Chapter 8

eight

N OT FOR THE first time that night, Perry wondered why he’d agreed to come to the chaotic, noisy, and crowded Scarlet Room.

One thing had to be said about the place—no one bothered him. He’d sat in a relatively quiet corner of the club, watching people do all sorts of depravities—some more interesting than others—and not one person had tried to drag him out of his corner or asked him why he didn’t join the fun.

Oliver was playing pool with a group of rowdy gentlemen, laughing and singing so loudly Perry was sure his friend would have a sore throat the next day. Aside from playing pool and making silly jokes about the balls, Oliver’s companions didn’t do anything outrageous; they were also fully clothed. There was really something for everyone in the Scarlet Room.

He twirled his glass of whiskey. The ice had melted half an hour ago. He hadn’t drunk a single drop because alcohol and seizures weren’t a good combination. But not holding a glass at a party was usually frowned upon, although Oliver had assured him no one would care. Anyway. The glass gave him something to toy with.

He needed to keep his hands busy because staying here was a pointless exercise. And he’d signed a contract and paid seven quid for this rubbish.

If he had to be honest, years ago, when he’d sought only pleasure, he would have lost himself in a place like that, doing everything, talking with everyone, or trying that intriguing sensual game with the ropes. Now he preferred a piano concert or a gripping book. The only good thing was that, if he had a seizure here, no one would mind or say anything. There was some comfort in that.

He took a walk around the wide room; it was as wide as a cricket field. He couldn’t see the other end, so tightly it was crowded. He strolled, not caring about what people did. Half-naked people, drunk people, people stunned by the opium. Usual things. This type of excitement was overrated and had stopped exciting him a long time ago.

His wandering came to an abrupt halt upon seeing someone he hadn’t expected to see.

Not here. Not now. Not like that.

Dr. Edith Winkworth was drinking champagne and playing cards at a table, wearing only her chemise, corset, bloomers, and stockings. The dark-haired woman next to her was equally undressed. Of the two gentlemen with her, he could see only a blond one who seemed in the buff. The other was half hidden by a Grecian column.

But he didn’t give a damn about the card players. His attention focused exclusively on Edith. Sweet, beautiful, bookish Edith. The woman who had called him a hedonist and wanted her Christmas kiss.

She climbed on the chair, waving her cards as if they were a fan. Her companions beat their hands on the table, inciting her to dance. She obliged, shaking her hips while unfastening her garter. Her hair was down, reaching her waist in a golden cascade.

A cold shock went through him. The half-naked woman dancing on that table couldn’t be Edith—the quiet, serious scholar who had sent him long letters about her efforts to become a doctor. Or maybe he was a damn prude.

She improvised a can-can dance, raising her leg up. The woman at the table clapped and whistled before whispering into her companion’s ear. The blond man grabbed Edith and carried her across the room, singing with her. She tossed her cards around with a flourishing gesture, seemingly not caring about the man holding her in a rather intimate manner.

Perry followed them in a trance. Edith hadn’t replied to his invitation for tea. He’d thought she was too busy to see him. She was busy indeed.

He mentally scolded himself for judging her. He’d done the same things she was doing, and perhaps tonight was only a temporary diversion from the stressful life of a doctor. Anyway, how Edith passed her evenings was none of his business. He didn’t deny being curious and a little worried, though.

The man headed for the swimming pool in the middle of the room, followed by the dark-haired lady.

“A dive!” the lady yelled, raising a fist.

Oh, no. Perry hitched a breath. As far as he knew, Edith hadn’t overcome her utter fear of the water, although she might be all right in a small pool.

Edith’s laughter ceased. She gripped the man tightly, her face paling and her hands like claws.

No, maybe not.

“No, not the pool,” she screamed.

“It’s shallow,” the woman said. “Not deep at all.”

“No, no, no!” Edith’s piercing scream of fear rent the air.

She struggled against the man, but he kept laughing and carrying her. Her fear took Perry out of his stupor.

He marched towards them. “The lady said no.”

The man ignored him and threw Edith into the water. Her shout of pain and fear chilled Perry’s blood. He rushed past the man and the lady as Edith sank into the water with a big splash, sinking out of view. He didn’t bother removing his clothes and dived into the pool.

It wasn’t as shallow as the woman had said. His feet barely touched the bottom, and Edith was fully submerged. He groaned when Edith stopped moving, her limbs growing stiff. She didn’t even shiver. The pool might not be deep, but in the panicked, paralysed state Edith was, she could drown.

His heart pounding in fear, he pulled her up. She was frozen in shock and so pale even her lips had lost colour.

“Edith.” He cupped her face, searching her beautiful green eyes, but if she recognised him, she didn’t give any signs. “It’s me. Please say something.”

Her companions were nowhere to be seen, and he couldn’t care less. He gathered her in his arms and climbed out of the pool, dripping water from his suit. Climbing out wasn’t an easy procedure given his lack of coordination and the slippery tiles. His heavy, wet clothes didn’t help.

The indifference of the people he’d been so grateful for minutes ago now irked him. No one came forth to help him, likely thinking he was only playing some wicked game with a half-naked, half-unconscious woman.

Holding Edith, he made his way through the crowd of people who were dancing, drinking, and kissing until he found an empty spot.

“Edith.” He laid her down on a sofa and patted her cold cheeks. Her eyes wide open but unblinking worried him. “Please say something.”

She wheezed. Each breath sounded raspy. Her pupils were so dilated they turned the whole irises black. He unhooked her corset and shrugged off his wet jacket to cover her. Her wet chemise was plastered to her skin, hiding nothing.

Spewing out water, she took a big breath that brought some colour to her cheeks, but fear clouded her eyes.

“It’s all right.” He rubbed her back, holding her. “You’re out of the water. You’re safe.”

She shivered, resting her cheek on his chest. His heartbeat pounded faster out of sheer fear for her.

Even though he didn’t remember anything of the night of the incident after the blow to his head, holding her, drenched and shivering, brought him back to the inky water of the Thames.

She could have drowned in the pool, paralysed by shock. She could have died under the indifferent gazes of the people thinking only about their own pleasure.

“Edith.” He caressed the top of her head. “You’re safe.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. She could collapse if she didn’t breathe deeply. He had no idea if she’d been underwater for too long. His breath sped up with all the horrible possibilities. He’d been slow and clumsy. She might have been without oxygen for too long.

She blinked, finally gazing at him. “Perry?” Her lips quivered.

A little, involuntary spasm started in his arm, and it was his turn to freeze.

Not now .

A bitter taste filled his mouth. The spasms made him release her none too gently as the seizure took hold of him. He tried to fight it, tried to force his muscles to loosen, but he blacked out.

Edith still remembered a few things about seizures—the patient’s head needed to be kept still and slightly up to prevent suffocation, and even the legs needed to be held down if they started kicking to avoid injuries or straining the muscles.

The shock of seeing Perry drop to the floor had woken her up from her freezing panic. After she held his head still on her lap, she didn’t have time to think about what Perry was doing in the Scarlet Room of all places.

Edith swept her gaze through the room, but the people around her didn’t pay her the slightest bit of attention. Those who did looked away disgusted. Daphne, Valentine, and Neville had vanished.

“What’s happening to him?” a man asked, stepping away.

“Help me,” she said.

The man ignored her.

“It’s all right, Perry.” She stroked his cheek.

He convulsed, heels kicking against the tiles, but she didn’t let him go.

As the seizure died down, he sagged against her, his arms becoming limp. His eyes rolled back into the skull, and his mouth twitched. Edith’s heart clenched for him. He’d written to her the seizures weren’t common, but they still plagued him. The uncertainty of not knowing when he might have a fit had to be exhausting for him.

“You’re safe,” she whispered, sweeping his wet hair from his cheek.

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.” A woman stared at them in shock. “Sick people shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to catch a disease.”

“It’s not contagious,” she yelled. Wasted breath.

The woman marched away, followed by her friends who showed matching frowns.

Perry stirred and groaned, catching her attention.

Perry . She couldn’t believe it was really him.

The scandal of the Earl of Ravenscroft marrying an opera singer from the Americas and renouncing the title had filled the newspapers for weeks on end, but not a drop of ink had been spared about Perry. No newspaper had mentioned his return to London or his newly acquired title. In fact, if it hadn’t been for their correspondence, she wouldn’t know anything about him.

“Perry,” she whispered, which likely meant he couldn’t hear her since everyone around them was shouting or singing.

He fluttered his eyes open, and once again, the clear blue of his eyes struck her. Why had she thought his eyes were similar to Neville’s? They were nothing alike. Neville’s eyes had a constant, hard glint that chilled her. Perry’s eyes were warm and had a naughty twinkle that cheered her up.

“Edith.” He tried to move his head off her lap, but she stopped him.

“Don’t. You need a moment to recover. How do you feel?”

“Sore.” He opened and closed his hands slowly. “How are you?”

Cold, shocked, worried, ashamed. At least the water had got her sober.

“I’m fine. You took me out of the pool, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes. You were petrified.” His speech was a little hesitant, but nevertheless, it was a miracle he talked.

Goodness, she’d missed his deep voice so much. After all, she’d heard it for only a few hours during their careless stroll through the Rosherville Gardens before the incident.

He grimaced again. “I was horribly scared when I saw you sinking. Then the seizure hit me. Thank you for your help.”

She took advantage of his position to check the pulse in his neck. It beat steadily. During the seizure, it’d spiked to a frenzy.

He watched her with a solemn gaze that seemed to see right through her lies. Certainly, he had questions about her behaviour. What he knew about her was a fairy tale of her own making. A recently graduated doctor should be in a hospital, training and working with the patients, not in an infamous club.

“I’m all right. I can stand up.” He slowly propped himself up on his elbows before sitting next to her on the floor.

He didn’t say anything but stared at her. His wet eyelashes were spiked together, and his white shirt was plastered over his chest muscles.

She tugged at the jacket covering her; it had to belong to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your invitation.”

“I guessed you were busy.”

There was a note of sarcasm in his tone, or maybe she simply felt guilty.

“Goodness, you can talk.” She couldn’t stop a smile. “Hearing your voice again is wonderful. You wrote that you didn’t speak well. You were too hard on yourself.”

“I have some bad days.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. It fell nicely over his strong jaw. “I’m glad to see you despite what happened.” He waved towards the pool and between them.

“I’m glad, too.”

She was about to ask him what he was doing in a place like the Scarlet Room when a blond man stopped in front of them. He had to be one of the few gentlemen still fully clothed or dry. His brown suit was pristine. Not a crease on it.

“I say!” The man grinned from eye to eye. “A completely drenched lady, wearing your jacket, and you’re drenched as well on the floor with her. That’s the reason I took you here.”

“Excuse me?” She pulled the lapels of Perry’s jacket closer, shivering. After the scare had passed, her wet clothes chilled her.

Perry exhaled. “Dr. Edith Winkworth, may I introduce you to Dr. Oliver York? I wrote about him in my letters.”

Dr. York thrust his chest out as if proud.

Dr. Winkworth . Dash it. Edith stopped herself from correcting him. It wasn’t the right moment.

“I’m not simply a doctor,” Dr. York said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. “I’m Lord Ravenscroft’s best friend, personal physician, and future alienist as soon as I finish my treatises.” He winked at Perry. “Not everyone can say that. In fact, only I can.”

Edith gave the doctor a bow of her head. It was odd to have such a polite, formal introduction while being half-naked and drenched. But to his credit, the doctor’s stare didn’t linger on her legs. He seemed happy for whatever reason.

“Fantastic. Fantastic.” Dr. York bowed. “Dr. Winkworth, I’m happy to make your acquaintance, and I’m pleased we’re colleagues.”

Not really .

“Please carry on doing whatever you were doing with Perry before my interruption.”

“Actually, I want to go home,” Perry said. “I’ve just had a seizure.”

Dr. York’s face changed instantly, becoming serious. “A seizure? How long did it last? Was there stiffness involved or spasms? What triggered it?” He patted his jacket and trousers.

“I don’t know.” Perry nodded at the pool. “I jumped into the water, and after I came out, I had the seizure.”

“Why did you jump into the pool?” Dr. York fished out a notepad and a pencil from his pocket.

“My friends tossed me into the pool as a jest,” Edith said. “Perry helped me get out. I’m not fond of water. He was very kind.”

“ Very kind ,” Dr. York repeated under his breath, writing on the notepad.

“May I escort you home?” Perry asked.

Home? Now? Absolutely not. She needed to get dry, dressed, and composed before returning home. Or rather, sneaking into her bedroom without waking up her parents.

“I don’t want to go home. My friend, Daphne, is here.”

His dark eyebrows formed a deep V. “Your friend did nothing to help you. She encouraged that man to toss you in the water.”

Yes, that was something she’d discuss with Daphne. “I know, but we came together.”

“You could have died,” he insisted.

“I’ll give her a piece of my mind, but I should seek her.” Her voice trembled. Lying in a letter was one thing, but lying to his face was quite another. “I don’t want to go home in this state.” That was likely the first true thing she’d told him in years.

Perry opened his mouth, but Dr. York cut him off.

“I have a fantastic idea as usual. Why doesn’t Dr. Winkworth come to Perry’s house? As a physician, miss, you should know you might catch a cold unless you change into dry clothes. Perry will be more than happy to provide assistance, won’t you, Perry?”

“Of course.” Perry kept frowning. “Where are your clothes?”

“Over there at the card table.” She made her way across the room with Perry protecting her from the crowd like a gargoyle and Dr. York muttering something she didn’t catch.

The table where she’d played cards with Neville, Valentine, and Daphne was empty, and her shoes and clothes had disappeared as well.

She shivered, trying to cover more of her legs. “I don’t have any idea where my clothes or friends could be.”

“I should have offered you my jacket earlier.” Dr. York handed her his jacket. “Perry’s is wet as well. So, will you come with us, miss? We promise to be gentlemen.”

Perry’s frown was so deep she wondered if it’d leave a permanent crease on his brow.

Well, she needed to get dry and change, and going to Perry’s house was better than going home half naked and dishevelled. Not to mention she was angry with Daphne for how she’d behaved.

Also, she had no doubt Perry would be a gentleman.