Page 97 of A Potion for Passion

There was more laughter but this time it was tinged with sorrow. The earl bowed again to Flora. “Would you like to see the portrait of the late countess?”

“Very much,” she answered.

The painting hung at the top of the stairs. She gaped at the beauty and character of the woman the artist had captured in the portrait. Lawrence’s Spanish mother was dark, elegant, mysterious, and exotic. Flora couldn’t imagine any man being able to resist such allure.

She shot a sideways glance at the earl. He must have been impressively handsome in his day, too, if his sons were anything to go by. From his expression as he looked at the portrait, he’d been very much in love with his wife. How terrible it must have been for this devoted couple to lose one of their twin boys!

Lawrence’s hand found hers as they gazed up at the painting. At length, he said, “I think I remember her, too.” Then he said hotly, “I’m tempted to hunt down that dreadful pair of villains who brought me up, and hand them over to the authorities for child stealing.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Flora replied. “Although, had you not led an itinerant life, and spent so much time in the countryside, you would not have learned so much about natural remedies.”

Another awkward silence fell. She and Lawrence shared a look. Point taken.

“We want you to know,” he said, addressing the Vereys, “that I intend to make no claim on you. I’m very happy with my apothecary shop, which I run hand in hand with Flora’s millinery establishment.”

The earl cleared his throat. “Let’s go down and have some refreshment while we talk,” he suggested. “Pardon my frankness, but it’s not every day one meets a long-lost son, and I could use a stiff drink.”

As they returned to the drawing room, Flora wondered what it was the earl wasn’t telling them. She’d expected some reticence, yes, but there seemed to be no lack of affection here, nothing disingenuous about their welcome. So, what was the problem?

The day was warm, so they decided to take their refreshment out on the terrace, whence they could gaze across the elegantly tamed countryside around Oxenholme Park. As Flora sipped her glass of chilled lemonade, she allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, what it might be like to be mistress of such a house and so vast an expanse of garden. This was larger even than Lord Beckport’s estate in Dorset.

She concluded it would be terrifying.

Lawrence was more relaxed now he was outside with a drink in his hand, the light breeze wafting his unruly hair against his bronzed cheek. How odd it was to see him in a shirt done up to the throat, his look completed by the cravat she’d insisted he wear despite his numerous muttered threats. He could easily look the part of a viscount—if he wanted to. But they both knew he didn’t want to and were hoping the Verey family had no expectations in that direction.

The earl said, “Arthur, my boy—or Lawrence, should I say—I regret I can’t offer you a title, as that honor goes to Tristan. Had you been born first—but that’s of no matter. There is, of course, the Helmslow estate. Tristan can manage well enough without it. We’d already agreed to give it to you, should your claim turn out to be genuine.”

Lawrence held up a hand. “Say no more, sir. I make no claim. Tristan is your heir, not I. He’s been brought up as your successor. I would have far too much to learn. Also, I’ve done things of which I’m not particularly proud, and have no wish to cast a cloud over the Verey family.”

“But you must allow me to do something,” the earl said with a frown.

“Indeed, my brother, you must,” broke in Tristan. “I hate to think I’ve had all the luxury and privilege, and you’ve had none.”

“Nay,” said Lawrence, waving a hand dismissively. “My wife and I have discussed this at great length.” He gave Flora a smile that warmed her to the core. “We’d be honored if we could name our first child after you, Father. Alexander, is it not? And wondered if we might ask you to be patrons of our shop. We took over the premises in East Town when the former tenant had an unfortunate run-in with the authorities. She went to prison and didn’t pay her landlord for months. He didn’t like the place standing empty, so we got it at a peppercorn rent.”

“Consider it done,” said Lawrence’s father, still frowning. “I shall certainly visit this intriguing establishment, to make sure the goods are up to quality. But are you certain you wish to reject our offer of Helmslow? You ought at least to see the place.”

Lawrence glanced at Flora, but she kept her expression neutral. This was his family. She wanted the ultimate decision to be his, too.

Tristan beckoned the footman over to refill Lawrence’s wine glass. Pressing his fingers together, the viscount said, “Helmslow has an enormous herb garden. And the kitchen garden is very well stocked, and there’s an orangery for the more exotic plants. Oh yes, and a flower garden, too.”

Flora couldn’t help but smile as the determined look on Lawrence’s face wavered. Inside, she felt herself sorely tempted by that wonderful description, as well.

“An herb garden?” he queried. “What kind of herbs?”

“Oh,” said Tristan, twirling the wine around in his glass. “Medicinal plants, culinary plants, dye plants. The garden is walled in red brick and has been in existence since the days of Good Queen Bess.” He caught Flora’s eye and added, “I understand many of the flowers grown there can be dried. As decoration for hats.”

“Indeed,” said the earl, looking at his eldest son. “Tristan has a friend in Town who runs a high-class milliners. She’s always interested in new ideas for bonnets.”

Flora didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. These aristocrats had certainly done their research on Lawrence and herself and had designed the perfect ambush. The earl must dearly want his son back. And just like Lawrence, he wasn’t prepared to give up without a fight, albeit a subtle and very attractive one.

She looked at her husband, who was gazing intently at his father. Was he considering the offer? If he accepted, what would happen to the business they’d worked so hard to build?

“Anyway,” said the earl, “whatever you decide about that, I’d still like to bestow a belated wedding gift on your beautiful wife. Two, in fact.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” said Flora, flushing furiously. “Really, it’s not.”

“No, I insist,” he said, patting her hand. “You’re both family now. I will buy the shop in your names. It’s the least I can do. Put your rent money to better use. As for my other gift… Well, where would you like to take your bride trip? Anywhere in the world.”