Page 32 of A Potion for Passion

Lawrence scowled at the peddler. That was ancient history. He’d only done it because it made him feel better, as if he’d been the one to take advantage of Daisy, and not the other way around.

His spine tingled under the inimical stares of both Daisy and Flora.

“Notches?” asked Daisy darkly.

“Notches,” confirmed Barnabas. “He’s put all his conquests there, and I put mine on the left side of my peddler’s tray. Me and Lawrence, we have a friendly competition going, don’t we? How many tallies do you have now, friend? For this year, I mean?”

Lawrence felt his fury rise. “Barnabas Todd, you’re a lying oaf,” he growled. “And if you don’t stop ogling my assistant like that, I’ll flay you alive with my horsewhip.

“Well!” Daisy muttered.

Taking Flora’s arm, he said, “We’ll leave you now, to enjoy your…coffee. Good morning.”

Without a backward glance, he whisked her out of the tent and back into the damp grayness of the day. As she hurried along trying to keep pace with him, she said, “That really wasn’t necessary. I don’t expect you to threaten anyone to protect my reputation. And if you once had an affair with Daisy, I understand why she reacted as she did. Though it was hugely hypocritical, considering she had a lover just the other side of the curtain.”

He stopped and turned her toward him. “Madame Julietta,” he said sincerely, “you are too generous and too honest. But these people are not like you. They don’t care about fairness or good manners.”

“Surely, you exaggerate,” Flora said.

If anything, the opposite. Barnabas and Daisy were bad enough, but Lawrence was also the fence for a ring of wreckers. Those men were dangerous and ruthless and would do anything to protect their profits.

“You can’t trust anyone in this shadow world,” he warned Flora. “Especially when it comes to matters of money or the pleasures of the flesh. If you saw a dropped coin purse, you’d try to return it to its owner. We travelers would just thank whichever netherworld god we favor and pocket the thing. While you’re with me, please accept that I know best how to deal with my kind.”

Her shoulders stiffened beneath his hands. He tried to turn her back toward the wagon, but she stood her ground, ignoring the rain, glaring at him.

Her blue eyes were dark with anger as she said, “I haven’t risked my good name to be dominated by you. I’ve hazarded it on a week or two of freedom. I can make up my own mind about people, Lawrence. I’m not stupid. Now, show me these marks Barnabas was talking about, so I know what kind of man I’ve agreed to assist.”

Groaning inwardly, he took her arm and angled them back toward their pitch. “The marks are not conquests, believe me. I may be of low birth, but I’m not shallow, nor so callous. They are just scratches on one of the wheels where Charley exercises his teeth and claws. You can see for yourself they’re not tallies. Don’t listen to Barnabas, and I want you to keep away from him.”

“Is that an order?” she asked with an edge of irritation.

“Yes. He’s not a man you should associate with. If you want to play in my world, Flora, you’ll need to play by my rules.” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He couldn’t afford to dispute with her. Soon the fairgoers would be milling about, and he needed to be ready to entertain them and convince them to part with their money. His mind was already on which bottles to push today. On such a murky morning, warming remedies would sell well, as would tonics and boosters of mood, electuaries for coughs and sore throats, and poultices for aching joints.

Flora walked beside him in simmering silence. Sorry, but she’d needed to be told. What was a mere game to her was his whole world. He couldn’t afford his livelihood becoming the plaything of a gentlewoman, however sweet and delectable.

As they approached the wagon, he saw a customer was already waiting. They’d returned just in time. But as the man turned to greet them, Lawrence’s flesh went cold.

Speak of the devil…

This was the last person he wanted to see, especially when he was in Flora’s company.

Nathaniel Pryce, go-between for the wreckers.