Page 32 of A Wager at Midnight (Betting Against the Duke #2)

Chapter 32

S CARLETT —H UMMING THE B LUES

I walk with the duke into the churchyard at St. Pancras Old Church. The sun is high above the cemetery. The renewed warmth in the damp air might be enough to burn away the early morning fog. The duke is quiet. He’s been that way since I told him that Lydia is his daughter.

“If you did not want me to come, I understand. A man needs privacy . . . ”

“To grieve? Scarlett, some things are beyond grief.”

He stops and opens his greatcoat, probably to release the steam of his anger. “You’re a faithful friend. I do not mean to raise my voice. Come.”

We start walking again. Clippings stick to my boots. Papa’s boots were meant to roam all over, why not a cemetery?

A tree waves from the corner of the property. It shades an edge of the old church. Hymns soak through the limestone walls. Sunday service is occurring. I wonder if the duke wants to go inside. What does a man pray for when everyone he has helped has lied?

He stops and takes a big whiff of the air. The smell of freshly trimmed heather is in the breeze. “I have given this situation almost three years of time. That could very well be a lifetime, my lifetime.”

“I told you because you deserve to know. I’ve betrayed my family and the man I love to tell the truth. How you handle things is a reflection on you. That’s your legacy.”

“What do you want? Allow the guilty to make amends? Do you suggest I sit around between pain medicines and listen to their worries? Am I unreasonable, knowing they’d let me die without the truth?”

My breath leaves me. I struggle like my chest has caved.

Katherine, Mama, and Stephen knew.

Georgie must know. She and Katherine are close.

I shove my hands into my sky-blue walking dress. “I was kept in the dark. I only remembered that my mother didn’t scream from the birthing pains that day. Only Katherine screamed. Patsy Wilcox was strong, but not that strong. Helping Mr. Carew deliver Mrs. Halland’s baby helped put all the pieces together.”

“Remind me to have Mr. Steele send her a present.”

“Your Grace, if you’d told me that you knew Katherine from before, I would’ve known that her son was your son right away. I just thought you wanted Katherine. She’s pretty. She annoys you like I annoy Carew. I didn’t know that there was more.”

“I loved Katherine more than life. I left her to fight for our future. I thought I could have everything, my father’s legacy which was owed to me, and love. By choosing to gain what’s lawfully mine, I lost her. I lost my son. I could die tomorrow, and Lydia would never have known her true father.”

He shivers, probably from the cool wet day and the regret and sense of unfairness surrounding us. But we’re in a cemetery. When has the grave played fair?

He holds his crystal cane in front of him. I’m sure he wants to appear emotionless, but I see tears. When Benny took me yesterday to Anya House, I went to the duke and told him immediately. Katherine and Lydia had already gone. They were meant to be there until tomorrow. My sister is getting out of her agreement. No wonder the duke is so discouraged.

He sent me away, upstairs to refresh myself, but that was to allow him to sob alone in his study.

When I wipe away my own tears, I notice the duke has moved to the plots where our loved ones are buried.

Boots shuffling through the cut grass, I catch up.

He points to four stones laid close together. The top two read— Patsy Wilcox, Cesar Wilcox —my beloved parents. Just below is Scotland’s stone, a brand-new slab of marble with fresh etching. It proudly bears his name. The marker next to it is also new. Gone is the marker that read Infant Wilcox . This one reads: Andrew Jahleelovich Charles, the Viscount Audben .

“Such a strong name and title. Katherine said you liked your father’s name.”

A bitter chuckle falls from his lips. “She’ll be angry I didn’t ask her permission to set a new gravestone. My son should have the honor he’s due.”

I put a hand to his arm. “I guess Lydia will start calling me Tantie Scarlett.”

“The world will change. I shall claim my daughter. No more lies.”

He kneels, groans and rubs his knee. Whispered words asking for forgiveness rise. More tears fall down his pale cheeks. Mine are tumbling out as fast.

The sun shifts overhead. The music, the beautiful pipe organ from the church, dies.

The duke is slow to stand. He’s in pain. He should be in Anya House being comforted. I put a palm to his brow. “You’re warm. You have a fever. This could have waited.”

“Scarlett, you’re the most like me. Do we truly understand what the word wait means? Does it ever apply to us?”

The man has a point.

Never ever will I tolerate injustice. “I can’t stand delays or being told ‘when you are older,’ or, ‘it’s just for men.’ I’m older, I’ve been a man, and still nothing makes sense.”

A worker in a dark cloak comes over. “Your Grace, good to see you. We’ve been doing the extra maintenance as you requested. Thank you very much for the grant. It’s deeply appreciated.”

“A bench, sir, would be a nice addition. Somewhere here.” The duke half turns, waves his hand and points a few feet away. “Right there. I think that would be lovely. Send the bill to Anya House when it’s complete.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The man bows and backs away.

“A grant for the cemetery? Then you’ve known for a long time.”

“About my son? Yes. Tavis, on his deathbed, told me of the stillborn. I wonder what the d’yavol would have done with knowledge of Lydia. Sold it to me? I would’ve paid for such information.”

“Please don’t destroy the Wilcoxes or Mr. Carew.” My plea is raw, but I’ll beg for them. As wrong as they are, they are my family and the fellow I love.

“I’d come to suspect about Lydia. My mother sent a portrait of my sister to dedicate Anya House. It’s the mirror image of my daughter.”

The breeze picks up. It scatters more bits of cut grass. Heather and clover scent the air. The duke’s shoulders hunch. He seems very tired. My fears for him, for his health, increase.

“A bench would be nice here,” he says. “I intend to come often and tell my son about life. Provide him the lessons a good father should offer. Tell him about his sister. No twin can be forgotten.”

I don’t know how to give back to him what we’ve stolen. Time can never be returned.

“Scarlett, you look fretful. Marry Carew if you want him spared. You and Lydia are blameless. Nothing bad will come to the innocent.”

“I’m fearful for the others. Please, Your Grace. Be magnanimous. You’ve made your detractors pay.”

“Oh. You know another member of the Court of Chancery has resigned. Seems Lord Lange likes Dover pills. He ended up in Bedlam for disorderly conduct. Reporters happened to be in the area when he was released. The details of his fall from grace will be in Monday’s paper.”

I wish harm to no one, but I didn’t like the scientist that much. “I know you are angry. Stephen Adam Carew keeps his patients’ secrets. He keeps yours.”

The duke shrugs.

“You’re angry at everyone, but my sister and my mother did the best they could to survive. You know how cruel scandal is.”

I appeal to his humanity. I know there’s some. There’s a great deal.

My eyes sting. I drop down and touch Scotland’s stone. “Everyone will be in pain. And I’ve done it. I betrayed everyone because you needed the truth.”

“Scarlett, you’re my friend. I love you like the sister I lost.” He puts his hand under my chin. “Rise, please.”

“Scotland’s stone is pretty. The pink and white marble, the deep etching. Thank you.”

The duke embraces me, and I him. “Like I said. Scarlett, you’re the most like me. You and I shall never forget those gone. Now, come. Let’s go back to Anya House and have some hot tea. There we can plot our revenge against the world over chess. It will be your first lesson.”

I laugh at the duke’s foolishness. I have no expectations that he’ll refrain from doing something. I will be protective of him, my Scotland. I will be his humanizing Anya. My hope is my betrayal of my family and Stephen, the ending of the lies, will someday be understood as the way to gain everlasting peace.

Nonetheless, when we enter his carriage, I make sure to mention the troubles of Eveline Gray and the baron who’s taken Chrysanthemum’s money away.

The duke takes to his bed as soon as we return. I’m not sure he’s going to be in crisis, but my stomach is tight. Worries start.

I leave the lovely library with a copy of Fuseli’s anatomy pictures in my arms. I’ll stay the night in my pretty room. Though I want to see Mr. Thom, I don’t wish to see Katherine or Georgie. How do I tell them I betrayed them? How will I comfort Lydia from the lies?

Once in my room, I see the spot where my sketches usually sit on my table. I forgot to get them back. Fleeing from the man you love makes one forgetful.

Sitting on my bed, curling into the pink bedsheets, I relax and then ready to remove my boots.

Plink. Plink.

A pebble hits my window.

Plink.

I rise and go to my bay window and draw the curtains wide. Looking out, I see—

“Scarlett!”

Stephen? Stephen is down there with Benny. They have a ladder.

It’s been a damp summer day, and he has no jacket. What’s he doing? Doesn’t matter. “Go away.”

Slam . The top rung of the oak contraption slaps against the edge of my window.

With Benny steadying the ladder, Stephen climbs. “Scarlett!” he yells. “What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Scarlett is the sun.”

“What are you doing, Stephen? It’s dusk. The sun is setting.”

Benny starts looking around like someone is coming. “Dis bad idea. Mr. Carew says he needs to give yuh a grand gesture to prove how much he cares.”

“Care? I care about all humans. Go home, sirs. Get some rest. This fever will pass.”

“No. No. Miss Wilcox.” Stephen rears back like he’s forgotten he’s dangling precariously on a ladder. “I more than care, Scarlett. I love you.”

“You are desperate and delusional. You need sleep and a meal.”

“If I need sleep, it shall be in your arms. Your body needs to be tucked close to mine. We need to share warmth and breath. My heart needs to beat with your pulse.”

My mouth goes dry then slack. What do you say when the man you love tells you he wants you? He must not know I betrayed him. “I need you to wise up. Stephen, we were a season. The moment for us has passed.”

“Scarlett, you’re smarter and braver than everyone. If I were half as brave, I would’ve told you how I felt long ago.” His voice is closer. “I didn’t want to jinx you loving me.” He’s halfway up. “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she.”

“You are insane, and not listening, Stephen. And you could fall and hurt yourself.”

“Dats what I told him, Miss Wilcox.” Benny is straining to hold the shaking ladder. “Yuh got him touched in the head.”

“Bullocks to both of you. Good night.” I start to close the window.

“Wait.” Stephen climbs faster. “With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt; Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.”

I duck my head against my palm. “My kinsmen are not here. They’re across the Thames, hiding from the aunties. But there’s the Duke of Torrance and he’s mad. Big mad about all the lies.”

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!”

“Stephen, goodbye. Take him home, Benny. Make sure he sleeps. I’m closing the window now.”

Having reached the glass, Stephen knocks. “Scarlett. I do love nothing in the world so well as you.”

“That’s strange.”

“That’s not quite the response line from Much Ado About Nothing .”

I open the window. “I’m not the one climbing up a wall going on about love that you refuse to admit until I leave. Can’t you see I don’t want to fight to be loved? I’m the third of three. Count them . . . three sisters, not four. I know the truth. Truth has set you free. Go home.”

“Scarlett, I can’t betray my patients’ trust.”

He’s eye level. Stephen has climbed all the way with a white billowing shirt that’s open and showing a touch of smooth chest and little dark curls. The indigo-blue waistcoat dangles. Dang his eyes shine.

“I’m an idiot, Scarlet but I see you. I know you are a warrior for truth. I love that about you.”

“Why? I’m a misfit who likes research and books and my papa’s boots. You shouldn’t love me. I can’t be trusted.” I’m heaving, breathless. “Go home. Or go to the aunties. Tell them they were right. Deh find yuh a nice girl in your community.”

“I don’t want a nice girl, Scarlett. I want you.”

Hissing, I try to close the window on him, but the frame gets caught on the thick tube of his La?nnec stethoscope. “You dunderhead. You could break that.”

He knocks the window open. As I scramble to get the expensive scope, Stephen pulls himself inside. “Ready to talk?”

“This is improper. You shouldn’t be here.” I hand him his tool, point to the window. “Go, now.”

Stephen puts the stethoscope to my chest. “I hear a heart beating. I want it to beat for me.”

His actions are quick. The scope goes onto my table, and I am in his arms. Our buttons, the brass buttons of his waistcoat plink against the silver ones of my carriage dress as he kisses me. He tastes of peppermint and sweet pone. Then his lips trail my cheek, the curve of my neck.

Stephen puts my hand to his chest. “Touch me. I’m here. You can’t make me leave, not without knowing my love.”

“I know you do. Now go.”

“You know I love you, but you want me to go? Scarlett, please.”

“I be-tra-yed you. Stephen, I learned the truth. I didn’t consult you. I went to make things right. So, go. I can’t obligate you.”

“But you love me?”

My lips tremble but stay shut. I’m breathing hard to keep my tears at bay. “Go.”

He nods, backs to the window and pushes the ladder away. “No, girly. I can’t go. I need my woman.”

A crash sounds as the ladder falls away. Benny makes a small scream. Stephen looks down. “He’s alright.” He motions for Benny to get up.

I look to the window and his man is up dragging the ladder away.

“Scarlett,” Stephen says, “I won our bet. I’m not leaving, not without you.”

My Romeo sits on the bay window’s pink cushion. “And I have half a pan of cassava pone in my carriage. You never leave the aunties’ party without taking a snack, Scarlett. That’s rude.”

“I had no pockets in my gown. I needed to leave quickly. When you decide to destroy the man you love, you have to be quick about escaping.”

“I’m destroyed without you.” He curls his fingers. “Come to me, Scarlett. Please, be mine.”

“Didn’t you hear me. I told the duke. I remembered the night Lydia was born. Only Katherine had birth pains. She screamed like Maryanne. Only Katherine was pregnant. Lydia was a twin. Everyone has lied to her.”

Stephen stands and walks to me. “Yes. And everyone is wrong. When I figured out that the father of the stillborn was the duke, not a random fling or worse, I didn’t know what to do. The stillborn was a twin. Jahleel Charles has to be Lydia’s father, too. I looked at Lady Hampton and hoped she’s doing the right thing. I make no excuse, other than that a patient’s privacy is something a physician lives by. You’ll have to learn that if you wish to be a physician working at my hospital.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “Fine, our hospital.”

“Don’t taunt me, Stephen. Women can’t—”

“A woman can do what her husband allows. Why would I stop someone as gifted as you from healing people? And with the initial S as in S. Carew, I don’t think anyone will notice which brilliant Carew is the author to your future research papers.”

I glance up into his eyes. Handsome, with his brown eyes slightly black, slightly red beaming at me. “You don’t care that I broke your trust. That I have not been proper?”

“I’m in your bedchamber, Scarlett. We’ve compromised each other too many times to count. Heaven help us, we been to a brothel together.”

“Yes. We did share a prostitute. Couples bonding?”

“Scarlett, if I had far less scruples, I’d have been in your breeches. What is proper about us? Not a t’ing.”

His smooth lips are close. Can I trust them? I run my thumb along the bottom.

He makes a sharp intake. “Do I have cassava pone on me?”

“No. Well, not anymore.”

“Kiss me and make sure.”

I do, because I love him. With his arms surrounding me, I’m swept away. Our lips collide like shooting stars. I love him, with every breath, every taste.

“I love you, Scarlett. I’ve been afraid to say it. Every time I have, I lose. I never want to lose you.”

“I’m here, unless I vanish while you’re unconscious because I need to do something.”

“My work is tiring. Loving you is tiring. But it’s a good tired.”

In his arms, we dance to some song of praise that we whirled to on his tantie’s patio. Our button music clinks again. “We sort of make music together.”

His hand cups my chin. “O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!”

He dips close and kisses my nose. He whispers, “I love you,” and puts his mouth upon each eye. His breath is yummy.

“Have you been eating my dessert?”

“Needed to keep up my strength until I found you.” Stephen scoops me up into his arms and kisses me.

It’s magical . . . for three seconds, before a crystal cane shatters on Stephen’s head.

My love falls to the floor. I flop on top of him in a heap.

On the thick rya on the floor of my bedchamber at Anya House, I roll to Stephen’s side and finger his scalp for a cut or a lump.

The duke smirks. “You hurt there, Scarlett? Didn’t mean for you to fall. I’m liberal, but we must talk about having men in your room. Which is to say, no men in your room.”

I rub Stephen’s cheeks to rouse him. “He’s unconscious. Was that necessary?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.” The duke shakes his head. He leans over to try to help Stephen up and almost loses his balance. “The cane is crooked,” he says. “I’ll need to get it fixed.”

The duke takes his time walking to the door. “Have your gentleman caller go to another room. A special license will be here in the morning. When Romeo awakens, take him to the maze. Both of you can shout your love, your intentions to be man and wife. Then you are wed the Cossack way. That will clean up this final compromise.”

I’m shaking Stephen. He’s not budging to agree or complain. “Your Grace, I thought you have to do that in front of a crowd.”

“There’s no size requirement for the audience. Mr. Steele is back. Princess Elizaveta is here, and I’m sure Mr. Carew’s man-of-all-work is out there, too. Talkative little fellow. We will be witnesses. Get it done. Steele will have a proper license in the morn. I need . . . need to go rest.”

The duke stops at the door. “Tell your husband that all debts between us are paid. I harbor no ill will. What he did or participated in was to protect his patients. I understand. Now, I must protect my family.”

The duke stumbles a little but leaves and closes the door.

“Did you get that, Stephen? You can stop feigning sleep. He’s told us what we need to do. Congratulations. We must wed.”

Stephen sits up. “Yes, my sweet.” He bits his bottom lip. “And I’m sure you won’t mind postponing our wedding trip. Torrance is struggling. I think the sickness is rearing. We need to stay and be of service.”

I drag this man of mine to his feet. “That’s the life of physicians.”

“Physician plus one. You’re a physician’s assistant. You need plenty of training, my dear. The Stephen Carew school is now open.”

“And what must I do for admission, sir?”

He takes me in his arms, smiling the way he does, and whispers, “Love me, love me forever.”

“That’s something I can do.” Seems I have. Now he loves me, too. I grab his arm and drag him to the door. “Let’s go be Cossacks, get the cassava pone from the carriage, then you can feed me in the marital bed.”

“That’s all you want?” He kisses me and makes me breathless. “Definitely have to put you through an intense physical program, madame.”

“Well, my future husband, present-day physician, is smart enough to prescribe the right type of medicine for a lifetime of love.”

“Scarlett, that I do.”

“I do, too.”