Page 25 of A Potion for Passion

Chapter Thirteen

Flora was apprehensive as she passed the crowded taproom of the inn that evening. What if someone recognized her? The large fair attracted people from all over the county. She’d just have to brazen it out and continue the pretense that she was visiting the Mullens. What she’d say if anyone caught her meeting with a man, a relative stranger, in the dim snug of the King’s Arms, she had no idea.

Once settled down carefully out of view of the door, she put in an order for a shank of lamb, well done, with buttered worts and roast potatoes. It felt wicked, spending precious savings on a luxury like lamb, but tonight she felt driven to wickedness. She’d already broken so many rules of Polite Society, what mattered a few more? She hadn’t been on her own like this since before the Allstons moved in with her, and the taste of freedom was still sweet, and heady as strong wine.

The parlor door opened and Lawrence strode in, still dressed like a gentleman, bringing with him the scent of the exotic spices which pervaded his wagon.

She felt a little giddy when he seated himself opposite and ordered a jug of ale from the serving girl who’d followed him in.

“It’s thirsty work, performing a medicine show,” he told Flora with a wink, which made her even dizzier. “Will you have some ale? The local brews are excellent.”

“Why, yes, thank you.”

“Two cups, please,” he told the girl. “How are you, Miss Hartington?” he asked cheerfully. “Any news on the hat shop plan?”

Of course, there wasn’t. Thanks to him. But they could have that skirmish later.

“I’m surprised you remember,” she said drily.

He leaned forward and took her hand. She was too astonished by the sudden bolt of excitement that shot up her arm to pull away.

Snagging her gaze, he said, “I remember everything you say, Miss Hartington. I have the greatest respect for your words and opinions.”

“Not so much that you feel it acceptable to vanish without a word,” she said tartly.

“Unavoidable, I’m afraid. However, I hope to be able to make that up to you.”

“By dyeing my hair back?” she asked hopefully.

“I’ve told you, you should leave it as it is.”

“But you are still experimenting?” She hadn’t come all this way and risked her reputation for nothing.

Had she?

He smiled. “You can experiment yourself, if you like. I’ll give you access to all my herbs and simples. How long will you be in Dorchester?”

“Two or three weeks,” she said cautiously.

“Splendid.” He cocked his head to one side.

She gazed at him, trying to read the expression in his dark eyes. When he raised an eyebrow at her scrutiny, a rush of heat suffused her entire body, settling in parts she thought no longer had either use or feeling.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said.

She gulped. That did not sound very…respectable. She should get up and leave right this minute. So, why didn’t she?

The serving girl needed to come in with supper. Now. Before this conversation got out of hand and she broke every rule in the book.

“What kind of proposition?” she asked, her voice quivering from the audacity of the question. What had she become, to be able to ask such a scandalous thing? For, surely, she already knew what he had in mind.

“I want to employ you as my assistant.”

She froze in shocked silence. “Employ me?” she finally managed. She digested his words, trying to twist them into a logical meaning. “As your assistant? Seriously?” She wasn’t sure if she was massively relieved, or even more massively disappointed.

“Deadly serious.” He grinned at her. “I’ll pay you a share of the profits.”

Her mouth had dropped open, and at that she snapped it shut.