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The woman pressed her hands together. “It will start the process, my lady. But in order to work, I must know more about the man himself. The inner man.”

“And how am I to find that out?”

The woman smiled. “I have a list of questions. Get him to answer them and I can remake the formula to better suit you both.”

Kynthea sighed, now understanding the trick. “And she will have to pay you each time, yes? For every formulation of the potion.” A pretty way to make money from rich, gullible girls.

“No, no,” Zoe said. “It makes sense. Love is something between two people. It cannot just happen instantly from two random people. It has to grow. So the potion must be specific to each person. But I thought I’d need a lock of his hair or something.”

How could a girl know the facts and yet still not see how ridiculous this whole thing was?

Madame Ilie brightened. “Do you have a lock of his hair?”

“Not yet. But I could get it.”

“No, you cannot,” Kynthea cried. “Imagine cutting a Duke’s hair!”

“That would be difficult, indeed,” Madame Ilie said before Zoe could respond. “Besides, it is better to get the answers to my questions. Every answer will make the potion more effective.”

Zoe nodded. “Very well. Give me the list and the potion—”

“For two shillings, my lady. It must be paid in advance.”

Kynthea gasped. Two shillings was an extraordinary amount for something that was probably nothing more than rose water and a few herbs. Zoe, on the other hand, didn’t even blink.

“Very well. But I shall expect it to work. There must be at least the beginning of interest from him or I shall know this is all a sham.”

“There will be a reaction, my lady. I swear it.”

How could there not be one, when rose water was splashed on the man’s face?

But Kynthea held her tongue. Zoe was determined.

Meanwhile, Madame Ilie curtseyed and opened the door to a back room.

There was a slender girl grinding up something with mortar and pestle.

She looked up, her face as young as Zoe’s, but the strain of hard work clearly showed in her clenched jaw and hardened muscles.

“The basic love potion for Lady Zoe,” said Madame Ilie.

The girl nodded and immediately set aside her work, presumably to gather the potion. Meanwhile, Madame Ilie turned to the old woman who still stood without moving in the narrow beam of sunlight.

No question was asked. Not a word spoken. But the older woman’s veil shifted and a single gloved finger gestured vaguely in Kynthea’s direction. Or perhaps the woman merely had a cramp in her hand. It was hard to tell. Nevertheless, Madame Ilie turned to Kynthea.

“And what of you, miss? Do you have needs or pains?”

A great many of both. But she sincerely doubted that anything from here could help her.

“We need a salve for the countess’s hands,” she said.

“Her joints bother her constantly.” That was the supposed reason they’d come here.

“And something for Annette’s monthly pains.

” Annette was Zoe’s maid and suffered terribly during her courses.

“We have medicines for that,” Madame Ilie said.

“Yes, yes,” said Zoe, her impatience showing. “But what about you, Kynthea? Don’t you want a love potion, too? You’ll be attending many of the parties with me this season. Wouldn’t it be splendid if you found love as well?”

“Splendid” was something dreamed up by girls. “What use have I for love?” she said. With her luck, she’d become enamored of someone as impoverished as she. The two of them would marry then end up pining after one another while being tossed into debtor’s prison.

“So practical,” Zoe scoffed. “Money, then. A charm to attract lots of money. I’ll pay for it.”

Money was spent no matter how careful one was. What she needed was income—a regular, steady source of money. “Health,” she said firmly.

“But you’re completely healthy.”

“If I stay that way, then I can continue to help your parents long after you have married the duke.” Then she’d survive as their poor relation until they died and (with luck) would receive an amount in their will.

They were her last hope after illness took her parents.

Sometimes she wished she’d died with them, but then she’d miss the joys of having a cousin whom she adored like a sister.

A much younger and very impulsive sister.

Heavens, the very thought depressed her, but such was her lot in life. So many people had it much worse.

Ever perceptive in her own way, Zoe rolled her eyes and waved negligently in Madame Ilie’s direction. “Give her a money charm and a health posset or whatever.” Then she looked back at Kynthea. “Never say I don’t listen to you.”

Kynthea laughed. How could she not? Zoe had a kind heart, and she did listen when she wanted to.

Perhaps after a few more years, she’d come to understand that the world worked differently for her than for nearly everyone else.

But until that day came, Kynthea would enjoy the girl’s unique personality and occasional bursts of generosity.

Because after Zoe’s marriage, Kynthea’s life would become very bleak indeed.