Page 75 of A Sight to Behold
“What does that have to do with Pippa now?”
“I was afraid I hadn’t considered you and your perfect track record by being your hardest case. But I might be the most important case in your career.” Lance settled back into the chairand put his arms straight on either side of his body. “Let’s begin.”
“Wait, what do you mean by my most important case?”
“Nick, you compromised the daughter of a duke. Is she pregnant?” Lance looked at him with a piercing expression despite his pupils being grey and unfocused.
“I… I…ahem….”
“I understand. She might be, then?”
“It’s only been a day since.”
“You have to marry her. Yesterday.”
“I want to.”
“Except that you can’t without her father’s permission. I’m sure she knows that.”
“What if he won’t give his permission because I’m just a…”
“Then either you lose your practice, and she’s cut out and cast aside into the country as I have been, or I help you.”
“And how would you do that?”
“Leave it to me. Your task is to restore my vision. Your love and both of your futures might depend on it.”
Nick sat agog on the stool, and Lance lay still. Wendy, Felix, and Alfie came in to help prepare him and to assist during the surgery. As if in adéjà vuof a nightmare, Nick watched the routine preparation of a patient for a surgery he’d done over a thousand times. And yet, his hands felt heavy, his skin burned, and his chest was too tight to take a deep breath.
And when the time came for the first incision, he feared he’d cut far deeper into his own life than into Lance’s eye.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Meanwhile, Pippa andIsabel arrived at the seat of the Earl of Langley’s estate in Mayfair.
“It’s so nice of you to call on us,” Violet said as she descended the stairs and spotted Pippa in the hall. She brushed her hair out of her face, and Pippa suppressed a chuckle. She knew now what Violet was likely doing upstairs with her husband. It warmed Pippa’s heart because she was happy for Violet. She’d finally found someone who could distract her and help channel her energy.
But then Violet saw Isabel, and she froze.
Pippa looked at Violet and then at Isabel.Oh dear.Something was terribly amiss.
“Do you know one another?” Pippa asked, hoping that the mistake hadn’t been hers, bringing these two women together.
“Why did you bring me here? You said we’d pay the Countess of Langley a visit,” Isabel snarled.
Pippa’s heart skipped a beat as she observed the intense gaze shared between Violet and Isabel. The air in the room grew thick with a palpable tension, an invisible barrier of resentment and hostility separating the two women. Their eyes, locked onto each other as if in a deadly duel, their cold stares as sharp and cutting as daggers. For a moment, Pippa saw not two refined ladies before her but two cats, their lithe bodies taut with anticipation, poised and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.
A wave of regret washed over her, a bitter taste of guilt staining the edges of her conscience. It was clear now—a mistake had been made. This meeting, thisreunionapparently, orchestrated with such good intentions, had become a precarious dance of former enemies in an enclosed space. The realization hit Pippa like a violent gust of wind, knocking the breath out of her and setting her nerves on edge.
The butler withdrew, and three ladies were left in the great hall of the Earl of Langley’s elegant house. Pippa had forgotten how this was, for it had been so much easier to spend time with Nick, his sister Wendy, and the other doctors on Harley Street, where societal rules and etiquette didn’t play such a significant role.
This was different. She was a duke’s daughter, standing in the house of a countess, and she’d brought another duke’s daughter along.
“Why is she here?” Violet asked with such a calm tone that the touch of her voice sent a chill down Pippa’s spine. This was the Violet Pippa remembered. She thought the Earl of Langley had thawed her, but clearly, the old Violet hadn’t melted away completely.
“I’m here, I’m here,” came a man’s voice from the staircase.
Descending the grand staircase came the gallant earl, commanding the room’s attention like a beacon of power and authority. Impeccably dressed in another one of his finely tailored waistcoats, the earl’s slender fingers worked meticulously at the buttons, ensuring each was fastened precisely. His cravat, a neat arrangement of crisp white linen, was adjusted with a nonchalant tug as he aimed for perfection without seeming overly concerned about it.
