Chapter 23

twenty-three

E DITH MASSAGED THE back of her neck. Her body wasn’t used to reading and focusing all day anymore.

Since she’d made a deal with Perry, she was reading in his study while he read more boring agricultural reports at his desk. Also, she preferred the quiet of his house to the chaos of the constant visitors her parents received. Not to mention that Edith didn’t want to be disturbed by Daphne. Dr. York worked next to Perry, avoiding looking at her whenever he raised his gaze. Still, the fact he stayed there without blushing was an improvement from their last encounters.

She yawned. “I’m rusty.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great. Do not worry,” Perry said, putting aside a folder.

“Medicine is the most noble pursuit,” Dr. York said. “Your father must be proud of you.”

“I love him, and he loves me, but to be honest with you, I expected to see him happier or that he would have hugged me. If anything, he looked angry when I told him I wanted to study again.”

“Because he cares about you and is worried.” Perry reached out and took her hand.

She acknowledged the little quiver at the bottom of her stomach. “At least he promised me to search for a qualified teacher for the test.”

The butler opened the door. “My lord, there’s a Mr. Simmons who wishes to see you and Miss Winkworth.”

Edith tensed. “I’ve never heard the name.”

“Please show him in, Mason.” Perry stood up when a man in a fine, tailored suit walked in.

Mr. Simmons carried a leather bag under his arm. “Lord Ravenscroft, thank you for seeing me. I’m Mr. Simmons, senior solicitor at Thomson its solicitors were employed by the top echelon of aristocracy and politicians. Mr. Simmons had to be there for a serious reason.

“Please take a seat.” Perry exchanged a glance with her.

The solicitor sat down and opened the bag. “I represent Lord Neville St. George, Master of Tallbridge, and Mr. Jonathan Clarke, the owner of the Scarlet Room.”

Edith suppressed a gasp. Dr. York scowled.

Mr. Simmons spread a few documents on the desk. “Miss Winkworth spent a night in the Scarlet Room in the company of Lord Neville. Is that correct?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“Do you recognise your signature in the Scarlet Room’s contract?” He showed her the ten-page contract she’d signed weeks ago.

“I do,” she said.

He flipped through the pages, muttering under his breath. “This section”—he showed her the part in fine prints—“is a binding contract between you and not simply the Scarlet Room’s owner but its customers. I believe you lost a bet against Lord Neville while playing a card game in the Scarlet Room.”

Perry gave her an encouraging nod.

“I did, but what does that have to do with this?” she asked.

Mr. Simmons steepled his fingers together on the desk. “The verbal contract you agreed upon with Lord Neville can be enforced by virtue of the contract you signed.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“In other words,” Perry said, jaw tensing, “unless Miss Winkworth honours the terms of her agreement with Lord Neville, she might be fined.”

“Or go to prison for breaching the agreement,” Mr. Simmons completed.

“This is absurd.” Perry furrowed his brow. “It was a nonsensical bet, and Miss Winkworth has no intention of yielding to Lord Neville’s demands.”

“I don’t really remember having agreed to the bet,” she said. “I was drunk.”

The solicitor raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I have two witnesses, Miss Daphne Ferguson and Mr. Valentine Carter, who claim you only took a few sips of champagne. Hardly drunk.”

“I’m very sensitive to alcohol.”

“I’m afraid that’s not enough. If you truly were incapacitated, then yes, the contract would be null. But as of now, there isn’t enough evidence to support your claim.” Mr. Simmons lifted his shoulders. “I’m here as the legal representative of the Scarlet Room and Lord Neville, and I’m afraid the contract is perfectly legal. Miss Winkworth does risk going to prison for a period between three and ten years, depending on what the judge decides.”

She drew in a breath that burned all its way down to her lungs. “No.”

“There’s a way out of the obligation, of course.” Mr. Simmons held up a hand. “Lord Neville is willing to withdraw his demand if Lord Ravenscroft renounces his title.”

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

“This is blackmailing.” Dr. York scoffed.

“Business, I’m afraid.” Mr. Simmons fished out another document from his infernal bag. “I have everything ready here. My lord, if you wish to read the document and inform your solicitor, we can arrange a meeting tomorrow with the barrister. The alternative is that Miss Winkworth honours the agreement. Lord Neville will be satisfied with any of the two outcomes.”

“I’d rather be involved in another shipwreck than ask Edith to honour something dishonourable.” Perry snatched the document from the solicitor’s hands. “I’ll talk with my solicitor.”

“No.” Edith stopped him by blocking his hand. “You can’t consider renouncing your title. I won’t allow you to ruin your life because of me.”

“You’re more important.” He gave her a sad smile. “You’re everything,” he whispered so low she was likely the only one who heard it.

She drew in a breath as she closed her fingers around his. “Don’t. Please.”

“Lord Ravenscroft?” Mr. Simmons prompted.

Dr. York scraped his chair back and shot up to his feet. “I must speak my mind,” he said. “I have something to say. The contract Miss Winkworth signed in the Scarlet Room isn’t valid.”

Everyone turned towards him. His firm voice and clenched fists were a shock for Edith.

“Yes?” Mr. Simmons asked when Dr. York didn’t say anything. The solicitor’s tone was that of someone losing his patience quickly. “What’s your evidence of the invalidity of the contract?”

Dr. York wiped his hands on his trousers. “It’s not valid because… I have a confession to make.”

Mr. Simmons exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Then please, do go on. We’re all ears.”

“What are you doing, mate?” Perry whispered.

“I was in the Scarlet Room that night. You may ask for evidence from its owner.” Dr. York pointed a finger at Edith. “I drugged Miss Winkworth before she signed the contract. She was unfit to plead at the time she signed that document.”

Dr. York’s attempt to save the situation was admirable, but surely, it was too ridiculous to be taken into account.

“That’s not true,” she said. “It’s absurd.”

“With what did you drug her?” Mr. Simmons asked.

Dr. York jutted out his chin. “I administered her a dose of two hundred milligrams of cocaine, fifty milligrams of opium, and twenty milligrams of an experimental substance called phomine right before she entered the Scarlet Room without her knowledge. While we were waiting in the anteroom in the dark, I approached her with a ready syringe and drugged her. As a consequence of the drugging, she became confused and drowsy, incapable of understanding what the contract entailed. The contract is invalid.”

Mr. Simmons narrowed his eyes to slits. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Please. This is absurd,” Edith said.

Again, everyone turned their attention to Dr. York. Edith was genuinely curious to hear his answer.

He opened and closed his hands. “An experiment. I needed to test a new drug combination on a healthy young female of the same weight as Miss Winkworth. Opportunity met need in the Scarlet Room, and hey presto! I drugged her.”

“An experiment?” Mr. Simmons’s brow spiked with disbelief.

Perry rubbed his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

“For my personal enjoyment,” Dr. York said. “And scientific knowledge.”

A moment of thick silence stretched. She could bet everyone was thinking the same— rubbish .

She huffed. “Dr. York, please. What are you doing?”

The solicitor didn’t even glance at her. “Are you ready to put your declaration on paper?” Mr. Simmons handed him yet another document produced from his leather bag.

“Absolutely.”

“Oliver,” Perry said. “Don’t.”

Dr. York shut him up, lifting a hand. “I had to confess. The truth was weighing me down.” He wrote on the piece of paper under the watchful eye of the solicitor.

“Dr. York, please,” she said. “Don’t do this.”

“Please, Miss Winkworth, don’t interfere. Now you know why you felt dizzy and nauseous that night. It was my fault.”

Mr. Simmons read Dr. York’s confession and added his signature. “Very well. Everything seems in order.”

“So is the contract invalid now?” she asked, sceptical.

“Well, I have to deposit and file Dr. York’s confession to my barrister’s office and have it examined by a judge, but I guess the contract isn’t valid.”

She grinned at Dr. York, who flushed red, fiddling with his collar.

“Naturally,” Mr. Simmons added, “Dr. York’s medical licence will be reviewed by the barrister and most likely rescinded today. Should Miss Winkworth wish to press charges against Dr. York I suggest she visit the nearest police station. I’ll supply a copy of the confession for Miss Winkworth’s perusal.”

“Excuse me?” Dr. York said.

Mr. Simmons stared at him as if Dr. York were a particularly slow dog. “You drugged an unaware woman without her consent, without a proper, previous medical examination just for your entertainment. Miss Winkworth could have died as a result of the drug injection. There could have been unexpected effects on her health. You’ll agree with me, Dr. York, that this behaviour is particularly despicable, not to mention dangerous, for a medical professional, and against your Hippocratic oath. The Royal Medical Council will be notified immediately of your deplorable conduct and take any actions they see fit for your case, which will certainly include a hefty fine, the revocation of your license to practice, and depending upon the barrister, you may be facing imprisonment, no matter what Miss Winkworth does with the charges.”

Dr. York paled. “But…”

“Unless,” Mr. Simmons said, sweetening his voice, “you wish to retract your statement.” He pushed Dr. York’s written declaration towards him. “Your choice, Dr. York.”

“Dr. York,” Edith said at the same time as Perry said, “Oliver, think carefully.”

“Mr. Simmons,” Edith said. “Dr. York is lying. Obviously. He didn’t drug me. For goodness’ sake, the whole story is ridiculous. He would never drug anyone.”

“I can confirm that,” Perry said. “Oliver is the best man I know.”

The solicitor shrugged. “Your opinion doesn’t matter, I’m afraid. If Miss Winkworth was indeed drugged, as Dr. York claims, then her memories aren’t reliable, and Lord Ravenscroft, your judgement is biased and unsubstantiated.”

Dr. York’s lips quivered, but then he straightened. “It’s my decision. No, I will not withdraw my statement. That’s what happened. Miss Winkworth’s contract is null, and… and Lord Neville’s claims are invalid. Lord Ravenscroft will keep his title.”

Mr. Simmons let out a long breath. “As you wish.” He collected the documents and rose. “Good day, my lord, Miss Winkworth, Dr. York.”

The moment he shut the door behind him, Dr. York covered his face with his hands.

“Oh, Dr. York, you shouldn’t have done that.” Edith patted his shivering shoulder. “It was very brave of you, but…” A sob escaped her, too. A good man lost his profession to protect her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ollie.” Perry hugged his friend, patting his back. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Dr. York wiped his face with a handkerchief. “What choice did I have?”

“Wait for me to talk to my solicitor,” Perry said. “Make a plan together.”

“I couldn’t let you renounce your title or let Miss Winkworth be blackmailed by your uncle. Although I admit I didn’t think my plan through. Oh, well. I guess it’s my fault.” Dr. York’s face was ashen.

She choked on guilt. “It’s not your fault, Dr. York.”

He dropped himself onto a chair. “Apologies for sitting, Miss Winkworth, but my legs don’t hold me.”

“Dear Dr. York.” She took his hand. “I’ll find a way to help you.”

He waved dismissively.

“I’ll contact my solicitor immediately,” Perry said.

“All my dreams…” Dr. York shook his head. “Years of studying and sacrifices. My father sold our horse to pay for my studies.”

“Goodness, Dr. York. I’m so sorry.”

He sniffled. “Do not worry, Miss Winkworth. It was my choice. You didn’t ask me to sacrifice myself, but I did it gladly. Perry is the best friend I’ve ever had, and you, Miss Winkworth, are a fine lady.” He rested his forehead on his closed fist. “If we don’t fight for what is good, then for what?”

Edith held his hand again.

There was only one person she could ask for help.