Page 40 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

N ate spent most of the morning meeting with Lord Benedict.

His plan was complicated, required attention to detail, and needed him to personally speak with the people involved.

That last bit was the frustrating part. He couldn’t shake his worry for Becca.

She was going home to face Fletcher, and though she’d reassured him over and over that she could handle her brother, Nate was not so confident.

Fletcher was playing in deep waters. That often pushed a man farther than he ever meant to go. And it was usually his family who suffered the most.

So Nate fretted, even as he did what he needed to do for the war effort. But the moment he was free, he went searching for her. Fortunately, he knew she planned to go to the modiste with Kynthea.

He headed there as fast as he could reasonably move while still appearing casual. And when he arrived, he did so with an air of genial nonchalance. Lord Nathaniel was a useless fribble who didn’t have a care in the world.

That lasted for ten seconds. He sauntered into the modiste’s, smiled warmly at the girl who was not used to gentlemen entering their establishment, then leaped into motion when he heard Kynthea’s exclamation.

“Rebecca! Oh my God!”

He didn’t wait. He leapt past the girl to the back rooms. She must have cried out, but he didn’t hear it. Instead, he was completely focused on finding Becca. And find her, he did.

There she was standing in front of a mirror with a dreamy expression on her face.

Her hair was pinned up loosely and a few curls had tumbled down.

The dress she wore was exquisite. The color was a brilliant jewel tone of sapphire blue that brought out her eyes, and it curved perfectly to emphasize her full breasts.

But what struck him the most was the way she seemed to float as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her arms were slightly lifted and her hands moved in exaggerated ways, both expansive and slow.

And while he stood there scanning her, he realized she was wavering on her feet…

which was made worse when she turned at the sight of him.

“Nate—oh!” She had to reach out—too slowly—to catch herself. Fortunately, Kynthea was there with a stabilizing arm.

“Lord Nathaniel!” Kynthea exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

All his made-up reasons for being there flew out of his mind.

Instead, he watched as Becca wavered on her feet, her happy expression making her more beautiful than he’d seen her in a long while.

She was relaxed, her face seemed soft, and her smile was so genuine it made his heart ache.

Especially since her expression was trained on him.

“I—I was worried about her,” he finally admitted. “Becca, are you well?”

“Look at this dress!” Becca said as she turned—slowly—back to the mirror. “Kynthea has excellent taste, don’t you think?”

“Yes, she does,” he said, the words automatic. Then he stepped forward to help steady her on the opposite side. “How are you feeling?”

“Hmmm? Oh, I’m quite lovely.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “You are.” Because at this moment she looked positively radiant.

She turned to look at him, her expression beaming. “That was the truth!” she said. “I can hear it in your voice.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came to mind. Her expression was one he’d never seen on her before, not even when she was sixteen. She was open and happy, and looking at him like he was completely new. As if she’d never truly seen him before and was fascinated by the sight.

“Say something else,” she urged.

Was she drunk? He couldn’t smell any alcohol on her, but there was definitely something different.

“I’m here because I was worried about you. Did you have any problems with Fletcher?”

She grinned. “You really were worried!”

He frowned. “Becca—”

Kynthea interrupted, her voice loud. “This gown will be perfect,” she said. “Do you think we can have it altered in time?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said the modiste with a deep curtsey.

“I’m not ‘Your Grace’ yet,” Kynthea murmured. “And perhaps you have a private room where we could have a spot of tea? Just so Lady Rebecca can sit for a moment and have refreshments?”

“Right back here,” the modiste answered with a gesture. “No one will hear. I’ll make sure of it.” Then she looked at Nate. “If my lord would sit back there, I can get the tea prepared—”

“While I help Rebecca change,” Kynthea finished. “Yes, that will work.” She looked at Nate. “We’ll just be a moment.”

Clearly there was something wrong, but he knew better than to push. Not with servants hovering nearby. And yet, his worry for Becca kept him in place. “What happened?” he pressed, sotto voice.

“Fletcher dosed her,” Kynthea answered, her voice equally low. “She’s fine. Just a little fuzzy.”

Fury rolled through him, smashing past a dozen mental barriers that usually kept his thoughts to himself. His hands tightened, and it took him a moment to control them enough to help Becca walk behind a screen. When he could finally speak, he pushed out three words.

“Dosed. With. What?”

Becca turned, proving that there was nothing wrong with her hearing.

“A truth serum,” she said, her expression shifting back and forth between happiness and a frown.

“It was wrong of him, but I don’t mind anymore.

It was awful for a bit, but Kynthea’s here and now you are, too.

I’m happy. And this dress feels so good.

” Then she ran her hands down the silk gown.

It was clearly meant for her experience, but the gesture started at her chest and ran over her breasts. Her nipples pebbled as her body arched.

Oh good God. Now his body was thickening when he really needed a calm head. Because if he gave into emotions now, he’d likely go beat Fletcher to a bloody pulp.

“I’m so glad you like it,” Kynthea said, her tone light. “Now let’s get you out of it so madame can work on it.”

“But it’s perfect!”

“Not with all those pins in it. Come on. Raise up your arms.”

Meanwhile, Nate sat down in the secluded alcove.

He needed to make some quick decisions. First off, Becca was not going to be alone with Fletcher ever again.

That meant she needed another place to live.

Back home in Cornwall? She’d probably be safe there, though it ached to think of sending her away.

He could marry her, of course. Right now. But where would she live? Until this current situation was resolved, he was holed up in Ras’s guest bedroom. Hardly an appropriate place to take a new wife. But it was still a possibility.

He was mulling over options—each one more ridiculous than the last—when Kynthea and Becca joined him. Becca moved in that same floaty way. And when she sat, she kept trying to remain upright only to slowly sink into a half sprawl. It would be adorable, if he weren’t worried for her safety.

“When did this happen?” he asked, his voice low.

Becca appeared fascinated by the design painted on the wall, so Kynthea answered as she poured the tea.

“I think soon after she returned to her home. Fletcher was waiting for her. I didn’t get there until several hours later. By that time she was much better—”

“This is better?” he said watching Becca trace a painted swirl with her finger.

“Oh yes,” Kynthea said. “Though I think that was more emotional upset. She insisted on coming here. And I thought she was safer with me here than there.”

Damned right. “Emotional?”

Becca was still running her finger along the wall design, this time outlining the edges of a flower. But when she spoke, her words were clear. “Fletcher’s an angry and lost little boy. Henry and I weren’t good siblings to him. I see that now.”

“Fletcher’s an adult. Don’t romanticize—”

Becca gripped Nate’s hand with surprising strength. “You don’t understand,” she huffed.

“What don’t I understand?”

“The serum,” she said. “It doesn’t mean I tell the truth. It means I see the truth. And hear it.” Then she pursed her lips. “And it’s really hard to lie, too. But I rarely lie, so that isn’t a problem for me.”

Nate gaped at her, trying to adjust his thinking. Just to test it, he frowned at her and lied. “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard.”

She turned to him, her expression a tight frown. “You’ve heard a lot sillier things, haven’t you?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I have.” Then he pressed the teacup into her hand. “Drink up. Maybe it’ll help.”

She pushed it away. “I don’t want help,” she said. “I’m trying to hold onto it, but it’s fading. And soon I’ll have to go home again, and—”

“No. You’re not going back,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

She snorted. It wasn’t a delicate lady-like sound. It was a full snort. “You’re worried for me.”

“Of course, I am. Kynthea—”

“No, no,” Becca interrupted. “Don’t talk to her. Listen Nate. Fletcher’s angry and petulant. Oh, how that boy loves to sulk. But I’ve always been able to reach him before.”

He shook his head. “This is different.”

“And so am I,” she said, her voice more confident than he’d ever heard it. “I know how to reach him.”

“He dosed you. What else is he willing to do?”

She shrugged. “I’m doing what he wants. I’m going to give the baron a chance.”

He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to risk her in any way, but he didn’t see a better option. Worse, he wasn’t sure he could stop her.

“We could marry right now. You and me.”

Becca burst out with another full-throated laugh. “Wouldn’t that shock everyone?” she cried.

“I don’t care about anyone else. I’m worried about you.”

Rather than answer, she abruptly surged forward, pressing her mouth to his with too much speed. They banged together while he caught her elbows. Then he steadied her, all without breaking the kiss.

God, she was amazing right now. All enthusiasm and need. She thrust her tongue at him, and he dueled back. Trading thrusts like this made his blood surge. This was not a timid woman, uncertain of her path. This was Becca, bold and assured.

And she was kissing him in a way he’d longed to feel from her. He did not want it to end. But Kynthea was right here. And though he distantly heard her clearing her throat, it was the way she firmly pried his fingers off Becca that finally caught his attention.

“Stop it,” she was saying. “Good God, you two are incorrigible.”

He pulled back, his heart racing and his body urging him back to Becca.

“Nate, really! You know better.”

Did he? Yes, he supposed he did.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered. He’d been witness to a few of her and Ras’s kisses. They were no better. But of course, they were engaged. And he was…he had no idea what with Becca. But he wanted it all.

Kynthea’s cheeks colored pink, but Becca looked lush. Her eyes were heavy lidded, her lips swollen, and if they were in private, he knew he could not have held back. But Kynthea put a hand out to stop him.

“Did you make the arrangements for the Penrose ball?”

He nodded, doing his best to wrench his thoughts away from Becca.

“I did, but…” God, he hated sending Becca back home.

Then the woman stopped his thoughts. Becca took hold of his face with both hands. She didn’t even have to apply pressure for him to turn to her. He would always turn to her.

“Trust me,” she said. “I have been managing my family since before we met. I will be safe.”

Belief echoed in her words. Whatever the truth, she was confident in her abilities. And damn it, he had no other choice.

“Very well,” he said. Then he looked at Kynthea. “But you and Ras will be by her side throughout the ball. And do you think you could stay with her until then? Wedding preparations or something like that?”

Becca immediately brightened. “Oh, I should love that above all things! I like you so much. Even in Cornwall, there’s no one whom I like quite so much as you.”

Kynthea smiled. “I think I like this potion,” she said to Kynthea, her voice a bare whisper. “Since I feel exactly the same about you.”

And so it was done. Nate spent the rest of the afternoon with them.

As more time passed, Becca was steadier on her feet and absolutely delighted with the idea of shopping.

Since Kynthea had a million shops to visit in preparation for her wedding, they fell into step with one another.

Nate carried the packages and spoke entertaining nonsense.

And he gloried in seeing Becca blossom at the happy tasks.

By the time it was all over, she and Kynthea had cemented their friendship. But what would become of him? As delighted as Becca seemed, she had not expressed interest in marrying him. Indeed, she had laughed straight in his face at the very idea.

Desperate for one last moment with her, he touched her elbow before she climbed into the carriage with Kynthea. “Go to the Carre ball tonight,” he pressed. They had a couple days yet before the Penrose ball. He would use that time before he put her life at risk.

She frowned at him. “Tonight? Why?”

“I want to dance with you. A waltz.” He couldn’t ask for more without tipping his hand or further upsetting Fletcher. But one dance could be easily explained away as being polite. One dance when he could hold her in public and he could court her as he’d always longed to do.

“One waltz,” she said. “I’d like that.”

Then his expression fell as his logical side reasserted itself. “Actually, I should ask, and you should refuse me. That would reassure Fletcher.”

“But I wouldn’t!”

He grinned. “Or we could make a scene.”

He heard a very loud groan from inside the carriage. It was Kynthea as she grabbed hold of Becca and dragged her inside.

“Stop it,” she hissed in an undertone. “There will be no scene tonight, and no more looking at each other like that in public. Not until all is resolved.” Then she very pointedly glared at Nate and said, “Go away!”

His eyes widened at how angry she sounded.

It was forceful enough that he backed up a step.

And then his peripheral vision showed him exactly what Kynthea must have noticed.

Several members of the ton were nearby. Several who would now take tales of a loud altercation rather than a heartfelt goodbye.

Very well, he could play the part.

“You are becoming quite shrewish, Miss Petrelli,” he retorted. “I believe Lady Rebecca is having a terrible influence upon your nature.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and left. While inside, he mourned. He couldn’t dance with her now. Not after that display.

Unless he thought of something very clever.