Page 12 of A Wager at Midnight (Betting Against the Duke #2)

Chapter 12

S TEPHEN —O NE W EEK L ATER , S TILL IN T ROUBLE

June 9, 1817 Fourteen Fournier Street Cheapside District, London

I t’s very bright when I step out of the house onto my portico. I believe I had my housekeeper and Benny shutter every window and draw close all curtains at my town house on Fourteen Fournier Street. I needed darkness to recover from my foolishness, my shame. The way my eyes hurt and how I can’t stop blinking suggests my penance is not enough. I have to pay more. And the exact amount I need to dole out, I’ll find out sooner facing the world than hiding.

Yet, I’m surprised the Duke of Torrance has not darkened my door or my face.

“Good morning, Mr. Carew.” Benny comes out of an entrance near the lowest level of Fourteen Fournier. He’s dressed in his dark mantle and hat, ready to start our day. “Plenty of appointments fi catch up on, sir. But a week of rest is well earned.”

I’m at the top of the steps at the first level. He’s coming from his quarters, where a future wine cellar will go. This floor houses my study, parlor, and a small dining room. Upstairs holds bedrooms, perhaps space for a future nursery.

Of course it could be a current classroom for my young bride, bride-to-be. I can’t believe I compromised my friend. I’m a fool.

Benny comes up my stone steps. Two away from the top, he stops. “Yuh ready to talk?”

Talk about me being a fool, no. Talk about how I need to go propose to Scarlett Wilcox for compromising the girl in my supervision. . . no.

I wave at him. “Benny, I promised my housekeeper a light schedule. After a few appointments, I believe I have to go see about a young woman.”

Those eyes of his are full of skepticism. “Mr. Carew, meh not a physician but since dis is the first day that yuh up and about from fainting in a gentleman’s club and sleeping in a brothel, meh think a light day would work best.”

Guess Benny wants to talk about it. The more he does, the stronger his accent becomes.

I glance up at my eaves and then the pretty blue sky. “In that list of faults, I hear nothing about Miss Wilcox.”

“What about her? She neva sleep in a brothel. Meh assume she gets plenty of rest.”

I cup my hands to my eyes to hide my frustration. I deserve this torment. A glance about my peaceful neighborhood, I see that many properties have been restored as I’ve begun with mine.

Fournier Street is a testament to deliberate effort and planning. The people who decide to move here do so to be committed. “This section of town was once home to many leaders in textile. The Huguenots were chased away. We who move here are all building the future.” I guess after losing Eveline, I got my assets in order. This house is ready for a bride.

My neighbor, Mr. Croome, rides by in his large dray. He’s the head of a proud Blackamoor family and possesses a booming cloth business. He and his wife and their two daughters live at Nineteen Fournier. The shimmering new slate roof is the first undertaking they’ve done on the large corner lot.

“Sir. Yuh need to—”

“The work we’ve done here makes me proud, Benny. The fresh white paint and gorgeous tiles overhead look good. This is very different from my parents’ pine board home in Port of Spain.”

“Yeah, yuh finally put down roots and Eveline Gray flew away. Mr. Carew, yuh have a way of avoiding t’ings until too late.”

“How can I avoid things, Benny? My house and finances state I’m ready to wed. That wasn’t my circumstance with Eveline. I had a plan. She couldn’t wait. Apparently, my behavior last week says I couldn’t wait to ruin my friend.” I cover my face. “Oh, Benny. I must be one of those predatory individuals who seek out brides fresh from their cribs. My mother married very young. It wasn’t good. Sometimes, I think I was sent away, so I’d not see her troubles.”

Benny reaches the landing, grips my shoulders, and shakes me. “Come out of dis foolishness. Yuh have no new bride, young or otherwise. Unless yuh proposed to your housekeeper, yuh safe.”

I take a full breath. Then grab Benny’s hands and shove them away. “Well, I need to propose. As a gentleman, it’s the only right thing.”

“Sir, dis about Scarlett Wilcox? That lady not telling anyone. When I got yuh out of Madame Rosebud’s, she made me promise no talking. Or she sew meh mouth closed.”

I want to laugh. Scarlett does have a temper, but I don’t think she’ll actually harm anyone. Well, I haven’t known her to do so.

Yet fragments of Scarlett trying to throttle me or shake me awake dance in my head. Nothing is clear—not what she did or what I allowed to occur or even the liberties I took. “There are two things I know for certain—well, fairly certain. I passed out in White’s, and I was with Scarlett Wilcox in a brothel. Both of these things are wrong.”

Benny folds his arms. “Actually, di Duke of Torrance and di Earl of Livingston are responsible. One let her dress as a man. Di other bought her a prostitute.”

“But it was me in bed with Scarlett Wilcox. Me.”

My man-of-all-work comes at me, his stance aggressive.

He slows when I put up my fists. “Benny?”

My man stops. “Hold on a minute. Miss Wilcox said yuh shirt and waistcoat were wet. Did yuh lose yuh clothes with Wilcox in bed?”

Everything is blurry. Did I kiss her or was that a dream? “Maybe?”

Benny starts to spin as he marches from side to side on my portico. “I saw yuh in bed with no one. Yuh and Miss Scarlett?”

So, Scarlett can keep a secret better than I. “I know . . . pretty sure nothing happened.” I rub at my brow and start to laugh at myself. “You took the job of being my man-of-all-work for adventure. I’ve given you plenty this last week.”

Benny stops. His back is to me. “May meh be frank, sir.”

Isn’t he always? “Yes. Speak.”

“Yuh always talking about Scarlett Wilcox.”

“No, Benny. Well maybe.”

“Yuh do, and especially since Torrance’s ball last year. And definitely after Eveline Gray. Even when yuh argue yuh praise Miss Wilcox. Do yuh love her?”

“No. No. I like her. She’s brilliant. I promised her father to mentor her, not take advantage of her.” I’m watching Benny shake his head at me. “Go on say it. Tell me how foolish I am for complaining about someone I’ve compromised.”

“Don’t worry, sir. Perhaps she can work at the hospital yuh wanted.”

“Work with her? I’m not trying to die early, but last week’s escapade shows it’s possible Scarlett Wilcox will kill me.”

He gets closer. “If she want yuh dead, why didn’t she tell di duke?”

I open my mouth to say he’s wrong, but Benny is right. “There’s a reason I keep you around.”

He releases a big sigh. “Hopefully, it’s not to pull yuh out of brothels. But di brothel is my fault. Livingston said to go there. I didn’t listen to the smart person in di carriage.”

“Miss Wilcox.” My tone sounds flat. I’m not asking a question. More so confirming that she’s smart and I’m an idiot.

“Sorry for getting worked up,” Benny says. “Have yuh eaten? If yuh haven’t, yuh can go back in. No going anywhere.”

I want to offer Benny a cutting remark about him not being responsible for me, but my judgment seems faulty. “Two eggs, toast, and a scone that tastes of cinnamon. And my housekeeper has plied me with lots of coffee. Do you accept this, Benjamin?”

“Very good, sir. Don’t mean to be a stick in de mud, but I was advised to take yuh nowhere unless yuh had a proper meal and rest. The consequences dem did sound dire. Miss Wilcox can be a terror. She threaten fi mek di duke send me to freezing St. Petersburg if meh fail yuh again.”

Scarlett’s way with words and threats are chilling. “Benny, did I give Miss Wilcox flowers? That’s part of what little I can remember. Daisies.”

Benny looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind again. “Prostitutes, Daisy and Chrysanthemum, led me to the room where yuh lay half naked. Miss Wilcox stood fully dressed as a man. Do those flowers come back to yuh remembrance? Or dey bed part?”

“Oh, that. I’m dead.”

“Wilcox and dey two flowers have more sense than the earl.”

My head aches anew. This is not the conversation I wish to have.

“Sir, look pon dis way. Yuh here, alive, not inna jail, and no newspaperman talk ’bout, ‘Trinidadian Immigrant Doctor’s Fall from Grace.’”

“I’m a physician, but you’re right. The newspapers won’t give me the courtesy of getting my profession right.”

Benny taps his foot. “Been checking dey papers every day. So far, no mention of any t’ing at Madame Rosebud’s or White’s.”

If I sigh, I’m sure all the air, good and bad, will leave my chest and I’ll be a deflated puddle on my steps. “In the future, do not listen to the Earl of Livingston. He lives for brothels. I on the other hand—”

“No one holds yuh interest for long, not since Eveline Gray, ’cept Miss Wilcox.”

“You know the aunties. They haven’t exactly liked anyone else. They continue to try to find another candidate but they compare them to Miss Gray, now Lady Derand, a baroness, not a physician’s wife.”

“Sir, when yuh lost Miss Gray, yuh change up yuh plans. Yuh did waan fi be more successful, and yuh overwork yuhself fi reach deh. Look pon Fourteen Fournier. Yuh a real gentleman, but yuh need fi relax. Consider dis escape a blessing in disguise.”

Benny is usually a good man to noodle out problems with, but this logic has taken a left turn off the main thoroughfare. “I don’t understand. How am I blessed if I did wrong?”

“Scarlett Wilcox comes with de dowry from the Duke of Torrance. Yuh know that will be a big bundle. Yuh can get back to building dat hospital. Marrying her comes with money. Yuh can have it all, de practice, de patients, de hospital, and de pretty wife.”

“A practical marriage?” The last thing I’d ever do is use a friend for my gain. Still, there’s much to consider and to be thankful for. “Well, it seems Miss Wilcox protected me from contracting a condition or adding to the fatherless count of children in London. I’m very fortunate to have friends like you and Miss Wilcox. Benjamin, I thank you.”

Offering an understanding smile, he says, “At least yuh weren’t nauseous when I got yuh. When I drove de hackney, I had tuh clean out meh carriage when drunkards became ill.”

Being compared to the sick and sotted is not a comfort.

“Let’s go, sir.”

We head down and walk to the rear where the mews is. Benny, as always, has my horses and carriage ready. He flings open my Berlin’s door. “See, no refuse. But it do smell of roses. Couldn’t get rid of di smell.”

My laughter blends with Benny’s, but then he sobers. “Should’ve listened to Miss Wilcox. Better sense and less to clean.”

“But at least the experience scared her. She’ll know better than to be dressing as a man pretending—”

“No, sir.” Benny’s head is moving up and down as if he is a marionette and someone is pulling strings. “Don’t t’ink she t’inks dat at all. The young woman talked to meh man-to-man so to speak. She shamed me, sir. Pretty wise for a man . . . woman.”

“Wait? What?”

“Miss Wilcox, she’s a good one. Didn’t seem to care for her own reputation, and she wasn’t trying to trap yuh. A good one.”

“She needs to take more care. Running around town in disguise is dangerous.”

“You live a careful life, Mr. Carew. Maybe too careful.”

“I’m not a saint, Benny, but I care about my reputation. Men like Livingston can live like fools but still be listened to.” I grip the door handle hard. I want to rip it off. “I don’t have that luxury. I hate to say lady’s right.”

“Lady?” Benny shakes his head. “Sir. Meh yuh lady.”

Of course. Yes. A woman who risked her safety and reputation for me, should be mine. “Benny, I’m stupid.”

“So, yuh propose to her, den let her meet de aunties so dey can’t spook her.”

The aunties are married women of our immigrant community. They are treasures. Only one, Telma Smith, my beloved Tantie Telma, is related. But the aunties adopt everyone, everyone who lives in Cheapside and has any percentage of the Caribbean in their blood.

“If the aunties get wind of meh taking yuh to Madame Rosebud’s.” Benny grimaces. “Meh in trouble.”

I cross my arms, dragging creases across my indigo waistcoat. “I can handle the aunties. But I have bigger things to attend to. I owe it to Miss Wilcox to make sure her honor is preserved. Her father and the duke would expect it.”

As I get into the carriage, Benny nods. “Des funny. Miss Wilcox knows a t’ing about honor. She bribed the two prostitutes to keep yuh reputation safe and get yuh out unseen.”

He closes the door. “Meh a better opinion of Scarlett Wilcox. Not spoiled. She has principles. She fights for ’em, and yuh. Where to?”

“To Anya House. I need to thank her, then wring her and Torrance’s necks, then claim his permission and Lady Hampton’s to wed Scarlett Wilcox. It’s the honorable thing to do.”

Benny dips his head. “If yuh say so. Gonna wait over there long time.”

“Why a long time?”

He pulled at the puffed cloth interior, the carpeting on the floor. “Could try to get rid of the rosewater smell at de duke’s. De mews’s well equipped. Then need time to dry.” Benny looks like he’s calculating figures. “Yes, four hours. That should be enough time for yuh to wait for Miss Wilcox to return.”

“Return? Is she across the Thames? We can go there. And I can check on two patients along the way. That will give me more time to come up with a way to propose. It should be a grand gesture. How do I come up with one on such short notice?”

“Sir, we will still have to wait. Miss Wilcox, or shall I say Master Wilcox, will be at Somerset House again this week. She talked to herself. She finding de words to say to the earl when des both there. Something ’bout anatomy.”

“No. Benny? She’s at it again.” I release a long breath. “I’m gonna need to calm down. Let meh go get a tonic for Master Wilcox and let my temper ease. Can’t get my proposal wrong. It’ll have to be big for her . . . and Torrance. There, dat’s a plan.” I take long breaths and roll my tongue and collect myself.

“Very good, sir.”

I get out and head inside my house. Then, I’ll be shortly on my way to catch my wayward manly bride. I hope when Scarlett marries me, she’ll stop this ridiculous dressing like a man. Maybe the only way to protect her is to marry her.

Hmmm. Making her a physician’s wife and impressing upon her the need to avoid our name being linked to scandal might safely clip her wings. A wife . . . my wife. Suddenly this solution doesn’t sound so bad. Since the Duke of Torrance and Lady Hampton have been unable to keep the good-hearted Scarlett from ruin, maybe I’m up to the task.