Page 27 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

“A nd where might you be going in such a foul temper?”

Nate looked up from the pavement, startled to hear Lord Benedict’s cheerful voice in his ear. Damn, he was slipping if he hadn’t even noticed the tall man stepping up beside him.

“Sorry, sir. Er, My Lord.” Nate closed his eyes and forcibly brought his attention to the present. “I was merely thinking.”

“And stomping down the pavement like an angry bull.”

Was he? “I’m not used to being up this early.” Then he frowned. “What are you doing here? And at this hour?” Benedict was usually up late with various diplomats discussing whatever those drunken diplomats had let slip.

“Haven’t been to bed yet. Went for a walk to wake up and saw you stomping down the street.”

Nate nodded, delicately trying to find a way to escape his superior. It didn’t work. The man was too perceptive.

“My carriage is just ahead. Shall we alight? I’ll give you a ride back to your bed. You can tell me all the latest gossip.”

“Gossip?” Nate frowned. “I—”

“I hear you gave a hand to poor Baron Courbis. How is the man?”

Oh. That. Was that just last night? The baron would be the center of gossip now for several days, which made Nate a cause célèbre because he’d escorted the idiot home.

That was usually a favorite situation, as Nate would ride the wave of interest to gain entry to all sorts of gatherings.

It was how he stayed on top of society and managed to be friendly with as many souls as possible.

One never knew what sort of tidbits were discussed in the darkened corners of ballrooms or in the attached cardrooms.

But at the moment, that seemed like an awful amount of work. He hadn’t the heart to for it, and Lord Benedict was too perceptive to miss it.

“Come along, Nate,” he said quietly. “Let’s have a pint.”

“A bit early, isn’t it?”

“Not if you’ve been up all night.” Then he shrugged. “Have something else if you want.”

He couldn’t refuse. And honestly, he didn’t want to. He was by nature a social creature and he wanted to talk to someone who knew everything about him. Or cry into his pint with him. Either way, he nodded.

Soon they were in the back corner of a quiet tavern, one favored by Lord Benedict for good food and a discreet owner. Instead of the promised pint, Benedict ordered stew and water, claiming he needed to keep his head clear for the day’s work.

Nate felt no such restraint. He also didn’t start speaking until Benedict prompted him.

“How are the ribs?”

“Horrid. But healing.”

“Hmmm. And I assume you just had a meeting with your publisher?”

Nate’s head jerked up. “You know about that?”

“I prefer the flying machine stories to the pirate ones, but I’ve enjoyed them both.”

Oh! He flushed at the compliment. “I had no idea you enjoyed frivolous pastimes.”

His superior leaned forward. “I have a confession to make. I began reading your journals in Spain. While you slept.”

Nate jolted. “What?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I reasoned it was your duty to entertain me. And you did.” He took a bite of his stew. “Is Mr. Newman pressuring you for the next installment?”

“No. Well, yes, but I can manage that.”

“So what has you so foul a mood?”

“I think it’s time for me to travel again.

” The words surprised him. He hadn’t been thinking that at all, but once voiced, he considered it seriously.

He had singular focus when he was away from London.

Deliver this message, bring back that information.

Clearly defined goals with obvious success or failure. And no heartbreak involved.

Better yet, the long nights of travel gave him time to write his stories.

“Have your feet healed?” Benedict asked.

“Well enough.” Though they were throbbing right now.

“So you miss working as a sailor, crawling around in ditches, and sleeping in muck.”

Nate shot his superior a glare. “I like a clean bed as much as anyone.”

“And you’re not a young man anymore. Injuries will get worse, recovery takes longer.”

Nate stabbed a spoon into his food. “I’m not in my dotage.”

“You’re past 30. That’s ancient in a soldier.”

“I’m still useful!” he snapped.

“Yes, you are. But not if you’ve died in a ditch because you were too slow to run from the guns.”

Nate couldn’t argue. Even if he hadn’t had broken toes, he was noticeably slower than when he’d been a teen. And given his ribs, he wasn’t sure he could comfortably run the sails anymore.

“Have you given a thought to marriage?” Benedict asked.

“What?”

The man leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his lean face. “I’m thinking of it. Got to continue the title and all that. Plus, a wife can always help a man in the diplomatic corps. A smart woman has eyes and ears that can be made useful.”

Nate stared at him without speaking. He’d never thought Benedict would marry. He just didn’t seem the type. Though such a coldly logical approach to it was entirely in the man’s character. Marry because she could be useful as a diplomat’s wife? Didn’t the man want tender feelings somewhere?

“What happened with Lady Rebecca?”

Nate’s eyes widened.

“She’s your Miss Beauty, yes?”

Yes. “How’d you know?”

Benedict arched his brows, and Nate looked away. They’d shared the mud in Spain. Benedict—well, mostly his batman Major Vance—had trained them both in that hellhole. The major had practical know-how. Benedict had a keen intellect. And Nate had the charm to make friends out of enemies.

They hadn’t only survived in Spain, all three of them had matured. And eventually thrived. Benedict and Major Vance knew more about Nate—and he about them—than even Ras.

Which meant he might as well tell the truth.

“Lady Rebecca was a youthful fantasy,” he said, his gaze dropping to his stew. “And as you have so deftly pointed out, I’m no longer young.”

“Hmm. Is she going to marry Baron Courbis?”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Not after last night.” Assuming, of course, that she could stay strong against Fletcher’s pressure.

“Yes, what was that? What I heard didn’t sound like a drunk.”

“He wasn’t drunk. He’d been dosed with a truth serum.”

“You don’t say!”

Nate explained everything he knew about it and how the baron had come to consume it. Typically, Benedict was fascinated by the concept and pushed for more details than Nate had.

“She said she got it from the same apothecary that sold Ras’s fiancée the love potion.”

Benedict nodded. “I’ll have Major Vance look into it.”

“Good—”

“So what have you discovered about the rifles?”

That was Lord Benedict. His mind leaped from one topic to the next faster than lightning. It was up to the rest of the world to keep up.

“Nate?” the man pressed.

“I’ve barely started investigating. Madame Joguet isn’t involved.

” He’d learned that from Frid this morning.

“Something is happening between Monsieur and Baron Courbis, but I don’t know what.

I have my contact looking in the obvious places, but I’ll need to do a thorough search of his office soon.

He has that locked drawer in his desk and the hidden safe in the floorboards. ”

“Do you think it’s him?”

“Courbis has easy access to the weapons, but he needs a way to smuggle them out. We know Monsieur has had bad gambling losses lately.”

“He has? I haven’t heard that.”

Nate flashed him a smug look. “That’s what I’ve been doing since the ball.

Been compiling a list of people abruptly in difficult financial circumstances.

” He’d visited nearly gaming hell in town.

Fortunately, lounging at a table did not require him to do anything on his feet.

Though damn, it had been hell on his ribs.

“Show me,” Benedict said.

Nate fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and passed it over. Benedict scanned it, then secreted it away on his own person.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Benedict said. “I cannot understand how you get this information.”

Nate shrugged. “People like talking to me, and they trust me not to tell.” Which, for the most part, was true. He didn’t tell anyone but Benedict. And Benedict didn’t care…unless the information involved gun running or any other form of treason.

“Very well,” Benedict said with a satisfied nod. “You think Baron Courbis and Monsieur Joguet are joining forces.”

“It’s a possibility. Monsieur needs money, and I don’t like Courbis.” But that had more to do with the man’s interest in Becca than anything else. “Either way, we need to know what Monsieur’s new venture is.”

Benedict set aside his empty stew bowl. For a man who generally had refined tastes, he did enjoy plain fare sometimes. They both did because they both remembered times when there’d been no food at all.

“When can you search his home?” Benedict asked.

Nate sighed. He needed to rest. He’d been pushing his ribs and feet lately. But he also needed something to occupy him beyond brooding over Becca.

“I’ll go tomorrow night,” he said.

“And I’ll keep a couple people watching the docks. Maybe they’ll find something.”

“And maybe they’ll be knocked on the head and thrown into the Thames.”

Benedict shrugged. “They’re street boys, Nate. Quick and easily overlooked. Unlike a nob in his thirties loitering where he doesn’t belong.”

“I wasn’t dressed as a nob.”

“Either way, you’re too valuable to lose because you’ve caught a chill in the dark. Or had to go swimming in the Thames to save your life.”

Nate wanted to object, but he knew Benedict had a point. He’d survived that dockside attack by sheer luck. He could have died in several ways that night. And he was still feeling the effects of it three weeks later. Full health would likely take a month or more.

“Think about marriage, Nate. You could step out of the shadows and into an official position.”

“With a wife.” It wasn’t a question. Benedict had said as much.

“They’re useful creatures. For both of us.”

Nate shook his head. He’d given up on Becca. She was in his past now. But that didn’t mean he was ready to embrace another woman.

“It’s a lifetime commitment,” he said. “I’m not going to do it just to get a job.”

“You’ve been invaluable to the war effort, but we are going to defeat Napoleon eventually. Sooner or later, we won’t need you to skulk about getting us information on troop movements. What will you do then?”

He didn’t know, and he didn’t like thinking about it. “Napoleon isn’t defeated yet,” he growled. “I’m still useful.”

“Of course you are.”

“I’ll figure out who’s selling those rifles. And then, I’ll go wherever you need me.” He lifted his chin. “So long as it’s not into the parson’s trap.”

Benedict smiled. “Suit yourself. I suppose a wife would be inconvenient, given where I’d likely send you.”

And on that ominous note, the man paid the tab and cheerfully departed. Which left Nate free to get what he needed before burgling the Joguet household.

Even though he had a night to rest, Nate still felt slow when it was time to go.

Being quick on his feet had been his best asset when burgling a house.

Right now, though, he felt as quick as a sick ox.

Normally, he wouldn’t risk it, but he was anxious to solve the gun running problem and get out of England.

And besides, there might not be another good opportunity for a while.

Madame and Monsieur were attending the theater this night. He went despite his misgivings. Frid let him into the house.

Together they searched Monsieur’s known hiding places and found a few new ones.

And then they were found out. Worse, it was Monsieur Joguet who discovered him.

Nate could bribe a servant, but the master of the house was a much bigger problem. Thankfully, he had a backup plan. He’d prepared a cover story and arranged to have a woman substantiate his tale.

Unfortunately, that very same tale would make the rounds of the ton by morning.