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“Oh, yes! I’ve never experienced a scent quite like it before. It’s rose, obviously, with a hint of spice, and…is that honey, do you suppose?”

“I think so, yes, and perhaps a touch of plum.”

“Yes, just so! I can’t pinpoint the species of rose. It’s a deep, complex scent. I don’t believe I’ve ever smelled it before, but I imagine the rose it came from is very fine.”

“I thought I detected two distinct rose scents. Do you agree, Mr. Beale?”

“I do, yes. I’d guess the second rose is one of the damasks, but I couldn’t say which one.” Mr. Beale pressed the linen to his nose again and inhaled deeply “It’s a pity the scent is so faint. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much.” He shook his head.

“Oh, well, perhaps the roses are rare one, and difficult to find.” There was no mistaking the disappointment in Miss Templeton’s voice, but she offered Mr. Beale a polite smile. “You’re very good to try, Mr. Beale.”

“Of course, miss. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, now you ask, can you tell me anything about the distillation process? For example, I believe I read somewhere that roses must be harvested at precisely the right time, preferably at night when the fragrance is the strongest, and distilled twice?—”

Johnathan listened, fascinated as she went on for some minutes about different types of oils, fermentation, and the danger of bruising delicate rose petals.

Her voice was animated, her face alight with interest, all the natural reserve he’d observed in the drawing room this morning gone, and he realized with a start that this was a facet of the passion he’d experienced in the library last night.

Emmeline Templeton didn’t lack passion. Quite the contrary.

But she hid it, just as she did her hair under that absurd lace cap.

She and Mr. Beale went back and forth for some time, and it became clearer with every word from her lips that hers was no passing interest, nor was she a novice. The lady knew a great deal about flowers and scents, and about creating perfumes.

“Lord Melrose!” Mr. Beale had been so absorbed in the discussion he hadn’t noticed Johnathan, but Johnathan had unconsciously edged closer until he was standing right behind Emmeline Templeton, and now Mr. Beale caught sight of him over her shoulder.

“I beg your pardon, my lord, for keeping you waiting. How may I help?”

Emmeline Templeton whirled around, startled.

“Pardon me, madam. I didn’t intend to…” Johnathan blinked down at her, feigning surprise. “Oh, Miss Templeton, is that you?”

“Er, yes. Good afternoon, Lord Melrose. How do you do?”

“Good afternoon.” Johnathan made a show of glancing around the shop. “You’re not here alone, are you?”

“Oh, no, my lord. I, ah…well, my sister and Lady Fosberry were with me, but Lady Quigley appeared and took them off to the linen draper around the corner.”

“You mean to say I’ve missed Lady Quigley? What dreadful luck.”

He grinned down at her, and to his delight, a shy answering smile rose to her lips. “I’m afraid so. I was meant to wait in the carriage while they finished, but then I noticed Floris was right here, and I couldn’t resist a visit. They’ll be quite cross with me.”

“I beg your pardon, but I couldn’t help overhearing your lively discussion with Mr. Beale. You know a great deal about scent and perfumes, Miss Templeton.”

Her lips turned down, as if she didn’t quite like this observation. “Not at all, my lord. It’s merely a diversion?—”

“Oh, yes, the lady’s ability to distinguish scents is quite remarkable, my lord,” Mr. Beale interrupted eagerly, with an admiring look at Miss Templeton. “She’s got a perfumer’s innate understanding of scent.”

“Does she, indeed? How singular,” Johnathan murmured, his gaze resting on her face. A lady with such a…how had Mr. Beale put it?

An accomplished nose.

Accomplished enough that she could create her own scent?

It certainly sounded like it to him. How curious, that a lady with such a deep understanding of flowers and fragrances should have appeared in London at precisely the same time a mysterious lady with a unique and tantalizing scent had haunted Lady Fosberry’s library, there and then gone again like a wraith wrapped in lavender silk.

Johnathan’s heart quickened. There was nothing he wanted more than to find the lady who’d kissed him so sweetly, but what sort of conclusions could he reasonably draw from a fold of linen?

It could belong to anyone. Juliet Templeton, or another lady who’d attended last night’s ball. Even Lady Fosberry?—

Well, probably not Lady Fosberry, but how could he be certain of anything?

He hadn’t gotten even a glimpse of his lady’s face!

Hadn’t Miss Templeton said this morning she didn’t attend Lady Fosberry’s ball last night?

But that in itself was strange, given that the Templeton sisters were Lady Fosberry’s guests.

Why wouldn’t she attend her hostess’s ball?

Even if she hadn’t attended, she would certainly have been somewhere in the house.

But if she was the Lady in Lavender, why hadn’t she owned up to it this morning?

Or, if not her, then why not Lady Fosberry?

He’d made his intentions regarding the Lady in Lavender perfectly clear.

For all her kindness, Lady Fosberry was far too worldly to let an earl slip through her fingers, particularly an earl who’d compromised her young friend.

Compromised her, yet she’d sat there on Lady Fosberry’s settee, as cool as you please, and very likely lied right to his face. Or, if not outright lied, then certainly evaded, because he was sure she knew more than she was saying.

He should be furious, even insulted, but as he gazed down at her, he found himself inexplicably and utterly charmed. There was something about Emmeline Templeton that didn’t make sense, and he intended to find out what it was.

“Lord Melrose? Is there something I can fetch for you?”

Johnathan wrenched his attention away from her back to the shopkeeper. “No, thank you, Mr. Beale, but I’d be pleased to wait while you and Miss Templeton discuss distillation. Miss Templeton’s knowledge about perfumes is impressive, indeed.”

Emmeline Templeton’s lips pinched into a stubborn line. “You’re mistaken, Lord Melrose. I don’t know anything more about scent than any lady who’s fond of roses.”

Johnathan saw his chance, and seized it. “Lady Finchley’s roses are among the finest in England. I’m certain you must have visited her gardens since your arrival in London?”

“No, my lord. I’m not acquainted with Lady Finchley.”

“Then you must allow me to escort you through her rose garden tomorrow. The family isn’t in London for the season, but Lady Finchley is a distant cousin of mine. Her housekeeper will be pleased to allow us to visit the gardens.”

If Johnathan had been a vain man, he would have been mortally offended by the horrified look that passed over Miss Templeton’s face at his invitation. “That’s, ah…very generous of you, Lord Melrose, but I don’t think?—"

“Come, Miss Templeton. Perhaps we’ll find this elusive damask rose you seek for your sister’s perfume.”

Ah, now that got her attention. A look of such intense longing passed over her face Johnathan’s chest swelled with…well, something in response, and whatever it was, it wasn’t at all pleasant. It felt almost like?—

Jealousy . For God’s sake, he was jealous of a rose.

Still, she hesitated. “Lady Fosberry may not like it.”

“Let’s ask her, shall we?” Johnathan offered her his arm, nodding his thanks to Mr. Beale. “You must allow me to escort you back to your carriage in any case, Miss Templeton. I can’t permit you to wander about Jermyn Street alone.”

She stared at his proffered arm as if she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with it, and the awkward moment dragged on until at last her gloved fingers landed lightly on his sleeve.

As soon as they stepped out the door, they encountered Lady Fosberry and Juliet Templeton bustling down the sidewalk toward Floris. “Emmeline, thank goodness! My dear girl, where in the world did you scamper off to? You mustn’t…dear me, Lord Melrose! What did you come from?”

“Good afternoon, my lady. I’ve just been to Floris, where I found Miss Templeton conferring with the shopkeeper on distillation techniques.”

Lady Fosberry gave Emmeline a fond smile. “Yes, that sounds like her.”

“I happened to see her as I passed, and didn’t like her to remain unescorted.”

“Well, thank goodness someone found her!” Lady Fosberry turned a stern look on Miss Templeton. “My dear Emmeline, you can’t simply wander about wherever you like. Why, White’s is just around the corner, and no doubt stuffed to the brim with drunken rakes.”

Johnathan choked back a laugh. “She’s perfectly safe now, my lady.”

“Yes, well, you’re very good to return her to us, my lord. Come along then, Emmeline. We’ve taken up enough of his lordship’s time.”

“A moment, if you would, Lady Fosberry. I beg you’ll allow me and Lord Cross to escort all three of you ladies on a visit to Lady Finchley’s rose garden tomorrow. Miss Templeton has already consented.”

“Has she, indeed?” Juliet Templeton frowned as her gaze moved between Johnathan and her sister.

“She has. With your permission, of course, Lady Fosberry.”

“Why, yes, that sounds delightful.”

“Wonderful. Lord Cross and I will call for you all tomorrow afternoon, then.”

“Such a wonderful treat for Emmeline! She’s mad for roses, you know, and would otherwise not have a chance to see Lady Finchley’s, as I’m not acquainted with her ladyship.”

“It’s my pleasure, Lady Fosberry.” Johnathan bowed, then handed the ladies into the carriage. Once they were settled, the driver flicked the reins, and the carriage rolled down Jermyn Street and disappeared around the corner onto St. James’s Street.

Johnathan watched it go, a smile hovering on his lips.

Lady Fosberry was right about one thing.

This season was proving to be a great deal more interesting than he’d expected.