Page 55 of A Potion for Passion

Despite the heaviness of the skies, she refused to rush home. Her gaze darted everywhere in the hope of sighting him, but she saw no one of interest except Sally Matthews, who stared at her inimically, then turned her back.

Still jealous,Flora thought, not sure if she should preen or despair. She’d have to work really hard on Sally if the hat shop partnership was ever to go ahead. And Sally would need to get over her obsession with Lawrence. Damn that man, and damn her own wayward heart for jeopardizing her plans!

The pots in her basket clinked companionably as she reached the cottage and stepped in through the door, which Jenny held open for her. Willing herself not to look self-conscious, she headed straight for her room.

She knelt down to push the medicine pots under the bed and stared in dismay at the sheer number of remedies she’d accumulated. Most of them were cures for ailments from which she never suffered—she’d bought so many last year, purely as an excuse to visit their maker.

Ridiculous! How could she, a grown woman, have fallen under the spell of a man like Lawrence Campaign? She was no better than Sally, no better than any of the other female clients who she suspected welcomed his skill beneath the sheets as much as his nostrums.

Just because he’d given her a few weeks respite from her dreary existence didn’t mean he cared for her. Just because he’d kissed and fondled her and was aroused by her body didn’t mean she was any more special than his other conquests.

He was a rake, a charmer, a fly-by-night, and she might as well throw all the nostrums that were no good to her down the drain.

It was time for the foolishness to stop.

Biting her lip, she stared through the murky glass of her bedroom window and watched the purple clouds scudding up from the southwest. They were dark with a fresh squall of rain, and if Lawrence and Charley were out on the heath, they’d get soaked.

But why should she care?

She mustn’t care. She must stop caring. In a few days, man, animals, and wagon would move on, leaving her behind.

Just as Frank had left her behind, all those years ago. Left her nursing a pain and a fear she’d dared not share with anybody.

Confound it! She never wanted to go through that again.

Ever.

As soon as the servants were in bed, she’d pour out all the remedies, smash the bottles, and forget all about Lawrence.

She’d just started getting the bottles into order when there was a thunderous knocking on the front door. She was at the top of the stairs instantly, looking down at Jenny’s pale face.

“Shall I answer it, mistress?” the maid asked anxiously. “It’s not like decent folk to half pound a door down when they comes calling.”

What could be so urgent that required such a ruckus? Smoothing her cap over her hair, Flora said, “Find Adam and take him into the kitchen. Wait there with the door closed. I’ll call out if you’re needed.”

As soon as she opened the door, she was glad she’d made that decision.

Here, on her very threshold, was a bedraggled-looking Lawrence.

But he hadn’t come alone.