Page 80 of A Potion for Passion

“So, what’s to be done?”

She clearly wasn’t afraid. She was frowning as she tried to think up a solution for the mess he’d created. God. He loved her for it.

“Major Wilberforce needs to leave the area,” he replied. “He needs to drop his plan to track down the wreckers. Best leave that to the authorities or the militia.”

“It might be better if you went away for a while,” she suggested. “Lie low, until the wreckers are all caught. Or better still, pay a visit to your true family in Suffolk, where the wreckers can’t reach you.”

He wasn’t going to Suffolk. He had no desire to entangle anyone else in his too-complicated life. His idea was to head for London, to hide in the teeming metropolis. He had contacts among the upper classes. He’d still be able to sell his remedies and the fancy goods he’d acquired and continue to save for his passage to America.

If Flora hadn’t arrived when she did, distracting him, he’d already be miles away.

But now…

Now, everything was different. Could he bear to leave her behind?

“I wonder if you’d consider—” he began, but she interrupted.

“Major Wilberforce will be so grateful you swapped sides.”

He pulled away from her. “He doesn’t know I saved him at Oakwood Grange. I don’t think he heard me when I tried to explain. And then my companion knocked him out cold. To him, I’m just another wrecker. One who saved him in a moment of weakness and then regretted it.”

She shook her head. “He won’t think that, at all.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“Because you’re going to find him right now and tell him what you’ve just told me.”

He looked at her askance. “What? I can’t do that.”

She tipped her chin. “I think that’s the best solution. Maybe the only one. If you confess all, he can get a pardon for you.”

“If I confess all, the wreckers will have my guts for boot laces. I’ll do no such thing.”

“But you know who they are. You can help him round them up.”

“I may not think much of them, but I’ll be damned if I betray them. Many on the beach that night did not have murder in their hearts. Women, children, old folk, cripples, carrying away what they could in hopes of selling it and putting food on their tables for a week or two. Poor fishermen needing timber to mend their shacks, disabled veterans after rum to drown their memories and ease their pains. They are my kind, my people, Flora. We inhabit a harsh world you know nothing about, my sweet lady.”

She caught his hands and pressed them to her breast. “Oh, but you must talk to the major. Don’t you see? He’s the only one who can protect you. And he’s already in your debt for saving his life and helping deal with his leg wound.”

“I can’t do it,” he said, pulling his hands away. “It’s too risky, for too many reasons to count.”

“By God, you’re stubborn,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Why won’t you listen to me?”

He thumped his fist against the wagon bow, making everything rattle. “Damn it, Flora! You’re asking me to betray the very people who have helped me make a living. It won’t be just the perpetrators who are punished. Their families will suffer, too, with their menfolk gone. Who knows where it’ll end? I’ll have whole villages set against me.”

“A dishonest living,” she pointed out, from what he’d said.

Which infuriated him. “Can’t you just let it go?” he growled.

He hadn’t meant to sound angry and hated the way she recoiled from him. He was hurting her, but he was only telling the truth. Just as she’d wanted him to.

“So, you won’t listen to me,” she said in a flat voice.

“Don’t you understand why I can’t do as you want?”

“It is you who don’t understand, Lawrence Campaign,” she said so softly he could barely hear. He hated the way the light had gone from her eyes. Her cheek no longer held a blush, and her lips were very pale.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but when he reached for her, she stood up abruptly.

“The subject is closed,” she said, moving away from him. “Please take me home now. Where have you packed your mirror? I shall need to put up my hair.”

“I’ll do it,” he offered, but she slapped his outstretched hand away.

“Go and deal with the horses, Lawrence. Just do what you have to do, then take me home.”

“Won’t you sit up beside me?”

“Certainly not. I don’t want to be seen in your company. You can drop me off on the outskirts of Fortuneswell, so long as there’s nobody watching.”

He woodenly descended the steps. His heart felt dead within him as he gathered up Charley and Belle and tied them to the back of the vehicle, then harnessed up his two draft horses and removed the chocks from the wheels.

The journey back to Fortuneswell was the worst half hour of his entire life. The thrushes were indulging in a delightful sunset chorus, but his ears were deaf to them. The sun was descending in golden magnificence, but his eyes were blind. Charley yapped and barked cheerfully from behind the wagon, but it did nothing to lighten the lead weight which had taken the place of Lawrence’s heart.

A heart which he thought entirely dead…until he heard muffled sobs coming from inside the wagon. The intense pain caused by that brave, pitiful sound showed that his heart was not dead.

It was very much alive…and was being ripped apart.