Page 32 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

N ate watched revulsion hit Becca. She did not like the idea of making nice with the baron and he was thrilled that she had such a distaste of the man.

But mostly he felt guilt. He did not want her within a thousand yards of the baron, but there was no better way to keep the man occupied than with her.

With her in public, at a ball, where she would be safe.

He’d had to face difficult choices before. Most of his career had been relatively safe for the others around him. He was ferrying messages between Lord Benedict and the Foreign Office. Potentially dangerous for him, not so bad for others.

But there had been times when he’d had to beg for someone to hide him, for a farmer to carry him in his cart, for a soldier to trust him with the truth. That put others in as much danger as him. Sometimes more.

So asking Rebecca to make nice with the man for the evening had been hard, but it was for the war effort and for England. In the grand scheme of things, his request was a small thing. She wasn’t risking her life. All she’d lose was a little bit of time.

And yet the request cut at him. Especially since she seemed none too pleased with the idea.

Fortunately, Ras was there to ease the tense silence. “I think we’d best discuss this in private. Once we’re at my home.”

Nate didn’t argue, though his friend was naive to think any place was more private than a moving carriage. Especially if one spoke quietly. But he wanted to be home. He wanted his shoes off. And he wanted to hold Becca’s hand as he explained what he had kept so hidden for so long.

She might not accept his touch, but he wanted it nonetheless.

“At home then,” he agreed.

Kynthea nodded. “Perhaps Lady Rebecca and I should send messages to our homes. We are spending the night together, two girls getting to know one another.” She smiled as she clasped her fiancée’s hand. “Ras has enough bedrooms for us all.”

“And then some,” he grumbled. Then he pulled Kynthea’s hand up for a kiss. “I look forward to the day when you sleep beside me every night.”

Kynthea flushed pink, visible in the dark carriage more by the way she ducked her head than by the color in her cheeks.

Nate looked to Becca, wondering what she thought of such a display. Did she long for such deep affection? Did she fantasize about the day when she could rest beside her husband, waking in his arms every morning?

He did.

And maybe she did, too, given the quiet way she watched the affianced pair.

Was there longing in her gaze? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t ask.

There was too much silence between them for so intimate a question.

And so he sat beside her, wishing he could touch her with more than the press of his leg against hers.

And he waited.

Fairly soon, she would know everything about him. And then, perhaps they would find a new way to relate to one another.

When they arrived at the ducal home, the ladies went immediately to a writing desk to pen missives for home. Ras dismissed the staff—he wanted no one about during their discussion—and then belatedly went to look for some food for them to share.

Nate pulled off his stockings and shoes.

His feet were mostly healed. No more infection, only normal swelling after a long day. The cuts were healed, but he knew the bones were still fragile. Still, it felt good to let his toes stretch open and rest without weight.

He left on his other clothing, not because he wanted to but because it hid the wrapping around his ribs. Besides, it was scandalous enough to appear before ladies in bare feet. He couldn’t go in his shirtsleeves as well.

And then, they all reconvened in the back parlor. Kynthea set out a plate of fruit and cheese. Ras poured the brandy. And Becca sat quietly on the settee, her gaze troubled.

Nate sat beside her. “You needn’t help me,” he said quietly. “I am asking a lot.”

“I won’t help you without a full explanation,” she said tartly. “I will accept nothing less.”

“I know, but understand,” he said as his gaze took in everyone in the room. “I am risking a great deal by telling you this. If someone else finds out, if even a hint—”

“We won’t say a word,” Kynthea promised.

Ras nodded. But Becca said nothing. And he would not start until she gave her word.

Finally, she nodded. “Very well. I will not speak of this to anyone. No matter what it is.”

He could see that she was imaging all sorts of dastardly things. The risk, of course, was that she wouldn’t believe him. Once he told her everything, she could laugh it off as imagination. Which was exactly what she’d done this morning.

“Quit stalling,” Ras grumbled. “What have you been about?”

Might as well say it boldly. “Starting ten years ago, back when…” He glanced at Becca. “When I left home and did not return to school, I began working for the Crown.”

“Working?” Kynthea asked.

“Spying. For the Foreign Office.”

Ras blew out a heavy breath. “I thought as much,” he said. Of course he did. The man knew him that well. But the ladies looked at each other with confusion. They were not trained in the ways of war, so it was a surprise. Which meant he had to explain.

“In any war,” he said, “information is everything. Messages, troop movements, Napoleon’s secret plans. If we don’t know what he’s doing, we can’t plan.”

“All your trips away,” Ras said. “You were going to France?”

“I was going everywhere. I’m a fair sailor.

That was the first thing I learned. I worked as a waterman for nearly a year, then I was put on a ship to Spain, where I carried messages back and forth.

” He shrugged. “That’s what I did, but my real skill is in being friendly.

People know things. A war isn’t something that can be hidden.

People hear about troop movements and supply caravans.

They see important things, and they like talking about them with their friends. ”

Becca bit her lip. “And Madame Joguet’s maid?”

“Heidi Frid.”

“She is one of your friends?”

“She is. She despises Napoleon as deeply as it is possible to hate someone. She lost her husband and two sons to this war.”

“But isn’t she French?” Kynthea asked.

“She’s of German ancestry, but Napoleon is the one she blames. I got her and her daughter to England. She has helped me ever since.”

“By spying on Madame and Monsieur?”

“Of course not,” he lied. “She is someone who knows my past. We talk when one of us needs a friend.” He lifted his chin.

“I will not endanger her.” And that was the boldest lie he’d ever spoken.

Every day she reported on the Joguets was a risk.

Though, to be fair, he didn’t believe the pair were murderous.

If Heidi were discovered, she would be turned out without a reference, and he would help her find a new position.

Meanwhile, Becca spoke quietly, her words cold. “You promised not to lie to us again.”

His gaze sharpened on her. “What? I mean, I know.”

She held his gaze for a long moment. “There are levels, aren’t there? You can tell us about yourself, but not others. You can reveal your own secrets, but not—”

“Becca,” he interrupted, stopping her words. He didn’t need her exposing him so clearly. But what could he say? “Life is a great deal more complicated than I ever imagined. Warcraft, even more so.”

“And now you want me to help. You want to pull me into a web of lies and deceit.”

For the good of England! For the war effort. For all the soldiers fighting on the Continent right now. Not because he wanted to risk her or involve her in any way. But he couldn’t hide from telling her the bald truth. Especially when it involved her.

“Yes, I do.”

“And you trust me to do that?”

Didn’t she hear him before? “I am trusting you with my life right now. If the wrong people learn who I am, a beating by the docks is the least of what will happen to me.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t bring you into this if I had another option.”

“What do you need from us?” Ras asked.

He looked to his best friend. “I believe that the baron is shipping English rifles to Napoleon.”

“Bastard!” Ras exclaimed. Then he looked to Nate. “Monsieur Joguet didn’t tell me about rifles. He said it was food and simple, healthful things that the French needed. That they would pay handsomely for.”

“If Baron Corbis is involved, he’s running guns. He’s on the Board of Ordinance—”

“He’s the damned Storekeeper of the Ordinance!” Ras spat.

Nate nodded. “And he has a half-brother who is a soldier stationed there. Between the two of them, it could be done easily.” That had taken him the most time to discover.

Fortunately, the baron’s nanny was a talkative sort who had no great love for her employer.

She did adore the little girl though, and Nate had resolved to make sure she and the child remained safe.

“But he’s a military man!” Kynthea exclaimed. “Why would he do that?”

“Money,” Ras explained as he dropped back against the settee cushions. “Our rifles are better than any other variety. It’s a key advantage for England.”

Nate agreed. “Napoleon would pay well to outfit a small force with them.”

Becca, however, could not believe it. “The baron does not support Napoleon. The things he said about ‘that idiot Corsican’…” Her tone implied she was mimicking the baron’s words. “I don’t believe it.”

“Neither do I,” said Nate. “The baron believes in money, pure and simple. He would sell his own mother if he got a good price.”

Ras made a disgusted noise. “That’s what Monsieur kept saying. That there is profit in war for smart men.”

“Fletcher has said that, too,” Becca whispered, her face pale. “He admires the baron.” Her voice shifted to echo her brother’s tones. “The man knows how to make money.”

Kynthea shook her head. “But that the problem. He has plenty of money. There’s no need to betray his country for coin.”

“No need,” Nate agreed. “Except—”

“Greed,” Becca said. “They are greedy men, pure and simple.”

“Yes.”