CHAPTER TWO
SCARLETT WILCOX—MEN ARE STUPID
When a person, no matter how brilliant or handsome, called you out of your rightful name to be Lucifer, the fallen angel, the fool deserved hell. And with my boots, I'd gladly kick Carew into the flames.
I couldn't believe he said that after I tried to defend him.
Sighing and hissing like a steam kettle, I walked away from the dining room. My boots echoed in the grand hall of Anya House. Stephen Adam Carew probably knew I was listening, probably said it on purpose. Probably thought I'd do something undignified when I heard his retort.
Halfway down the hall, I still fumed.
Devil? Mr. Carew was the d'yavol, as the duke would say.
Fury roiling inside, I trudged forward and stopped at a gilded framed mirror. Did I look like a devil?
I wore one of my old shapeless gray gowns, something Katherine bought me when we mourned old Tavis, her late husband. It was one of the few dresses that fit without showing off my hips.
This was nothing like the ballgown of aurora red satin that I wore to the duke's ball a month ago. That dress fitted to my waist and captured the curve of my bosom for all to see. The men at the duke's ball, including that obnoxious physician, did not look at me as a child. I pushed at my cheeks. They were lean. No baby fat at all. They'd never mistake me for Lydia.
What had changed? Was I always to wear such extravagant things to keep a man's attention? Well, then it wasn't worth it. I didn't sing. I didn't exhibit. I'd burn a kitchen down before I baked anything. And never would I ever dress provocatively to gain any man.
If I returned to the dining room, I'd catch the smug physician either being waylaid by the Earl of Livingston or engaged with the duke about nonsense that did nothing to push the hospital campaign forward.
Ten years was the difference between me and the physician, but I'd never wait for calling. Would reaching his age make me timid? How terrible.
I pitied him. I hated Stephen Adam Carew. I hated his charismatic smile, the way he bit down on his lip when he was in thought. I hated when those lips were dry because he forgot to take care of himself. I even hated when he caught me being less mature.
And above all, I hated that he hesitated before acting. His current delay would cause the physician to lose funding for a new hospital. This dream of Carew's was old. It was one of the litanies of things he and my father discussed whenever he visited our house on the other side of the Thames. Then Papa made him promise to be a protector and mentor for my curious mind.
I guess that meant Mr. Carew was to be a brother...not a lover or anything else. I hate myself for wanting more.
Shaking my head, I trudged up the carpeted stairs and went into the crisp whitewashed library. This room, lined with ivory bookshelves, was the happiest place in Anya House.
Lydia had her head down, drawing what looked to be a map, while the gray-haired matron napped in the corner. Mrs. Cantor was a nice woman, typically very attentive, but my little sister had a lot of zeal.
When I got to the table, I bent and kissed her brow. It was good to see her happy, fever and pain free. Lydia was so much healthier since the Duke of Torrance came into our lives. My sister Katherine, who acted at times like Lydia's mother, had to start seeing him as a benefit.
To find a cure to keep Lydia illness free was my life's goal. I'd do anything to learn about the sciences which govern the body. I'd be the best physician the world had ever seen, if given the chance.
"You look mad, Scarlett." Lydia kept drawing. She didn't look at me.
"I'm not, not anymore. The men are meeting in the dining room."
She giggled. "You wanna be there. Don't you?"
I moved to a bookshelf and fingered the leather spines. The duke surely possessed a fourth...no, a third of all the books in the world. "Well, if I'm there, I can't be up here with you."
The little girl shook her head. "Scarlett, I know you are mad. Mr. Carew probably teased you, sort of the way the duke teases Katherine."
"You mean how they both tease each other?"
She tilted her face toward me. Freckles on her nose. Big eyes with flecks of gold. "Katherine's not kidding. She don't like our duke."
The little face looked so sad, I kissed her brow again. "They'll make nice because of you, dear heart. You have the great power of bringing everyone together."
She held my arm and leaned her soft cheek against me. "But I know Mr. Carew is teasing you. Just tell him you love him. I told the duke I loved him, and he gave me a pony."
