Chapter Three

I n the black carriage donning the golden emblem of a lion's head on the side, Lexi sat in the back. The tall man called Puck drove the one-horse carriage himself and had let the roof down.

Lexi leaned forward.

"Have you been there before?"

"Many times."

"To the dentist or Harley Street?"

"Both."

"Are you going to tell me anything, or must I keep asking questions?"

Puck chuckled, and Lexi hissed—but even pulling cold air through her teeth sent a jolt of pain inside her mouth along the dreaded path of her jaw. She sighed. As much as she didn't want to go, she knew it was the right action to take.

"You know the gentlemen play a game with the beer bottle. It's a dangerous battle of speed our patrons enjoy," Puck called over his shoulder as he shook the reins.

"Oh?"

"And the ones with the wine cork have to pull it out of the bottle with their teeth and spit as far as they can. It's a wager."

"Are these the games the men play at the Lyon's Den?"

"And more! Have you ever seen one bite his tooth out? Spit some blood? Break a tooth or two?"

"No. But you bring them there then? To the dentist?"

"Yes. Mrs. Dove-Lyon has a tab with him."

Lexi felt her heart sink. Of all the places she thought the Black Widow of Whitehall had a tab, the dentist would not have come to her mind; she'd thought there would rather be from liquor importers to the seamstresses for wedding gowns. And she certainly didn't want a husband who'd gamble his future away for a cork-spitting contest over which he lost his teeth and earned Lexi as a wife.

"This dentist at 87 Harley Street, do you know him?"

"Felix, of course. Everybody knows him."

"How so?"

"Well, it's logical. The dukes, earls, viscounts, and barons come to us on nights filled with games and gambling. But then they must smile in the House of Lords the next day. How do you fathom they go from spitting blood at night to leading our country in the morning?"

She didn't dare imagine.

"It's like Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, at 87 Harley Street, miracles happen. There's a dentist—the best one in Europe—a pharmacist, an orthopedist, and an oculist." Puck pulled the horses' reins. "They even have a nurse."

Lexi took little comfort in the credibility of the medical establishment. She didn't want to need it. It clashed with her worldview, for she'd have to admit fault, a flaw, and the need for treatment. Simply unacceptable.

"You'll be in good hands with your tooth there. And Mrs. Dove-Lyon will find you a match; she's the miracle worker in matters of the heart," Puck said as the carriage stopped but Lexi hesitated. Hadn't Mrs. Dove-Lyon used the same words? "Here we are." He hopped off the driver's bench and extended his hand to Lexi.

"Thank you," she said as she laid her hand in his and descended from the carriage.

"Oh, nothing to thank me for. You will smile again soon."

"I will be hideous when I do. I shan't smile again, Puck." She pressed her lips together.

"You will. Felix is the best dentist in Europe and has even invented many tricks to make the aristocrats smile again."

Puck cast her a toothy smile. He had large fillings in his back teeth, but it didn't look like any were missing. But before Lexi could blink and take a second look, he put his other hand on hers. "I've seen men having their teeth pulled. Don't worry; I'll bring you some ice to decrease swelling. Helps with the bruises, too."

"Bruises?" Her breath caught. Bruises would be noticeable and therefore, they would be unacceptable.

"Well, yes. Sometimes, the cheeks and neck turn all shades of blue and purple. It takes a while to heal, too. But if you are like most women, you won't lose consciousness, and soon there'll be just a little gap and a faint memory."

Lexi stepped backward and hit the carriage with her back. "What?" She almost pulled her hands away from the man so she could run in the other direction. What was she doing here?

Her heart pounded hard in her chest, throbbing in her head—even her teeth pulsed in the vulnerable spot.

"Let's go back. I'll be all right." She turned around and with her free hand unhitched the latch to the carriage door when Puck laid his free hand on her shoulder.

"We have orders. You're not going back with that bad tooth. It'll just get worse." He didn't let go of her hand and brought her inside. Apparently, it was all true: when and what Mrs. Dove-Lyon commanded, one obeyed.

Lexi dropped her head and followed Puck inside.

Meanwhile, in the back kitchen on the ground floor of 87 Harley Street, Dustin finished the saffron rice he'd made for his hosts. Even though he knew Felix well, the other doctors and nurse Wendy at the practice warmly welcomed him. The least he could do, Dustin thought, was to cook some of his unique dishes for them with spices he'd brought from India.

"It's sweet. Felix gave you his room. It's like you are his younger twin." Wendy was a pretty girl but spoke too much for Dustin's taste. She seemed to have an opinion on everything and considered herself an equal to the doctors even though girls couldn't study at university. While the doctors were highly specialized, Wendy's specialty lay not with the craft but rather with the people who received treatment. Dustin admired her for that at least. She knew how to handle difficult patients or soothe the fearful, and she was a very knowledgeable nurse.

She set a plate and a cup of tea in front of him. "Would you like some toast, Your…" She paused and frowned. "How should I address you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you are a duke, right? But if I call you Your Grace, everybody will know—"

"How do you know?" Dustin groaned. "Did Felix tell you?"

"No, I overheard."

"With your head against the door or the wall?" Dustin gave a lop-sided smirk and cast her his most ducal look. She didn't bite and wrinkled her nose like a cheeky schoolgirl.

"That's not important, Your Grace."

"Just Dustin, please."

"As you wish, Your Grace." She smirked. Wendy was too bright for a girl, a little dangerous even. Altogether, too much work. Plus, her brother was too close to safely ogle her, regardless of how pretty she was.

"What else did Felix not tell you about me but that you know?"

"That you have nothing to your title and wish it to pass to your cousin."

"Yes, John is well-suited."

"Why?"

"He's… how shall I put it…"

"Let me guess. He wants the title so badly he doesn't care about the estate's debts. Is he willing to marry a rich woman to pay off the debts and secure his place in society?"

Too bright, precisely as he'd guessed. "Yes."

"Well, I know exactly where he will find such a woman."

"What?"

"At the Lyon's Den. Everybody knows about it, but nobody admits it."

"I don't know it."

"Because you're not from London and not old enough."

"I'm twenty-four!"

"That's neither here nor there. The Lyon's Den is a gambling hall where men with titles go and run the risk of coming out married to a wealthy bride."

"Sounds like a marriage market. Loveless."

"Not at all. Even though nobody quite knows how Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the owner, manages it, every match she strikes is a raging success."

" Pfft !"

"If you don't believe me, go there. Check it out and see if your cousin is already gambling, for the title hasn't quite passed to him yet. When is it passing?"

"In two weeks, if I continue to stay lost at sea or wherever they think I am."

"Ah, that's when you want to be on a ship to America already?"

"Exactly."

"Coward!"

"I beg your pardon?" She really was too forward. Living at Harley Street was going to be a challenge in more ways than one, he realized.

"Isn't there a history and pride associated with your family's holdings?"

"What is everybody's problem with history and pride? My cousin is family, too. Let him uphold it."

"What is more important to you than all you seek to leave behind so desperately?"

"Honor and principle. Love. Devotion for the people you love."

"Ah!"

"You don't believe me?"

"No. It sounds like the easier road to take. Very convenient and self-indulging."

Dustin's food didn't taste good anymore. The obnoxious nurse had put two and two together and figured out he'd rather chase the man who'd tricked his father than remain at Starcliff Castle to repair what had been harmed by the wrong business. How could he fix his life?