else. "My grown-up drink," he'd told her. But he'd at least pretended to drink the tea she'd poured him.

It had been a long time ago now and she wasn't waiting for the queen, nor was her father inclined to have tea with her. But it was a welcome memory, one that reminded her of how much he'd changed, and how much she needed to eliminate Wife Six from their lives as soon as possible.

"He's a peer of the Realm and doesn't like tea. What an earl I caught," Violet said in a self-indulgent singsong. She was fishing for compliments. None came.

No time for dallying.

"Lady Ellington, please stay here with us as our guest. I will personally arrange for my carriage to take you back to your husband in the morning," the earl said, demonstratively ignoring his wife's gasp.

Pippa chuckled. He clearly had learned much about diplomacy and how to quiet Violet. Perhaps there was more to the earl than met the eye.

"I cannot stay without Pippa, my lord," Isabel said.

Violet deflated.

He turned to Pippa. "Is it your wish, Lady Pemberton, to join us as our guest for the rest of the day and the evening?" the earl said.

Pippa remained quiet though the answer leapt to her mind immediately. Yes, please! Of course, she'd jump at the chance. It wasn't exactly right for her to stay at 87 Harley Street but also going home was impossible. And if she wanted to be there for Isabel and Lance tomorrow, she didn't have enough time to go to Silvercrest Manor then return to London. "Yes, my lord. I'd be quite pleased to stay with you."

"Very good! Then I will send a note to your father to inform him that—" But Pippa interrupted the earl.

"Please don't tell him where I am, my lord."

The earl arched a brow and inclined his head. "Needn't the Duke of Sussex know where his daughter is if she doesn't come home?"

"He wouldn't miss me if I were gone a week, my lord." Heat rose to Pippa's face when she said it, but it was true. As shameful as her relationship with her father was, she could barely explain why a lady of her social standing was free to come and go without being noticed. Although now, she understood that it was, in more likelihood due to the poisonous potion with which he was being manipulated. Again, she thought about the father she'd known, a duke, willing to play tea party with his little girl. He'd loved her very much once. Now, his mind was being poisoned, not just his body.

"Lady Pemberton, is there something I ought to know?" the earl asked Pippa.

Sitting in a chair kitty-corner to the earl's, Violet looked up at the ceiling and sucked her lower lip in, the very expression she always used when… Oh no, she told her husband.

"Let me rephrase then." The earl scanned all three of their faces, or he would have, if each lady wasn't more intent on balancing a cup of tea on the saucer in her lap than returning his regard. "Am I harboring a fugitive?"

"No!" Violet said. "There are no criminals here, darling."

"Ah!" He leaned back, crossed his left ankle over his right knee and put both hands on the armrests. Even though the armchair was lushly upholstered, it looked too small as a throne for a commandeering man like him. It was dawning on Pippa what Violet saw in him, even though her heart ached as she thought of Nick. "So short of committing an actual crime, what atrocity am I keeping secret?"

"Nothing, my lord. I just don't wish to go home." There, Pippa had said it. "I had a disagreement with my father."

"About what?"

"My choice of groom."

"You're engaged?" Violet sputtered.

"Yes." Pippa set the cup on the table and folded her hands primly in her lap. Eat that, Violet. The most handsome and talented young man declared his love and wants to marry me! The clumsy goose is going to be a swan!

"To whom?" Violet cried out, her eyes doing an abysmal job of hiding her shock.

"Nick Folsham," Pippa said proudly. She held her head high and her back straight like a regal swan gliding across a still pond, every gesture exuding an unassailable dignity.

"Doctor Nicholas Folsham? The oculist?" the earl asked. Pippa nodded. "The one who's operating on her husband as we speak?" He nodded in Isabel's direction.

Isabel took a scone from the platter next to the tea tray and took a bite. This was old news to her. She was determined to project happiness. She was like…well…a goose on a nest, or a swan now, unafraid of Violet's focus or possible determination to upset her.

The earl leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together as if he were contemplating a coup. "Doctor Folsham is a good man," he said thoughtfully. "Very good."

Pippa's heart skipped a beat. Something was in the air, and she wasn't sure what, but it had to do with the rest of her life.

"And yet…" Violet said in a low voice. The change in her tone was immediate and distinct, much like a countess addressing her spouse. Pippa and Isabel might as well have been part of the intricate design on the settee's upholstery, so invisible they became. The earl and Violet occupied their own world, with an intense connection reflecting in their eyes as they gazed at one another. It was as if they were engaged in a silent discourse, communicating volumes without uttering a single word.

"A duke's daughter with an oculist? It's unheard of." Violet spoke as if there was no finality to the statement. Pippa's chest constricted. It was true, she was high born. He was not. She was hated, and it shouldn't matter, but it did. Love was wonderful—except if she fell in love. It was absurd, but her union with Nick would be cause for disgrace for many vicious tongues among the Ton. Between the earl, Violet, Isabel and her, there was no denying of the cleft between gentry and nobility. Pippa was trying to forge a bridge where none could be built.

"But I love him so much. Why should the Ton have sway in who I may or may not marry if they don't want me in their midst to begin with?" Pippa sucked in a gulp of air, but the earl and Violet's eyes were locked as if she were not in the room. "Once I'm wed, I'll have access to my inheritance and then I can be free. Nobody ever paid much attention to me besides to mock me. This way, I can break free from society's scorn."

The earl gave a nod. Then Violet unglued her eyes from him, blinked a few times and addressed Pippa. She no longer spoke like a young woman her age; she was the countess in tone and demeanor. "You're an heiress. Once you're wed, you'll be wealthy. But until then, you'll need your father's approval."

"Yes." Pippa's heart plummeted to the floor. "He'll never give it."

"Yet, you gave Dr. Folsham your word?" the earl asked.

"She gave him her heart," Violet said on Pippa's behalf. "I can see it in her eyes."

"Promises are broken without much consequence, Lady Penelope. But a broken heart shall never be mended." The earl spoke to Pippa, but his focus was on Violet again; Pippa was sure she'd missed some part of the story, but she felt as though she were a fox in the crossfire at a country chase.

She said, "I'm shackled to my father who doesn't even want me. Yet, without his permission, I cannot grant his wish and be free. And he won't let me marry Nick for all the love in the world if he risks losing control of the portion of my wealth that he currently uses to support his lifestyle. It's of no consequence to him how I feel. I'm afraid he won't care if Nick becomes a casualty in the process, so much wealth is at stake."

"What makes you think that he won't allow you to marry Doctor Folsham?"

"Wife Six."

"Ah. And what could sway her?"

"You're not even asking me why?"

"It doesn't matter in diplomacy, Lady Penelope. It's usually just a question of the cost to get the result you desire," the earl said.

"The house."

"Silvercrest Manor or Cloverdale House?"

Pippa nodded. "All of them. Including the gardens. And my orangery. They are in my name and my father is only the executor of the estate until I marry. It will all revert to my husband then."

"So hypothetically speaking, if you relinquished your interest in Cloverdale House, your father and stepmother would own it but doing so would set you free?"

"Perhaps. She's out for pomp and prestige. And money."

"What makes you doubt the potential of such a transaction?" the earl asked.

Pippa swallowed hard. So that's what her life and family had become, transactions. Well, if there was no love left between her and her father, then there was at least money. Lots of that. Except…there was more to the story, and maybe it was time to share it. She drew in a deep breath before she blurted, "I suspect that Wife Six is poisoning my father."

The earl's penetrating gaze seemed to unravel her composure, exposing the raw vulnerability she had long sought to conceal but Pippa needed to tell the earl and his countess what had happened if she was going to request their help. Despite the daunting prospect of baring her soul to the Earl and facing the ever-judging Violet, a quiet strength pulsed within her, a resilience honed through years of enduring whispered slights and withering glances.

"Well, a wife does have a certain sway over a man's mind," the earl said, a quick smile forming on his lips as he looked at Violet. "Of course, she has the power to poison his mind as well as enrich it."

Pippa shook her head. "No. I mean actual poison. Of his body. It has been going on for a while and I only just discovered it for myself."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's a rather grave suspicion to hold, Lady Penelope. What is your basis?" the earl asked.

"She showed me a vial of mushroom cap powder the night she stabbed my pet rabbit."

"She killed your rabbit with a poisonous mushroom?" Violet blurted out.

"No, with a blade. And no, he's not dead. But the point is, she showed me the powder in the same vial as that of the crystal healer that my father frequents." She paused, then turned to Violet, who was sitting with her hand over her mouth and her eyes round and big as saucers. "My bunny is all right. Nick stitched his wounds."

"And what does that have to do with the poison?"

"It was an act of retaliation. She tried to kill my pet to hurt me. She was showing her hand," Pippa said. "And threatening to use my liaison with Nick as a scandal. She'd inform everyone in the Ton and Nick and the others would lose their clientele at 87 Harley Street."

"What did you do?" Violet asked in a voice that was both enterprising and insightful as if she were the master of managing an ill-executed practical joke, which she was. Pippa remembered every nasty prank from boarding school.

"I bred mosquito larvae in the orangery and let them hatch in her room." Pippa pinched her lips. "Just in time before a ball she hosted."

The earl massaged his cheeks as if to stifle a laugh and then sucked his cheeks in. "I see."

"Ooh. Well done," Violet murmured. Pippa decided that—should Violet ask—she'd never share with her exactly how she'd grown the larvae to enact her plan. It certainly was a trick she would have played on someone when they were younger.

Then again, they'd both learned that pulling pranks had consequences. She took a deep breath. "Wife Six said she used her father's mushroom cap. And I've seen this style of vial at the crystal healer. My father goes to see the healer—Sir Matthew—every day."

"The healer is Lady Pemberton's father?" the earl said.

"Yes." It didn't seem right to Pippa that the vile woman held the same title that had once belonged to her mother. "The sixth Lady Pemberton."

"So, she's not of noble blood either?" Violet asked.

Pippa shook her head.

"Is she wealthy?"

Pippa shook her head. "About six months ago, I looked into the accounts, and it seems that the amount she brought with her dowry was almost the same amount my father had paid the crystal healer over the course of two years."

"So, your father paid for the dowry of his non-noble wife who's the daughter of the crystal healer who's poisoning him?" the earl asked.

Pippa squinted. Phrased that way it all sounded rather like a big web of lies. "Well…Yes. She's using Nick to blackmail me into not revealing that she's poisoning my father. As long as she's manipulating my father, he won't agree to my marriage to Nick and the practice is at risk."

"Plus, your heart," Violet added. Pippa nodded.

"And you don't think your father will give his blessing for you to marry Doctor Folsham? Why? He's only twenty-six or so."

"Twenty-seven."

The earl drew circles in the air with his hands. "He's young, healthy, smart, and obviously has earned your love."

Pippa felt the heat rising to her face again. She turned to Isabel who was blinking tears away. Even though Pippa was among aristocrats, none of them had mentioned that Nick was merely a commoner. Instead, they focused on his accomplishments, and his skills. "A good man" the earl had called him, and it was true. Perhaps, because of the enlightened earl, Violet, Lance—a duke!—Isabel, and herself, Pippa had hope that the Ton might let her get away with marrying Nick.

"I'll help you." The earl uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. Violet cleared her throat and he cast her a nod. "If you agree to a certain condition, I will make sure you have your father's blessing, permission, and a special license if you need one."

"Whatever it takes!" Pippa beamed when Isabel took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Even if it means that you'll be the center of attention at a ball?" Violet asked, casting the earl another of those leave-this-to-me, I-know-the-Ton looks.

Could she trust Violet? She'd been one to create all manner of chaos and upset during her youth. She never quite trusted her since. Except now…She looked at her childhood friend, now holding onto one of her husband's hands, studying her with an expression free of guile, and filled with—instead—kindness. "Yes," Pippa whispered and gently squeezed Isabel's hand back for support. She and the rest of them knew it meant defeating any obstacle that stood in the way of love, both for Pippa's prospects to marry Nick as well as for Isabel's return to Lance. Violet had a proven record of getting what she set out to obtain and if she was going to help Pippa, there was no price too high for success.