“Hardly,” he waved away. “I trust that I may send it to you, and it will be paid. No, I wished to discuss Lady Harriet and her brother. Shall we?”
He led the way along the passage to a small sitting room, inviting Jeremy to take a chair before crossing to the sideboard for a decanter and glasses.
“Brandy?”
Jeremy nodded, accepting the offered glass.
“I have only lately made Lord Oaksgrove’s acquaintance, when he became my patient. I cannot claim to know him well, but I do know certain things. For instance, he would be most interested to hear of his sister’s recent malady.”
Jeremy arched a curious brow. “But such information is private, is it not? You cannot disclose to him what treatment another patient has received.”
The outline of a trap grew plain. The hint of blackmail hung in the air. The question was—what price did the man have in mind?
I thought it lucky that the first door I tried was a man with expertise in the condition that was plaguing Harriet. But that he also knows Ralph is ill-fortune indeed.
“You are correct, of course. In this particular case, however, I do not think Lord Oaksgrove will object, and if his sister does, I'm sure he will keep it out of the public eye.”
“But, I will not. I will take it to the courts,” Jeremy declared, leaning forward in his chair and slamming his glass down so that the dark liquid within slopped over the sides.
Doctor March looked at him silently for a long moment, sipping his own drink. Jeremy felt his anger rising. This man was toying with him, testing his patience. He felt an urge to get up and grab him by his lapels and shake him.
“I'm sure you would. And I do not wish to go down that road. I will keep silent even though Lady Harriet is not your betrothed.”
“And what makes you say that?” Jeremy asked.
“Because her brother has told me of the man he intends his sister to marry. A most advantageous match. He is not you.”
Jeremy sat back, eyes narrowing. This was a… curious revelation. Ralph matchmaking for his sister could disrupt Jeremy's plans. If word got back to the Winchesters, it would ruin everything.
I must hope that Ralph is being as close-mouthed as usual when it comes to his family. Apart from this fellow, whom he probably assumes is as safe as confessing to a priest.
“She is my betrothed, regardless of what Ralph has planned,” Jeremy said flatly.
March smiled. “As you say. It is not for me to gainsay that. But it would put the cat among the pigeons if Lord Oaksgrove were to find out about his sister's betrothal…?”
“It would. What is your point?”
March tossed back the drink. As he replaced the glass, Jeremy noticed a tremor in the other man's hand. There was a faint glimmer of sweat on his upper lip, which he dabbed at with a handkerchief.
“My point is, that I will keep your secret in exchange for your help in a project of my own. I wish to build a hospital in the East End of this city, Whitechapel. The poorest and most wretched streets in England. The people there are dying of preventable diseases and injuries that should be healed but are not because they cannot afford the services of a physician,” March began with fervor.
“Doctors are never poor. Pay for it yourself,” Jeremy snapped.
“It is beyond my means. And I can find no one willing to donate money to a hospital that will treat people for free.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Jeremy muttered. “…So, you wish me to give you the money to build your little hospital. And in return, you will keep my secret, mine and Lady Harriet's?”
“I will take it to my grave,” March said earnestly, putting a hand to his heart.
Jeremy pondered this new ultimatum. “The trouble is, Doctor, my funds are tied up in a property purchase. I have very little liquid assets to give to you.”
That was the truth. Jeremy doubted there was enough cash available to move, at least not enough to pay for the operations of an entire hospital.
March's face hardened.
“You are a Duke. You are the owner of much land. I refuse to believe you are a pauper. I will give you some time to free up the funds, but I will not accept that you do not have them. A week. After that, I will be forced to speak to Lord Oaksgrove about what I have seen.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
