Page 30 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

R ebecca moved quickly upstairs, guessing that the women were closeted up there. She needed to see exactly how hurt this maid was. Or wasn’t. She wanted to trust Nate. Indeed, she did trust that what he had done with the girl was consensual. But she still wanted to see the girl with her own eyes.

She crept upstairs, listening for conversation, for sobs or gasps of pain. Miss Petrelli walked beside her, her expression cautious without stopping her.

They heard the voices the minute they topped the stairs.

Madame Joguet chattering away in rapid French that was too quick for Rebecca to understand.

She glanced at Miss Petrelli who shrugged.

She couldn’t translate it either. But they both could tell that there was no alarm in the tone.

If she had to guess, the lady was in a good mood. Which was greatly reassuring.

Steeling herself to commit a rude intrusion, Rebecca knocked on the door.

The French conversation stopped immediately. A moment later, a woman of middle age opened the door. She looked composed, and though her hair appeared hastily restrained, she smiled respectfully at them.

She was also the maid from the garden. The one at the ball when the baron had taken the truth serum. She’d been hovering in the shadows near Nate during that whole debacle.

Could this be the “girl” whom Nate had debauched? She had to be twenty years his senior.

“Bonsoir, mesdemoiselles!” Madame Joguet called. “Come in! Did you arrive with the handsome duke?”

“Er, yes,” Rebecca said. “I apologize for the intrusion. I have some small medical skill. I thought I could help if…” She swallowed. “Well, we don’t really know what happened. I thought I—”

“You thought you were needed?” trilled the madame. “You English are so droll. A virgin thinks to teach you, Frid.”

The maid in question bowed her head in response, but there was a smirk on her face.

“I would think,” Madame continued, “that the future duchess would know more, eh?”

Kynthea blushed, but she held her ground. “From everything your husband was saying, we feared the worst. I take it that Frid here was unharmed?”

“Only by the interruption,” Frid said, her tone amused.

Definitely consensual, then. Rebecca’s heart squeezed tight at the thought of Nate with another woman. It was illogical. She had long since given him up. Indeed, she’d decided just this morning that she would search for a different husband.

But she couldn’t deny a wholly illogical pain at the thought of Nate with somebody—anybody—else.

“You have no need for us, then—” Rebecca said, turning to leave.

“Nonsense,” trilled Madame Joguet. “Sit down. Since you have invaded my salon, you must tell me something entertaining, yes? Those are the rules!”

Not any rules that Rebecca honored. Fortunately, a male voice interrupted before she could form a response. It was Nate, his tone cordial if not exactly warm.

“Haven’t you gotten enough gossip for one night?”

“And there he is! The culprit himself.” Madame twisted so that she could see down the hallway. “Are any more coming?”

“Ras and Claude are negotiating,” Nate said. “I am here to…” He turned to Frid. “You are well?”

Frid grinned and sauntered up to Nate. Her strut was suggestive, and her eyes danced with amusement. “I could be better,” the woman drawled.

Rebecca didn’t think it was possible to see Nate blush. Indeed, if Fletcher were to be believed, Nate spent his days in thievery and his nights in debauchery. So the bright pink color on his cheeks seemed distinctly at odds with his reputation.

“Heidi,” he said as he took a step back. “We can discuss this better in private.”

Frid turned to her mistress. “You do not need me more this night, madame, do you?”

“Heidi!” Nate exclaimed, his voice strangled.

The mistress and maid both burst out in gleeful laughter until finally Madame waved her hand at Frid.

“Oh, leave the boy alone. You are too much for him.”

Nate straightened at the insult. “Not true, madame. I just prefer my affairs more discreet.”

Madame unbound her braid and began brushing her hair. “Is that not what Claude is determining now?”

“W-well yes,” Nate stammered. “But I know his negotiations have little impact on you.”

Now the lady smiled with a cat-in-the-cream-pot grin. “Very true, Lord Nathaniel. Tell me, how shall you buy my silence, while your friend buys Claude’s?”

Rebecca felt her insides tighten with shock. She had a great deal of experience with some of the darker sides of life. Healers like Mrs. Chenoweth saw depravity, even in their corner of Cornwall. Especially where horrors could be out in the open and still no one saw.

But she’d never seen such a household before. One where husband and wife turned everything to profit. While Monsieur extorted something from the duke, upstairs Madame laughed at Nate’s blushes while simultaneously demanding some sort of coin.

It wasn’t exactly depraved, not in the usual sense of the word. But it was coldly mercenary, and Rebecca wasn’t about to allow it continue. That was, if she could figure out a way for Nate to escape.

She needn’t have bothered. In this, Nate was clearly an experienced player. Rather than being outraged—as Rebecca was—he relaxed against the doorframe and shot the lady an indulgent look.

“No,” he drawled. “I don’t think I need your silence. Whatever you say will surely expand my reputation.”

“Unless I say that you skittered away from Frid like a boy with his first stiff.”

Nate chuckled. “And that would not be believed by anyone.”

The lady considered him, then glanced sideways at Rebecca and Miss Petrelli. “No one except these two ladies here. They saw your blush, clear as day.” She leaned forward, exposing an expanse of lush decolletage. “Non, Nathaniel.” She purred his name. “I require a forfeit.”

Nate casually brushed lint off his sleeve. “And what would that be?”

“I should like to know from Lady Rebecca—” Madame pointed her hairbrush straight at her target. “Do you intend to marry the half-dressed baron? Your brother says yes.”

“What?” Rebecca squeaked. “He certainly does not.”

“He has told me the details of your dowry. A large sum, yes? And a property to make up for your deficiencies.”

“My what?” Rebecca’s throat had gone tight. Fletcher couldn’t possibly have said that. Perhaps to her face, but not to everyone else!

But of course Fletcher would say that to others. It scared away suitors he did not like, leaving her with few options beyond the baron.

“Oh, ma chou,” Madame said, her tone half apology, half intrigue. “You are old, that is not news. Madness was hinted at, and I must say, coming to this liaison was not the act of a sane virgin, eh?”

“This lia—No!” Rebecca squared her shoulders. “I am spending the evening with the duke and Miss Petrelli. I had no idea—”

Madame dropped her chin in her hand, her tone gleeful as she bantered back. “You came up here, yes? Uninvited to inspect Frid. What did you think when you saw her? Did you think her too old? I tell you, Frenchwomen of any age make exquisite lovers.” And on those last words she blew a kiss to Nate.

He sighed. “She didn’t know. Cease teasing her—”

“But she does know, does she not?” Madame’s voice had turned cold. “She has seen hurt women before.” Madame leaned back in her chair as she fixed Nate with a considering look. “She feared that. From you.”

This was getting entirely too personal. And Nate was clearly upset by the thought as he shot her a wounded look. Rebecca shook her head. She hadn’t exactly feared that Nate had hurt some poor maid, but she’d needed to be sure.

Either way, she did not like Madame Joguet poking into things that were not her business. And she was about to say exactly that when Kynthea came to her rescue. The woman’s voice held the perfect note of sadness and strength.

“We both know,” Kynthea said, “what some men do to women. We came to help if needed.”

“Because Lord Nathaniel is known to hurt women?”

Only those he’d dallied with as a teenager. And that was as much her fault as his.

“Because,” Rebecca said tartly. “I believe nothing from a man’s mouth unless I can verify it.”

That silenced the room. Indeed, it momentarily shocked Rebecca. Her words had come from a place of dark anger. She hadn’t even realized how deeply she felt them until they dropped like stones into the room.

Madame’s expression faded, as did Frid’s. Nate looked at her with a sadness in his eyes. And maybe guilt. And Rebecca, realizing just how much she had revealed, decided it was time to end this conversation.

“I apologize for interrupting your evening, Madame Joguet. I believe it is time for me to return home.”

“Do not apologize,” Madame said, her words quiet. “I have very much enjoyed the time.”

Of course she had. No doubt she’d blather about the silly English girl for weeks to come. It didn’t matter. Rebecca hardly cared what was said about her. The whole exchange had left her with a sour taste in her mouth.

She nodded to them then turned to leave. Kynthea was already ahead of her. But then Nate touched her arm.

“Becca,” he said softly. “Not every man lies.”

She turned to stare at him, her brow arched. “Really? Do point him out to me, if you can. I should like to meet one.” She continued to walk away, and he easily kept pace.

“Didn’t you just apologize to me?” he asked, his words still spoken sotto voce. “ I believe you. Those were your exact words. Along with, I’m sorry .” He touched her arm. “I told you the truth.”

She heard hurt in his tone and felt a flush of shame. He was right. She had misjudged him this morning. Indeed, she couldn’t think of a single time he’d lied to her. It was what everyone else said about him that was the lie. Or more accurately, what Fletcher had said.

But there were secrets about him. This evening’s escapade proved it. And, damn it, she was tired of trying to sort through it all.

“I am done trying to figure you out Nate. It is too exhausting.”

“Becca, please, let me explain.”