Page 98 of A Potion for Passion

Flora gasped in delight.

“It’s all too much. We really can’t accept—” Lawrence began, but the earl’s scowl froze him into silence.

“Don’t argue with Papa,” advised Tristan. “He’s a stubborn old mule.”

“Thank you, Tristan,” the old man said. “As I was trying to say, I want to give you a wedding trip. First-class passage, at a time of your choosing. Just name your destination, tell me how long you wish to stay, and I’ll arrange everything.”

Lawrence had gone very still. Flora squeezed his hand and voiced the thought he was reluctant to utter. “A brief sojourn in New York would not be unwelcome,” she said. “Lawrence has some inspiring ideas about the treatment of epidemic diseases he’d like to share with the Americans. But that might have to wait a year or two,” she added, looking down at the subtle bulge of her belly, hoping she wasn’t being indelicate in this all-male company.

Apparently not. As soon as her words struck home, everyone was on their feet, embracing and congratulating everyone else. More tears were shed, and finally, when they were all seated again, the earl took her hand and said, “If ever you, dear lady, or your child, be it Alexander or Alexandra, have need of me, don’t hesitate to ask. And with your permission, I want to make your children my heirs after Tristan, until such time as the reprobate is prepared to settle down on his own estate and start a family. Either way, they’ll receive Helmslow when they come of age, should you decide against taking it now, as well as an annuity from Oxenholme.”

Lawrence sucked in a breath to speak.

His father waved him to silence. “No, don’t raise any objections. Tristan and I have already worked it out with our lawyers. It’s as good as done. But I swear that no burden of title will be placed upon you without your agreement. Neither you nor your offspring will be forced to accept anything you don’t want. Unless, of course, you wish to change your mind. You’re both certainly more than capable of running a small estate like Helmslow.”

“With its absolutely enormous herb and flower gardens,” chimed in Tristan with a devilish grin.

Flora looked at Lawrence. This wild and wayward keeper of her heart might want very little for himself—he’d lived on air for much of his life—but she knew without even asking, he expected more for his children.

He stood, bowed to his father, and took her hand. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, sir, I think my wife and I need to debate this privately.”

The earl’s face brightened, and Tristan grinned again, saying, “You sound like a lord already, brother. Take all the time you need. There’s a fine rhododendron walk leading down to the lake, and the bluebells are out on the banks.”

Flora’s heart fluttered as Lawrence steered her toward the privacy of the glossy-leaved shrubs. They were about to make the most momentous decision of their lives, and she wasn’t sure she was ready.

“Well,” he said, turning to her, “my true family is far pleasanter than I expected.”

“And generous, too.”

He reached for a gaudy rhododendron flower and smoothed his fingers gently over its petals. “Should we accept?” he pondered. “I won’t have to sacrifice my dream, after all. We can go to America and stay as long as we like—there’s usually a steward or suchlike who can run an estate while one is away, I think. But what shall we do about the shop?”

“Your father has said he will buy it for us if we want it, and we can carry on as planned. Or you can accept the estate at Helmslow and turn the grounds into a physick garden. You’d still be able to write your medical treatise, and you can still send your nostrums to be sold in the shop. I’m sure we can find someone to manage and run it, as well.”

“And you’d still be able to design your bonnets, and lead the fashions,” he said, turning to her and brushing a soft kiss across her lips.

“If I become a great lady,” she said, taking both his hands, “Lucinda will have to behave herself, and I need have nothing more to do with the Daniells.”

“But you’ll be scrutinized by Society.”

“I don’t care about that. Besides, we’ll have no titles, so they’ll simply label us as eccentric and leave us alone. So long as we don’t do anything scandalous.”

Her husband shot her a heated look. “I’m imagining doing something scandalous right now. I wonder if anyone from the house can see us here?”

Pulling one hand away, she aimed a mock slap at him. “This is serious, Lawrence. We have to decide!”

“I love you, Flora, and your happiness is everything to me.” He pressed a hand protectively over her stomach, adding, “And I want the best for our children. If you think taking up the life of a gentleman is my best way forward, say it, and I’ll move heaven and earth to make that work for us.”

The tenderness in his eyes made her heart swell, and a tear of joy trickled down her cheek.

“I love you back,” she said, her voice breaking. “And I would still have married you, Lawrence Campaign, were you the very poorest man in England.”

He took her in his arms and kissed away the happy tear, then seized her hand.

“Very well, my love,” he said. “Shall we tell the rest of the family our good news? Of how you’ve tamed the wild and wicked dark-haired rover?”

She bit her lip and sent him an arch look. “I hope I haven’t tamed him completely,” she whispered. “I rather like the idea of a wild man in my bed at night, for all he plays the part of a gentleman during the day.”

He threw back his head and laughed, then took her face in his hands and said, “What you say reminds me of some myth or folktale I once heard.”

“Did it have a happy ending?” she asked.

“I don’t remember. But that’s not important, because we’re going to make our own fairytale, and it will definitely have a happy ending.”

“I hope we can,” she murmured, lost in his dark gaze.

“I assure you that we will,” he said softly.

She gazed enraptured at his handsome, earnest face.

And knew there was no better man on earth than the wayward rover who’d captured her heart.