Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“She says fine. And it is a mystery for me to figure out when that is true.”
“I do not understand.”
“Ah, yes, you do not have sisters or a wife.” He seemed partly jealous. “Sometimes ‘fine’ means they are upset and wish you to keep probing until either you figure it out or they get annoyed with your incompetence and tell you. Then other times, they truly mean what they say. But rarely is there a clue as to which is which.”
I chuckled. “Is it not a fifty-fifty chance?”
“There comes the twist. Should you ask them if they are fine, thinking they are not, and they are actually fine, they will become annoyed at you and no longer be fine.”
“I see why your father’s hair is so white.”
“I fear I am not that far off.” He laughed, looking back to the man who, in return, waved us over. “I believe you’re being summoned.”
“How do you know it is I and not yourself?”
“He’d merely yell my name across the room,” he stated, and as if to prove his point, his father called.
“Damon!”
“Parents are rather predictable people. How much do you wish to bet he simply wants us to be spectators over their game?”
“I am not a betting man.”
“Stay here long enough, and you shall be,” he said, turning to walk to his father, and I followed behind.
I had heard much of Black’s Gentlemen’s Club and it was as everyone had described—a highly esteemed gathering of the most educated lords, surrounded by books, drinks, and cards. However, the openness with which they seemed to speak of one another’s own personal affairs one moment and philosophy the next had me taken aback. Within my first five minutes here, I heard at least three men speak of their mistresses in one corner of the room, while in the other were discussions of Aristotle’s six works on logic in The Organon.
“Have you lost our fortune, Father?” Damon asked as he stepped beside him.
“I would sooner lose your head.” The marquess laughed casually. “Welcome to Black’s, Dr. Darrington.”
“Thank you for the invitation, my lord,” I replied.
“Not at all. You are coming to the theater tonight, correct? There is plenty of space in our box,” he stated, examining his hand.
“And should you wish not to be run over by the company of women, you may join the rest of us in mine,” Lord Hardinge said and snickered.
“Quite the generous benefactors you have here, Dr. Darrington.” Lord Bolen shook his head. “It seems you all have thrown your lot in with him. Do you not think yourself disloyal to Sir Grisham, Benjamin?”
“What is loyalty to good health?” Lord Hardinge replied. “I feel as though I can finally breathe again, thanks to Dr. Darrington’s treatments. I prefer a doctor that cures my ailment, not adds new ones. That man damn near bled me to death. Unlike yourself, I have a young charge who still needs me.”
“You wound me.” Lord Bolen held his hand over his heart before laughing as he looked at Lord Monthermer. “And what is your excuse, Charles? I did not think you ill enough to judge who is the better of them.”
“It is a mere feeling…an instinct,” the marquess replied as he casually tossed one hundred pounds into the center of the table. His eyes shifted to me, and he gave a slight nod. I nodded in return, though I was not sure why. “And so far, it has been the advantageous choice, which is more than I can say about your decision to play this game.”
“Treacherous fiends,” Lord Bolen grumbled, folding his cards and waving over another drink before looking at me. “Forgive me, Dr. Darrington. It is nothing personal. I simply do not ascribe to the notion that the young should replace the old before their time. You have all but stolen the man’s patients. Is there no honor among doctors?”
“There is between good ones,” I replied, causing a chorus of chuckles and snickers. I really ought to put the drink down before I let myself say anything more.
“Is that so? And you believe yourself good?”
Fuck.
Inhaling, I turned around to, once more, find myself in front of Sir Grisham. He stood gripping his cane so tightly that the veins in his hands protruded from his skin. “Tell me, Dr. Darrington, what gives you your expertise at such a tender age?”
“I will not deny my youth or limited experience, sir, but I can assure you, both will change with time. That said, as I told you before, your methods and tonics do no one good.” I sought to sound resolute but not insulting.
“And you would know of bad tonics, since that is how your mother took her own life, correct?” he proclaimed loudly to all the room, and it was as if everything and everyone had gone silent.