Page 44 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

T he baron was in a jovial mood. Rebecca could tell he was working to appear somber.

He needed to come across as contrite as he made his way back into society.

And since Fletcher insisted Rebecca publicly apologize to the baron for dosing him—an irony if there ever was one—the man had reason to expect full exoneration.

So he was grinning as he bowed over her hand that evening. She’d already marked the dances she would give him. The first dance and the last two waltzes. His smile was triumphant as he took out a pencil and made to scrawl his name on a third waltz, but she abruptly pulled her hand back.

“Baron, what a pleasure to see you this evening. I do want to apologize again for what happened the other night. I had no idea my cough medicine would affect you so dramatically. I should never have given it to you.”

“Don’t fret, my dear,” he said as he made to retrieve her dance card. “One doesn’t expect women to understand the intricacies of medicines.”

She kept her arm back as she continued, her voice tart despite her intention to remain cordial. “I understand them very well,” she said, but then honesty forced her to confess the truth. “But I’m afraid I was not experienced with this particular one. And I didn’t expect you to—”

“Never mind, my dear. Look! I see your brother over near the lemonade.”

Fletcher was nearer to the bottles of spirits, but it wasn’t polite to mention that. “Do go see him, Baron. I’m afraid I’ve promised to stay with Miss Petrelli for a while. Did you hear the news that I am to be one of her bridesmaids?”

“Yes, yes! Wonderful! But I’m sure she can spare you for a few minutes. I want to show you off. Nothing compares to having a beautiful woman on one’s arm.”

“But—”

“I insist.”

Well, he clearly already considered them married. The high-handed way he ordered her around set her teeth on edge. But tonight she had to keep him dangling beside her, so she cast Kynthea an apologetic look.

Thankfully, Kynthea understood. She glanced significantly at the duke who stood nearby. He was surrounded by people who wanted to talk with him, but Rebecca was confident that he would come to her aid, should she need it.

“We’ll just take a turn around the ballroom,” Rebecca said. “Then I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, I should love some lemonade as well,” Kynthea said with a smile.

“Excellent,” the baron cried as he offered his arm to the future duchess.

Rebecca hated giving him so much consequence. His social standing rose every second he had her and a future duchess beside him. But it was a small price to pay to keep Nate safe.

As expected, the man took his time wandering across the room. He clearly wanted to maximize this return to society, so he greeted everyone there, making sure to crow about having two such highly prized woman with him.

Fletcher watched them traverse the room, his expression smug. But by the time they finally made it to him, he became more conciliatory. He greeted them warmly, he kissed Kynthea’s hand, and offered to get the baron a glass of something more sporting than lemonade.

Rebecca tried to take that opportunity to escape the man. “Kynthea, let’s get the lemonade—”

“No, no, stay with us,” the baron interrupted. “After all, we’ll be family soon. Even you Miss Petrelli! Fletcher says he and the duke are old school chums.”

“Yes,” Kynthea said with a tight smile. “So he mentioned.”

Fletcher grinned. “Do allow me a waltz, Miss Petrelli. We must get to know one another better.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kynthea said. “I’m afraid the duke has captured all of those.”

“Ah then, at least a quadrille.”

And so the conversation went. Polite discussion, all smiles, and every time Rebecca tried to escape the men, one of them firmly pulled her back to the baron’s side.

And because Kynthea was showing herself to be a loyal friend, the future duchess remained nearby, even when other people tried to gain her attention.

Rebecca couldn’t have been more pleased when the dancing finally began. Since this was a come-out ball, the young lady and her father had the opening dance. After that, everyone could join, and Rebecca dutifully allowed the baron to take her hand.

“I’m very pleased that your brother and I could come to an understanding,” he said as they stepped into position. “He compromised on the last point and is anxious to see our two families united.” The baron waggled his eyebrows. “He spoke of a special license so we can wed immediately.”

She arched a brow. “Immediately?” No doubt to finalize that before the sale of her dower property. “And what exactly is this understanding?”

“That you and I shall live happily ever after together.” He leaned forward and winked. “Your dowry shall see to that. I saw everything I wanted during my visit there. Excellent piece of land.”

Oh really? She bit her tongue rather than speak her true thoughts aloud. “And what shall I get from this?”

“Ecstasy in the bedchamber.”

Her eyes widened. That was a bold thing to say straight to her face.

“Don’t blush! Fletcher tells me you’re well-versed in these things. The benefits of a country education, I suppose.”

“And what does Fletcher get out of this situation?” She wanted to hear the words straight from the baron’s mouth.

“The opportunity to work with me!” He turned and gave a broad wink to her brother who was joining the dance line with his own partner. He stood right next to the baron as he addressed Rebecca.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear. “Everything is working out splendidly.” Then he grinned at his partner as they prepared to dance.

She gave her brother a wan smile. Both men were in the happiest of moods. Well, let them enjoy their crowing. So long as she kept the baron engaged—without becoming too engaged —then everything would work out all right.

But she couldn’t exactly roll over for him, either.

“Do not be so sure of me yet, sir,” she said archly. “You wouldn’t respect me if I tumbled too easily.”

The baron snorted. “You must learn when to resist and when to submit. But never fear. I will give clear instructions when necessary.”

A shiver ran down her spine at those words. The man didn’t like her challenging him, especially in public. Well, he would learn—after tonight—that she was not a woman who allowed others to make her decisions. But for right now, her task was to dance a quadrille.

So she did.

She smiled, she danced, and she even enjoyed some conversation with others at the ball.

Thankfully—or miserably, she wasn’t sure which—the baron stayed nearby.

He had his own dance partners, of course, and times when he stood along the wall drinking whatever liquor he fancied.

But he never let her out of his sight and so she was easily able to keep track of him.

If she were brutally honest, he wasn’t much different than other men she’d met.

The attitude that her marriage could be decided by her brother was a typical belief.

The fact that he never talked about his daughter was also normal.

And his general attitude that he would teach her to obey, well that was a common as bread.

Her brother couldn’t understand why she was upset about it.

And she was. Because she was the unusual one here. The one who had secretly learned medicine in defiance of her family. The one who blithely said yes to her brothers, then went off and did whatever she chose without guilt. Or without much guilt.

And now, she was the one who had an acute distaste of the baron because she’d spent the night with a man who appreciated her tales as much as she enjoyed his.

She’d told him about sneaking out of the house just so she could tend to a set of sick twins.

He told her about tending ill sailors and the horror of drunks trying to manage the sails.

She doubted that the baron would enjoy her stories nearly so much. Nor would he touch her the way Nate had—with reverence and an innate glee at watching her discover pleasure. She had enjoyed many more peaks that night than he did, and he didn’t seem to care. Or count!

Every man she knew measured every aspect of his life in gains and losses. Every man except Nate. What they had shared was love. It was as pure as it had been ten years ago, but with the added perspective of maturity.

She just had to get through tonight. Then she’d—

Where was Fletcher going?

She’d been getting some lemonade because she was parched. Dancing took a lot of work. Then she’d looked for the baron, only to find him with Fletcher. The two shook hands, the baron clapped her brother on the back, and then Fletcher departed.

Not to the card table.

Not to the garden to get some air.

He’d left the ball and Rebecca wanted to know why. He was her escort as Mama had elected to go to a different fete tonight. He wasn’t supposed to abandon her in the middle of a ball. She could go home with Kynthea and the duke, but that wasn’t what was important. Why would he leave?

She made her way to the baron, careful to keep her expression neutral.

He was in the middle of speaking effusively with an MP in the House of Lords.

She waited, listening with interest to his political views.

They were measured, thoughtful, and very typical when speaking with a conservative member of the Tory party.

But she’d also heard him expound on the exact opposite views when speaking with a Whig.

She stifled an internal sigh. She already knew she couldn’t point out his double-dealing. Ladies weren’t supposed to weigh in on political matters. So she waited as every good maiden must, and then when he finally turned to her, he had something else entirely on his mind.

“Is it time for our waltz already? Goodness, don’t say I’ve forgotten the time!”

“No, no! But…I just saw Fletcher leave. Do you know where he’s going?”

“Oh that. Don’t worry. He shall be back in time to escort you home. And if not, then I shall be happy to—”

“That’s not appropriate yet, sir,” she said, feigning an embarrassed giggle. She’d learned that he loved it when she played the coquette, but damn it turned her stomach. “He didn’t say anything to me about leaving.”

“Nonsense. He’s merely doing me a favor.

Won’t take long.” He turned away from her, smiling at another MP who loitered near the liquor.

“You go on and enjoy yourself,” he added over his shoulder.

“The next set is about to begin.” Then he seemed to remember he was supposed to be courting her, so he turned back and gave her an elaborate bow.

“Don’t concern yourself with men’s matters.

He’s only doing a quick errand for me at the docks.

Then he’ll be right back. Has his eye on a young lady and he won’t miss his chance with her, I assure you. ”

She knew how he expected her to answer. He thought she would pursue the identity of whatever woman had caught Fletcher’s eye. She couldn’t care less, but she used the excuse to peruse the ballroom floor looking for Kynthea or the duke.

“Oh,” she said in a sweet voice. “Which girl?”

Damn it, both the duke and his fiancée were caught in discussions. It wasn’t surprising. People were always trying to sidle into their orbit. They were, after all, duke and future duchess. But that didn’t help her any.

“Why don’t you see if you can guess?”

She gave the baron a vacuous smile. “What a fun game,” she drawled.

“All right. I will.” Then she gave him an outrageous wink.

“You think you have outwitted me, but I am smarter than that. I don’t think the lady is out here at all.

I believe she is in the ladies’ retiring room, and that’s where I shall be quizzing all the girls about my brother. ”

The baron grinned. “Clever girl.”

She all but danced away as if to show her delight. In truth, she needed to be out of his sight. And out of Kynthea and Ras’s as well. Because she very much feared exactly what errand her brother was doing.

He had to be handling the gun exchange for the baron. After all, it couldn’t be trusted to any underling. And what better way to inextricably tie her family to the baron’s except by a shared crime?

The very idea made her sick. Her brother was many things, but she’d never believe he’d turn traitor.

And now she had a difficult problem. If it truly was her brother who was going to sell the baron’s rifles, then he would recognize Nate and know it was a trap. But even more important, Nate would recognize Fletcher, and her brother would be caught as a traitor.

He would be drawn and quartered for that.

She wanted her brother stopped, not killed. Which meant she had to halt the exchange. They would just have to catch the baron some other way. She could not have her brother hung nor Nate’s secrets exposed.

She ought to grab the duke or Kynthea. They would help her get to the docks, but they would also turn Fletcher in. They had no family loyalty to her difficult brother. So she had to go alone. And she had to go now.

She slipped out through a side door, mentally calculating the time.

The front lane was clogged with carriages.

It wasn’t a simple thing to leave a ball and climb into one’s carriage.

The driver needed to be notified, and a carriage brought round.

And her brother did like travelling in comfort.

There wasn’t any crest on his carriage, but it was well appointed and very comfortable inside.

Plus, he and his driver were thick as thieves. She’d noted it on several occasions.

Which meant her brother would not have bothered with a hackney but would take his own carriage to the docks. In fact, there it was! It was hard to be sure in the dark, but it was the best guess she had.

Making some quick calculations, she ran past the line of carriages, ducked through an alleyway to the next road, and hailed the first hackney she found, directing it to the docks. Then she settled against the squabs and tried to calm her racing heart.

She’d almost managed it. She was nearly calm when the carriage abruptly stopped, and the door opened.

“What—”

“Going somewhere, my dear?” the baron asked.