Page 34 of A Potion for Passion

“I’m Madame Julietta,” she said stiffly. “Dr. Campaign’s assistant.”

“Is he about?” asked Renfrew, removing his tinderbox from a pocket and striking a spark.

“He’s inside with a customer,” she answered shortly. Their constant prying was starting to annoy her.

“And what does this customer look like?” the corporal asked, his eyes hard with interest.

“I don’t know. He was all muffled up. Perhaps he has earache, or there’s something wrong with his mouth.”

Charley erupted into a series of snaps and growls. She swiftly removed her hand and stepped away.

The flap of the wagon opened, and Lawrence stuck his head out. “What’s up with Charley? Oh.”

He looked at Flora, then asked gruffly, “Are these men bothering you?”

“Not at all.” She gave him a stiff smile. “They’re being most helpful. They’ve just been helping me light a fresh fire as it’s so damp. They’ve been asking about your customer. Does he have the toothache? I speculated he might.”

“What? Oh, yes. Pretty bad. I’ll need your help, Julietta. I can’t get the damn fellow to keep still while I extract the thing.”

“We could hold him down for you,” suggested Private Renfrew, stepping forward.

A brief flash of alarm crossed Lawrence’s face but he said smoothly, “A kind offer, but I find they yell less if a woman holds them. Don’t want to seem unmanly in front of a pretty wench.”

Renfrew turned and ran his gaze over Flora in a way she didn’t much like. She looked down her nose at him.

“Well?” inquired Lawrence.

“Well what?” she asked.

“Are you coming? I’m at a delicate stage in the proceedings. It can’t wait until you’ve finished exchanging tittle-tattle with your military friends.”

It wasn’t like him to be so brusque with her and she sensed he needed her help.

“We’ll keep an eye on the fire for you, shall we?” said Triggs.

“Thank you, but there’s no need. We’ll both be back out in a shot,” Lawrence replied.

“I’ve never seen a tooth pulling before,” Renfrew said wistfully.

“You wouldn’t want to.” Lawrence helped Flora into the wagon. “I can’t say I enjoy it myself. Although plenty of other people seem to,” he added under his breath.

When she closed the flap behind her, the atmosphere of tension in the wagon was palpable. The weasel-faced man had an angry, hunted look, and he was breathing hard. Lawrence’s expression was grim.

“What do we do now?” asked the stranger anxiously. “I could make a run for it.”

“No.” Lawrence’s tone was implacable. “We must brazen this out. It’s your best chance. If you hare off now, they’ll know you’re fleeing from them. You need another reason to run.”

“What’s the matter?” Flora whispered. “Is it the soldiers?”

Lawrence indicated Weasel Face. “Our friend here is keen to avoid them. I don’t blame him. They’re all suspicious, interfering, half-witted worms who think themselves dragons.”

“But they do protect our country,” she replied, surprised at his vehemence.

Lawrence blinked, then said more gently, “Of course they do. Mostly. But how do we get my friend past them if they’re determined to make trouble?”

She peeped through the wagon flap. The two soldiers were crouched by the blaze they’d started, warming their hands. “They seem to have settled in.”

“Will they recognize you?” Lawrence asked their customer.