Chapter Forty-Two

"C arolyn, you've brought shame to our family," Pippa said gravely.

"Says the clumsy goose," Carolyn laughed Pippa off and turned to receive support from the crowd.

But none came.

"Carolyn, you schemed with your father against my family, but with the help of the Countess and Earl of Langley, I was able to prove that both of you have colluded against many others in this room."

Silence.

"As the future wife of a doctor, I must not reveal the identities of your victims, but I hope they will come and find the real doctors. There, they will finally get the help they need."

"You have no proof that—"

But Pippa held her hand up and commanded Carolyn to allow her to finish.

"The proof in medicine rests in the body of the patient. Nothing else matters. Your father profited handsomely from the pain he inflicted."

"My father administered medicine—"

"When a patient doesn't consent to taking a medicine, then it's poison. It injures the body. And may I remind you, Carolyn, for a crime against a peer of the Realm, you might hang!"

The crowd remained silent. Pippa knew she had their support. They may have mocked her but when there was a danger posed that threatened the aristocrats, the Ton operated like a closed front. She was using the attribute that Carolyn had relied on to build her ploy for years against her.

"And when your father has to repay the blackmail, I don't suspect he'll have enough mushroom cap powder to influence the guards in the Tower of London to let him out."

"My father is a healer!" Carolyn protested weakly.

"He never made anyone better! That's why he had to make them dependent on his drugs and his stones and his crystals. He needed them to return for more treatments and pay him for more. That's all he cared about. That and getting more information from them to use against them."

"As if the doctors at 87 Harley Street cured…" But Carolyn choked on her words when the Earl of Langley and Lance cast her looks.

"I'm cured," Lance said.

"As am I," the earl added.

"It's not medicine if you make vulnerable people dependent on drugs. More blackmail, more misery, more gossip," Pippa said.

"That's not true."

"Oh, but it is. I've been on the receiving end of your schemes for long enough and I have had enough. Today, my father gave his blessing that I shall marry Dr. Nicholas Folsham and I will make sure that the wedding will be as soon as possible. Not thanks to you, but despite you!"

"And I will help her to arrange the wedding of the year!" Violet called out, her husband's arm wrapped around her.

"As will I!" Bea said.

And then the crowd burst toward them, a wave of aristocrats of all shapes, sizes, and maladies.

"I want to be cured, too," a tall man with a short great beard came to Nick. Another patted his shoulder and asked for an appointment.

"Which one is the orthopedist?" a lady with an orange feather in her upswept hair asked, and Pippa pointed to Andre.

And a swarm of guests encircled Felix.

The crowd was a mess and so many people were around the doctors.

The crowd moved like a single entity, a wave of velvet and silk crashing towards the epicenter of the commotion.

Felix, Andre, and Alfie, the doctors, found themselves in the eye of the storm. Each guest wanted a piece of them, and their personal space was invaded by prying eyes and curious hands. People asked for appointments or just demanded to be seen now, here, in this very room if not sooner.

Of course, the doctors adeptly reminded them they would want the privacy their offices would provide and that they promised each and every patient—unlike Matthews. Pippa felt her heart expand as she knew the practice would be overrun with noble patients for a long time.

Still, some people tried to get medical advice. Andre was subjected to a different kind of scrutiny. A man had taken hold of his hand and tried to place it on his hunchback.

Alfie was led away by a gaggle of ladies, their faces a mix of concern and excitement. They bombarded him with questions about various ailments, each woman eager to share her symptoms and seek his advice.

Amidst the sea of voices, Pippa found Violet and the earl.

They beamed, and the earl had a protective hand on Violet's stomach. As overjoyed as she was for him, Pippa gave him what she hoped was a pleading look. And then he nodded; he'd understood Pippa. He signaled the orchestra to continue their playing.

The music soared with the one-two-three strains of a waltz.

In a few seconds, the crowd had organized themselves and swayed to the music.

"I don't know how to waltz." Nick found Pippa and gave her a sheepish look. "But I'm willing to try if you guide me."

Pippa had never been happier in her entire life. At this ball, everybody came under scrutiny, not just her. And the most vicious tongues were reminded that they were just human, possibly in need of a doctor, most likely two. People aren't perfect, lesson learned. And Pippa hoped the Ton wouldn't forget that any time soon.

"It looks like the practice will be booked up for months," Nick said.

But Pippa had something else on her mind.

She led Nick out of the ballroom. The floors were adorned with gleaming marble tiles meticulously arranged in a classic herringbone pattern, reflecting the warm glow of the crystal chandeliers suspended from the lofty ceiling. Rich, intricate carpets with ornate patterns graced the center of the hallway, offering a sumptuous and inviting path for guests to traverse. After a week at the Langley estate as a guest, Pippa had come to know the house rather well.

"Pippa!" Father's voice came from a settee in the hall. "I heard everything." He patted his forehead with a handkerchief and slumped, his shoulders drawn together with visible tension.

Pippa held Nick's hand and didn't let go as she moved to see Father.

He had removed his cravat and opened the top buttons of his shirt. He looked pitiful, an old man, a mere lump of what he'd been. And she no longer cared.

She'd detached herself from him in a way she never thought possible. Alive, her father had hurt her more than her mother's death had hurt, and she wasn't sure she could forgive him for that.

"You and Bea saved me from the poison, didn't you?"

Pippa nodded. "With charcoal for a few days and the ipecac today. You needed to purge the poison from your body."

"You wanted my permission to marry?"

"Yes."

"You tricked me a little." The duke wagged a finger in the air.

"I provoked you. That wasn't the hard part. But I didn't want your permission as you are now, I wanted it from how you were, when I was little, and Mama was alive."

The duke dipped his head in his hands and groaned into the handkerchief.

When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot and welling up with tears. He addressed Nick. "Is there a chance that I can get better, Doctor? I don't want to be like this anymore." He pointed at himself, top to bottom, and shook his hand off as if he had to rid himself of the disgrace that he'd become.

Nick blinked a few times and cast Pippa a look. But she couldn't give him any direction; he'd been addressed in line with his profession.

"That depends as much on the patient as the doctor. I can only promise to welcome you for a complete physical exam at the practice on Monday morning with our general practitioner."

"It will take a while to get better, Father. I won't be there." Pippa spoke with finality. Her voice was steady, and she stood straight. She felt more grown up than ever before.

"I know the house will be yours. Can I not stay? It's been my home for over thirty years," Father asked. He was pitiful. The man who'd made fun of her when she stumbled over a potted plant, who'd easily used the nickname, "clumsy goose," and who'd discarded her like an old shoe. Her! His daughter.

He hadn't mourned her mother and had just occupied the place in their marriage bed with another and then another and another. Pippa's heart had frozen for him and splintered; it was still broken. And the heartbreak a father caused ran deeper than even death's pain of loss.

"I leased the house to Violet. It's going to be a rehabilitation center for wounded sons of the peerage," she reminded him. "With Prinny's approval."

"I'm wounded, Pippa. And I was a son of the peerage once, but I've lost the self-respect of my station." He shook his head. "I could at least show the boys how not to become like me."

Pippa cast Nick a glance and he shrugged. "A doctor never gives up on a patient."

"A daughter never gives up on her father," Pippa decided.