Chapter Forty

P ippa had spent more time than was proper with Nick, but eventually she made it to the Langleys' where she'd tell people she'd stayed as their guest while Bea remained at home administering the daily charcoal to absorb the mushroom poison and then the ipecac an hour before the ball.

"Are you certain he ate the chocolate eclair?" Pippa asked, Bea pacing the hall at the House of Langley. It was Friday evening, seven o'clock. Some of the guests had arrived and Violet was playing hostess. She was in her element. Meanwhile, the Earl of Langley greeted the Archbishop of Canterbury and led him personally to the drawing room, before he returned with a smile.

"Lady Penelope and Lady Beatrice, you both look lovely this evening." He demonstratively kissed the backs of their hands as a gentleman should, each in turn, in order of age, Pippa first. With flair of a host in control, the earl positioned himself in plain sight of the guests who'd started to fill the room. And then Pippa looked up from her hand and saw seven rather sweet faces. They were all there, Nick, Wendy, Felix, Alfie, Andre, and Lance with Isabel.

"They're here!" Pippa watched the footmen take the men's hats and Wendy's pelisse. Isabel had a feather stole wrapped dramatically around her neck. It was her first evening back in society since she and Lance had been cast away into the countryside. This was a turning point for her as much as it would hopefully be for Pippa.

"Oh my," Bea exclaimed. "Who's the tall one with the wavy hair?"

"Alfie Collins, the apothecary." Pippa led Bea to her new friends—her new family, with any luck. "The one who made Isabel's perfume?" Bea blinked bashfully in his direction, batting her eyelashes.

Nick wore a dashing ensemble of a black evening frock and cream breeches. His black boots were polished to a shine, and he looked awfully handsome.

"You dressed for an oral exam, didn't you?" Pippa said cheekily as she pushed her glasses up her nose just when it was her turn to greet the doctors. Nick tugged at his stiff cravat. It was a more complicated knot than he usually wore.

"Lance picked this out," Nick said, running one elegant long and yet muscular finger through the inside of the cravat.

Pippa smiled at Isabel and Lance. They were positively gleaming with pride and if Pippa wasn't completely mistaken, there was a large dose of magnificent energy in Isabel's manner of flouting the feather stole. And Lance was prancing beside her with a hand lower on her back than seemed appropriate.

Nick smiled when Pippa returned his gaze with wide eyes, pinching her lips. "They've been at it since that morning."

"No!"

"Oh yes! The only reason they came out of their room tonight was to make a grand reentrance in society." He looked baffled, like a schoolboy who'd emerged from the dimly lit library only to be blinded by the sun's brightness. Except that the dazzling luxury of the ball couldn't dazzle Pippa anymore. With any luck, this night was her grand exit.

She was ready to leave the embarrassments behind, the gossip, and especially her father's complete lack of understanding.

Bea came to her side, blinking bashfully over her shoulder when Alfie reached out to take her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "This is my cousin, Lady Beatrice Weatherby."

Pippa made introductions for the rest of the doctors and their nurse and then the Earl of Langley came to lead Wendy into the ballroom. Wendy looked every inch a lady in the gown Pippa and Violet had ordered for her at the modiste's. Adorned with borrowed jewels and her hair elegantly arranged by Violet's maid, she must have felt as though she had stepped straight out of one of the novels she so adored. In this moment, Wendy was obviously in her glory, basking in the enchantment of her transformation.

Felix and Andre were quickly lost in the crowd and Pippa remained in the hall on the side of the foyer. Nick was with her.

"Are you truly willing to give all this up for me?"

She turned to him and looked into his gorgeous blue eyes. His gaze was so intelligent and filled such warmth and goodness, her heart hurt. "If our plans work, I'm not giving anything up. I'll finally step into the role my grandfather had intended for me and all I will take my leave from are the same people who never wanted me to have any—"

"Pippa, he's here." Violet swished to her side and whispered in her ear. "Good evening, Dr. Folsham." Violet reached her hand out and Nick greeted her. "Please join us in the library."

*

Minutes later, in the elegant library with dark-walnut shelves and leather-bound treatises perfectly in rows from the ground to the ceiling, Nick felt thoroughly out of place.

"What's this all about?" an elderly man with sideswept long great hairs over a bald spot said. He was heavyset and sweating profusely. "Pippa! Take those spectacles off, you're making a fool of yourself."

Her father.

Nick noticed Pippa tensing. She pushed the glasses up over the bridge of her nose, making sure they remained well positioned. A sign of defiance.

"Would you like some wine?" the Earl of Langley asked. "You look unwell," he continued, pouring some water into a glass. There'd been a single one on a silver platter. It was already filled with ipecac and now that the earl swirled the water in it, he was ready to administer Father's second dose. It wouldn't be long now.

The earl handed him the glass and the Duke of Sussex took a large swig. A drop of the liquid rolled down the corner of his mouth and Nick tried not to grimace in disgust. How could a blob of a caricature like that be a peer of the Realm and the father of a daughter like Pippa? It must have been her mother who was the amazing beauty, intelligent, and good natured. No wonder Pippa tried to get away from him. And no wonder her maternal grandfather had written the duke out of his will.

"I'm here!" A white-haired man entered and then shut the door. "My apologies for my tardiness, there was trouble with the carriage." The man was short but slim, beyond middle-aged, but his demeanor was sure and deliberate. His elegant but slightly shabby attire reflected his ecclesiastical status.

"What's the archbishop doing here?" Pippa's father asked. "And who's this?"

The earl nodded at Nick. He recognized this was his cue to speak. "Your Grace, my name is Nicholas Folsham."

" Doctor Nicholas Folsham," Pippa added.

Her father grunted like a boar.

"I'd like to request your daughter's hand in marriage," Nick said solemnly. Pippa took his hand and squeezed tightly.

"Denied." Her father downed the rest of the water and set the glass on the table with such a thump that it left an indentation in the elegant, polished mahogany.

The Earl of Langley didn't even flinch. Pippa was still as a flag on a day without wind. Apparently, this was no storm to the aristocrats.

"Who do you think you are, cornering me in a study that's not mine and asking for my daughter?"

"This is the library, and nobody cornered you. It's rather difficult to get your attention these days," the archbishop said. "My lord, what's wrong with you? If Dorothea saw you like this, she'd return from her grave—"

"Don't speak my wife's name!" Pippa's father roared at the archbishop. "How dare you?"

"Lower your voices, gentlemen. We're here for a shared goal and that's Pippa's future," the earl said calmly. Ever the diplomat, Nick thought. He had more to show for those years of fostering international relations than the damage to his youthful body. And he'd earned Nick's respect in more ways than one.

"I'm here because your wife promised mine an opportunity. She went on about it all week." Pippa's father ignored his daughter, and Nick formed a fist. He must not punch his future father-in-law, if it ever got to that, but he wished for nothing more than to sink his hard fist into his soft flesh and knock him out with a single blow.

"I have a document here you ought to see," the earl said as he opened the drawer of his writing desk and took out a stack of papers. Nick blinked. Was that a royal seal?

The earl offered them to the duke, but he grunted again, then burped. The archbishop jerked his head back and fanned himself.

"It's a noble cause and has my full support, as well as that of the regent," the archbishop said.

"What is it?" The duke asked, still ignoring his daughter—or did he just give a disapproving look at Nick holding her hand?

Nick stepped closer to Pippa.

"A brigade of soldiers recently came back from the continent and there were several noble sons among them, including my brother-in-law." The Earl of Langley spoke slowly, and Pippa's father set a sausage-fingered hand on the table, leaving a contour of sweat on the polished wooden surface. "You do remember that I married Violet? You were there."

"Yes," the duke growled. "Scott is back then?"

"Indeed, he is. But he's been injured as has the son of the Czar, a Prince from Romania, and several third and fourth sons of peers."

" Hmpf !" Pippa's father truly had the grace of a calving cow.

"I'm letting them rent Cloverdale House for two years," Pippa said. "They need the bedchambers upstairs, servants, and the receiving areas on the lower level. The orangery can provide them with medicinal plants for their recovery, and the access to the gardens will offer them places to reconstitute."

The duke interrupted Pippa, "What's this? You're leasing my house?"

"I'm leasing them my house. It's for a good cause and Prinny signed a decree as you can see. The rent will be backed by the Crown."

Her father scratched his face and a rough sound of nails on stubble made Nick's skin curl. "Pippa, you're such a clumsy goose. You can't rent my house to anyone!"

Nick let go of Pippa's hand and balled both hands into fists, but the Earl of Langley stepped in front of him. "That brings us to the second issue we hoped to discuss with you."

" Hmpf !"

The earl nodded and closed his mouth. A putrid smell emerged from the direction of the duke. It was almost time. They had to hurry before he'd miss the chance to run to a secluded place.

"Pippa wishes to marry Dr. Folsham, and I happen to think it's a marvelous idea. Give your blessing."

"Never." Her father belched again and then a gurgling sound came from his midsection. Ah, the ipecac was taking effect.

"Why don't you want her to marry for love?"

"I don't care who and what she marries for because I won't allow it."

"Because you'll lose access to her trust and the moneys from managing the estate?"

"I'd lose my home if she rented out the castle. I'm sick, but not stupid."

"You're actually not sick, Father. You've been poisoned." Pippa spoke with such dignity, her chin raised high and her back ramrod straight. Nick was proud of her. Clearly, the nobility had a way of handling problems that was new to him. Although he recognized the process. Pippa had prepared the patient and was coming in for the first incision.

The duke was so nasty and disgusting, Nick cringed. He wanted to take Pippa away from him and shield her forever from such scum, regardless of their title.

"Sir Matthews has been poisoning you with mushroom cap in the morning and Si—I mean— Carolyn gave you an extra dose each night."

"Why would they do that and where do you get such ideas from, Pippa? Ridiculous. Poison? You're embarrassing yourself again."

His stomach growled again. He began to sweat and turned an unhealthy green in the worst possible way. "Urp." He patted his hand to his chest. " Urrrrrp !"

"No, Father. You're embarrassing yourself . We've been giving you charcoal to absorb the effects and help you. You just had a second dose of an emetic to release the poison."

"What? You're poisoning me?"

"No, we're trying to purge the poison from you."

"Who's we?"

Nick noticed that Pippa bit her tongue. She had concocted the plan of how to give him the medicines with her cousin Bea's help but it was Nick who'd welcomed Alfie's help in procuring the right doses.

"Me." Nick stepped forward. "I'm a doctor and hate to see patients suffer from charlatanerie. Plus, I wanted you to be alert when I ask for her hand in marriage."

"Denied, boy, I told you. Who's the charlatan now?"

"Mr. Matthews is your father-in-law, did you know that?" Pippa stepped forward. Her voice was rigid.

"Pippa, shut up." Her father bent over and held his massive stomach. With the other hand, he still leaned against the elegant desk. He was too vile to hold to such an exquisite piece of furniture. But he was mostly too vile to be in the company of Pippa, Nick decided.

"She injured my bunny and threatened to kill me with Mother's machete!"

"Oh dear, now you've lost your mind. Where would she find that old thing?"

"In the orangery. The day of the flop with her charity ball, Father. Do you remember? I bred the mosquitos that stung her. About three hundred—or more—larvae. I released them into her bedchamber. She retaliated by trying to kill Truffles."

"You stupid little brat," her father growled, bent lower. He let out an enormous groan and Nick stepped back. It appeared things were coming to a head—for the man's stomach.

The duke panted. "You have… no right to… treat Carolyn with… such disrespect. I thought… they'd gotten those pranks… out of you in finishing school. I had hoped… to be rid… of you if… they give you a little polish and refinement."

He drooled.

So much for polish and refinement, Nick thought.

Pippa ignored it. "Father, I wish to marry Dr. Folsham."

"You should give your blessing," the Earl of Langley said. "With a little luck, you might qualify to stay in your current bedchamber and undergo the rehabilitation program with a real doctor."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Matthews and his daughter are going to be prosecuted for their crimes. Surely poisoning a peer of the Realm and threatening his daughter rank higher than some of their petty fraud, but it will add up."

" What ?"

"There's trickery, attempted murder, breaking and entering, charlatanerie, embezzlement, collusion—" The earl enumerated the various crimes for which Sir Mathews and Wife Six would likely be tried. Once Pippa had felt safe in the knowledge that he and the rest of the doctors at 87 Harley Street would not be affected by Wife Six's blackmail, and with the Earl of Langley and Lance by her side, she was willing and ready to report to the duo's crimes to the constables.

"You damn bastard!" Pippa's father shouted.

The archbishop turned to him with a pointedly arched brow. "Come on now, save your dignity and acknowledge defeat."

"I won't be defeated by my daughter's disgrace. And if I had had a boy, I wouldn't have to put up with this clumsy goose. Look what she's done to me!" He made a terrible throaty noise and gripped his cravat at the same time. "I never want to see her again!"

"But she's your daughter!" Nick protested. "She's precious, smart, intelligent, and there is such goodness in her, you'll never find it again in the whole world!"

"I never want to find her again in the world!" her father blurted out, bending over more deeply and gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles whitened. "All I want is to be rid of her," he groaned.

"You want someone to take her off your hands then?" the earl asked calmly.

"Yes," her father forced the words as if it weren't vomit but all of his evil bubbling under his surface, fighting to come out.

"That's good enough," the archbishop said. He turned to Nick and Pippa and reached his hand out.

His hands were cool, and his touch was gentle. A large seal ring bore a crest that Nick had seen before—the same one he'd seen carved into the staircase at Silver Crest… oh boy !

"Dr. Folsham, you have my blessing and permission to marry Lady Philippa Pemberton." The archbishop gave him a warm smile. Then he turned to the earl. "Is that all?" But Pippa hurried to him and surprised him—and Nick—by kissing his cheek.

"Thank you, Uncle Peter."

"My pleasure. There's nothing better in my line of work than paving the way for true love. And these two," he gestured to Pippa and then Nick, then rubbed his chin, "when they'll kiss, angels will grow wings."

"He just wants her money!" Pippa's father growled.

"That brings me to the third point." The Earl of Langley retrieved a second document from the drawer and put it on the table. The archbishop left with a satisfied smile on his face.

"This is a special license, Dr. Folsham. Consider it a personal token of appreciation for everything you've done for me."

Nick took the scroll and blinked at it.

"And this is a contract you need to sign." The Earl handed him a fountain pen.

"You don't have to," Pippa said quietly. "Not on my behalf."

"I do," Nick said. "On mine." Nick turned to the fifth page where a line was drawn next to his name, printed in bold letters. The preceding four pages listed Pippa's many holdings. His head spun just from looking at the list of her fortune; he couldn't wrap his mind around it, nor did he want to infringe upon her inheritance.

"What's the boy talking about?" Pippa's father asked.

"The ‘boy' is the best eye surgeon in the country, did you know that?" The earl lost his cool demeanor.

"Did he curse Pippa with the spectacles?" her father mumbled.

"No, he diagnosed me with farsightedness." Pippa wrapped herself around Nick's left arm once he'd signed the last paper and handed it back to the earl. "He cured me of clumsiness and now of the mean, diminutive nickname you used about me."

"If you were a far-sighted, clumsy goose, you wouldn't sign your wealth over to a doctor. He'll spend it all."

"No, Father. He just signed a document that will become effective upon the moment of our marriage, and everything will be in my name—and the names of our future children."

"That's farsighted!" The earl said cockily. "My work is done then."

Pippa's father gulped, belched, and heaved.

"Oh dear," Pippa called out.

But Nick had found the wastepaper basket and dropped it at the feet of his future father-in-law. Then they left him alone in the library.