Page 42 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

Still, she swallowed down her response. He needed the last word to feel like he’d won. And so she lowered her gaze as if she were cowed. He snorted as if to cement his victory. Then he strode for the front door, slowing long enough to grab his hat before departing.

She stared after him, her thoughts quietly churning.

The gloves were off between them now. He’d never spoken so cruelly to her.

Not in front of others. No doubt, he was feeling the pressure of his plans.

She would have to hold out, though. If Nate had the timing right, she need only delay a few more days and this would all be over.

The baron would be arrested for treason, and whatever schemes Fletcher had with the man would be gone.

But she would have to be doubly careful around him until then.

Kynthea reached out and squeezed her hand. “Let’s look at what we bought today, yes?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Mama, on the other hand, pressed a hand to her forehead. “I believe I shall go lie down. I need to rest before tonight’s party. Pity you won’t be able to come tonight, Rebecca, but your health comes first.”

“Yes, Mama,” she said meekly.

Two hours later, she was dressed and ready to go to the Carre ball. The other ladies had departed, leaving just her and Kynthea. They had to go by her home, as she also needed to dress. And when Mama came out of her bedroom to wonder at the noise, Rebecca merely laughed.

“I feel so much better now, Mama! See you at the ball.”

Then she and Kynthea rushed out of the house, giggling like two young girls as they escaped. Now this was being childish. But it felt so good that Rebecca refused to feel bad about it.

Indeed, she was filled with delight well into the evening. She adored Kynthea. And thanks to her proximity to a future duchess, her dance card was abruptly full. Every dance, that is, except for one waltz.

Several men asked for it. Several men saw the waltz held and tried to find out which lucky gentleman would get the dance. And several women commented as well, but she never told. Kynthea knew, though, and she didn’t hold back her opinion.

“You cannot,” the woman muttered when she saw the empty space. “Everyone is watching.”

What she meant—as she’d said over and over in the carriage—was that anyone looking at her and Nate would see the growing relationship. Whatever their plans were in the future, she had to pretend to be interested in the baron next Tuesday. So she couldn’t be seen making eyes at Nate.

It was logical, and Kynthea likely had the right of it.

It was just one dance but given the amount of speculation surrounding her single blank line, she knew that everyone was watching for who she was saving it for.

Everyone would know and gossip about it.

And if she danced with Nate, then everyone would know he was special to her.

She couldn’t pass it off as just a dance to be polite.

So when Nate finally arrived, looking so handsome she wanted to swoon, she had to keep her face cold. She had to allow him to bow over her hand, to stroke her palm with his fingers, and she had to sternly pull her dance card back.

“My card is full,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Full?” he asked, his expression wounded. “But there’s a—”

“Full,” she repeated. And then she turned away.

A cut direct.

She had to. She had to. She had to.

She heard his breath catch. She heard the whispers around her. And she saw Kynthea’s small nod of approval. It was for show, she knew. Kynthea didn’t like hurting Nate any more than Rebecca did. But it had to be done.

A few minutes later, Lord Nathanial left the ball.

And in the morning, things got worse.

A new gossip column began with the words, “Has Lord Nathaniel overstayed his welcome? The future duchess of Harle certainly thinks so and her attitude is catching. Lord Nathaniel’s star grows dim.”

Oh hell. All she’d wanted was a dance with him, and now she’d just ruined him in society. Few people ever recovered after printed gossip like that. Whether or not his star had been dimming, it certainly would now. And she had no idea how important it was to him.

Fletcher looked over her shoulder to read the column. His laugh was loud and cruel.

“Couldn’t happen to a more deserving bloke,” he chortled.

She had to press her lips together to keep her harsh retort inside, though she felt like she was choking on it. Fletcher noticed. Of course he did. She wasn’t as good at keeping her emotions hidden as she’d once been.

“You care, don’t you? You don’t want his star to dim.” He settled down in the chair nearest her while he studied her face. “Why?”

She didn’t like him this close. Yesterday, his hatred had been palpable. Now he seemed congenial, almost kind. Nevertheless, she had to answer.

“Because gossip is cruel and always unfair.”

“You once said you were in love with him,” Fletcher continued. “Are you still?”

“I never said that,” she stated flatly. Because she’d been sixteen and her father had just had a heart attack from discovering them. She couldn’t claim love then. Not with the feud between their families re-ignited.

“You felt it. You cried—”

“For Father.”

“So he was an itch to scratch? Is that what you are? A whore to spread your legs—”

“Enough, Fletcher!” She pushed back from the breakfast table. “I am your sister, someone who loves you. But that does not give you the right to speak to me like that.”

He was silent for a long moment, then he nodded. “Of course. My apologies. But Rebecca, tell me the truth. Do you love him?”

“No.”

Lie.

“Then you’ll have no trouble with me increasing the speed of his fall.” A statement, not a question.

“What are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “The ground is fertile now for all sorts of tales. Perhaps I’ll start with the one about how he killed our father.”

“You will not dredge that up! It will hurt me as much as him.”

“True,” her brother mused. “I suppose I’ll just have to hold that back for now.”

“For now? Fletcher, why do you insist on threatening me?” She looked at him. She hated this. He was her brother. She ought to feel better about him. They ought not be at war.

Meanwhile, he gave her a slow, deliberate smile. And with the way the sunlight was hitting his face, she was struck by how handsome he was. Curly brown hair with golden highlights. A sweet smile and earnest eyes. And words that sounded so nice and yet still managed to give her chills.

“Rebecca. You’re my sister. Why would I want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” That was the truth.

“I love you, and I’m just looking out for you.”

How easily he said the word “love.”

“I don’t need—”

He banged his hand down on the table hard enough to make her jump. “That’s where you’re wrong, Rebecca.” He spit out her name like bad meat. “This is a delicate time for you. You will heed my advice or I will send you back home. Immediately.”

And there again was the real threat. He would send her home.

But that wasn’t as terrible a fate anymore.

Back home, she could convince Henry that she was a spinster who wanted to live on her dower property, in quiet contemplation.

But that wasn’t true. She wanted more out of her life than the hermit existence that he had.

But she could convince her oldest brother of that and move on from there.

But what would Nate do? He’d be left without anyone to distract the baron, and Fletcher would get trapped in whatever nefarious activities the blasted man had going. She couldn’t do that for either man.

And so she bowed her head. She gave in to Fletcher because she only needed a few more days. Just until Tuesday’s ball. Then everything would look a lot different.

Seeing her diminished attitude, Fletcher straightened up from the table. “Have we reached an understanding?” he asked.

Delay. Delay. Delay. “Yes,” she said.

“Good. I have spoken with the baron. He’s received an invitation for the Penrose ball.”

She looked up. Nate worked fast.

“He’s very excited to put that unpleasantness behind you both. Especially since it wasn’t really his fault, now, was it?”

“No, I suppose not.” She couldn’t blame him for how he’d acted under the influence of the truth serum. Just for the things he’d said.

“Excellent. Wear a dress he’ll like.”

“I can pick my own clothes, Fletcher.”

“Now don’t get tetchy with me. I’m only trying to help.” He smiled indulgently down at her. “I am to see him this afternoon to work out the details. He’ll want the first dance with you. And then three waltzes.”

Three! That would be tantamount to an engagement.

“I cannot promise that.”

Fletcher sighed as if she were growing tiresome. “You always have to do things your way. Very well. Two waltzes, but mind that he has the first dance. And make sure they are the last two waltzes. It’s best if you keep him dangling after you all night.”

“Why?”

“Because he must work for what he wants.”

Yes, she supposed that was true. And it helped that it was exactly what Nate wanted as well. “And what will you do?”

Fletcher grinned. “I will be securing my position in this little dance.” He was smiling as he gave her a slight bow. Was he mocking her? It was hard to tell. “I won’t be around the next few days. Mother will have to escort you. Pray don’t create a scandal while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Cornwall with the baron. He wants to see your property.”

“But—”

“I’ve written Henry. Told him that selling the property would be a huge mistake. You were having a lover’s tiff with the baron, and he should disregard anything you’ve written.”

She stared at him. Henry would see the truth, wouldn’t he? That Fletcher wasn’t speaking truthfully. Of course, now that she was thinking of a vastly different future, she didn’t want her brother to sell the property either.

Good God, Fletcher had done her a favor.

“I’ll write to Henry as well, tell him not to sell.” Her oldest brother would think she had taken leave of her senses. Two contradictory instructions in so short a time.

“Good—”

“But why must you go to Cornwall with him?” She didn’t want her brother anywhere near the baron. The more distance she could put between them the better. “Let him see the property on his own. You should stay in London—”

“I cannot remain here, waiting upon you hand and foot.”

“But—”

“Enough. Your task is to remember how good the baron will be for you. Be prepared to accept him when we return.” He grinned as he adjusted his waistcoat. “Everything is finally going the way it ought. Do not overturn the applecart now. Good day.”

She watched him leave, a spring in his step like she’d rarely seen on him. Why did the sight make her heart sink? Was it because her brother was up to something? Ridiculous question. Fletcher was always up to something, and she rarely cared what.

Or was it because she’d just lied to her brother with such certainty that she wondered at her own feelings. She’d said she didn’t love Nate and never had.

But she did.

She loved him. She wanted to marry him.

But how exactly was she going to accomplish that when she’d just destroyed him in society and her family was dead set against him? She didn’t really care about her family. She’d like Henry to give her away, but even that wasn’t really important.

The problem was Nate’s diplomatic career. He’d told her about Lord Benedict’s offer. That he didn’t have to run around being a spy anymore. He could take a respectable diplomatic post.

But would that still be possible if he was ruined socially? If she only brought him scandal and difficult in-laws? She didn’t know. And she couldn’t get an answer until after Tuesday. Everything hinged on that.