Page 50 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

W hat a wonderful thing to be mistress of one’s own home!

No more placating Mother, no more trying to get Henry to wash the mud off before meals, and most especially no more tiptoeing around Fletcher’s moods.

She was alone in her own home, and she could give the servants the night off whenever she wanted.

And tonight, she wanted.

She knew where tonight might end. She’d already spent a night in his bed. But she also knew that Henry was right. Everything had changed for her in a very short amount of time. How could she possibly know what she wanted now? It was too soon to decide anything.

But Henry never decided anything that he could avoid or put off, so his opinion wasn’t worth much.

Either way, she prepared for the evening by first going to the apothecary and learning everything she could possibly learn about the creation, storage, and uses of the truth serum.

It didn’t take long. She was given the recipe and told that no one had ever come back to describe their experiences.

And that Rebecca was the only soul who had asked for a second dose.

Then she dressed casually, ate dinner, and sent her servants away. Tonight, she would be alone, she declared. And then she sat by the servants’ entrance and pretended to read a book. Nate’s most recent book, actually, and her pretense fairly quickly turned into reality.

He entered well after dark while she was curled around a candelabra trying to make out the next page and the next and the next. He opened the door quietly, saw what she was doing, and grinned as if she had gifted him with the stars themselves.

“Oh good God,” she moaned as she set aside the book. “Tell me the villain doesn’t fall for that stupid a trick.”

“Which one? No wait. Don’t tell me. You’ll just have to read it to find out.”

“Oh never mind,” she huffed. “Besides, I’m sure he doesn’t. Your villains are always smarter than I expect.” She dropped her chin on her hand. “Just like you.” It was his heroines who needed work.

“I, smarter than you expect? Or extra villainous?”

She grinned. “I won’t tell you. You’ll just have to guess.”

He smiled back and then took her face in his hands.

The motion was quick, but his touch was gentle.

And then he pressed his mouth to hers. After the awkwardness between them, this was like a balm to her heart.

He still wanted her. He still cherished her.

And he kissed like a dream come true, all sweet gentleness but with increasing hunger.

She felt it in the pressure against her lips, in the thrust of his tongue, and…

And the way he pulled back when she wanted to arch into him.

“We said we were going to talk.” He flashed her a rueful expression. “I don’t mind waiting, but…”

“We need to be sure of one another first.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure.”

She was, too. She wouldn’t have invited him here if she wasn’t. But prudence dictated that she at least pretend to consider her options. And besides, she had something important to discuss with him. Something in which he was the only one who could properly advise her.

“Have you eaten?” she asked. “Cook has been trying to learn a Cornish pasty. She has a long way to go before making it perfectly, but it is—”

“Truly?” he cried. “Oh, how I have missed those!”

She laughed and unfolded herself from her seat. “Then we shall—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Not yet. Let us do what we came here for first. I confess, having never been dosed with a truth serum, I am anxious about its effects.”

She nodded. “Of course.” To be honest, she was nervous as well, but that had nothing to do with the serum. It was all about what she had to share. “I’ve got it set up in the upstairs parlor.”

His brows rose. “Upstairs? Isn’t that—”

“No one is home. I have sent them all away on holiday for the rest of the week.”

“The week!”

“Yes. I told them I needed quiet.”

“But a week without servants,” he said slowly. “Are you sure—”

She lifted her chin. “Do you imagine that I cannot dress and cook for myself until Monday? How long have you gone without a servant?”

“For most of several years, but—”

“But I am a lady of leisure? Do you forget that I have tended the sick, managed a household, and often done so without benefit of help?”

He flushed at her arch tone. “Yes, I suppose I had.”

And right there was the crux of why she was afraid of leaping ahead with him. “You still think me a pampered child of sixteen. Even though I was never all that pampered.”

“Not a sixteen-year-old,” he said. “More a…” He glanced down at the book she’d been reading.

She guessed what he was thinking without him saying the words. “I am the heroine of your books, aren’t I?” It wasn’t conceit. She’d already seen similarities between herself and the women in his books.

“That’s not how I see you.”

She arched her brows.

“It’s not how I see you now.”

She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that he understood she was a lot more capable than anyone had ever given her credit for. But she was so used to being under-appreciated that she doubted anyone could see her true self. And as her husband, he needed to see her.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she finally said. “I want to know what you really think.”

He swallowed but held out his arm for her to show the way. “You think this will tell you?”

“Yes,” she said. Then she hedged. “Maybe. We will have to try it to find out.”

He agreed, and very soon they were seated in two cozy chairs by an unlit fireplace. She poured the appropriate amount in two glasses of wine. They clinked, then drank, watching each other’s eyes over the rims.

And when they were done, Nate set his glass down and pulled off his cravat. “How long will it take to go into effect?”

“Fifteen minutes or so. Not long.”

“Hmmm.” His gaze held hers for a long moment before looking away.

“Lord Benedict visited this afternoon,” she abruptly said. “We spoke for nearly an hour.”

“Today! That was fast.”

She nodded. “He doesn’t seem to be a man who waits, once he’s made up his mind.”

“No, he isn’t. What did he want?”

“He wants me to assist the Foreign Office. Nothing fancy, he said. Little stuff to see how I adjust and learn.”

“Is that all?”

“No. He mentioned that he is interested in finding a political wife. According to him, gentlemen with talented wives are the most valuable diplomats.”

Nate’s expression tightened. “You are not a political woman. You have never been involved in such things.”

“I haven’t,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt that she was enjoying Nate’s discomfort. “But a smart woman can learn, can’t she? And I—”

“You are teasing me,” he said. “You have never expressed interest in marrying Lord Benedict.”

She cast him a coy glance. “That wouldn’t be the polite thing, would it? To speak of one suitor with another.”

He leaned forward, capturing her hands. “I thought we were beyond such games. You do not need to tease me to make me jealous of all the men who prance after you.”

There hadn’t been that many men, but it was nice to feel noticed.

And since he was being so earnest—and honest—she twisted her hands until they were palm to palm.

“I’m not trying to make you jealous, Nate.

I want to know what you think. You know better than anyone what work with Lord Benedict would entail. How dangerous is it?”

He struggled with his answer. His mouth twisted and his jaw flexed.

But in the end, his words were exactly what she’d feared.

“A little dangerous sometimes, a lot dangerous sometimes, and everything in between.” He pulled her hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her fingers.

“I want to marry you, Rebecca. I want you to have my children. And I want to be with you as they grow, writing my books in the country and—”

“You would give up your work? The work with Lord Benedict?”

He paused before giving her a careful answer. “I am too old to keep working as I have been. But…” He shrugged. “Benedict thinks I could come out of the shadows. That I could be helpful when this war has ended.”

“He said as much to me. That the work for women is vital, especially during peace negotiations.”

Nate tightened his grip before releasing her. Then he stood up and began to pace about the room. She watched his slow movements, seeing in him a suppressed fear. One that she could not name but knew would come out before the night was over.

And indeed, he began the tale by abruptly turning to her. “So Benedict has offered us both a position. As a couple, we could work with him and Lord Castlereagh. We could help shape the world after Napoleon’s defeat.”

She nodded. That appeared to be exactly what Benedict was offering.

And she was intrigued. For a woman who had been locked up for most of her life in Cornwall, the idea of participating on the world stage was extraordinarily appealing.

Assuming, of course, she had someone beside her to teach her how to go on, to show her how to be both safe and effective.

Someone like Nate. But only if he wanted to.

She looked at him, trying to feel what he wanted. What she wanted. “Do you truly want to sit by a fire in Cornwall and watch our babies grow?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“I think you would be bored.”

“I think you would be, too.” There was defeat in his tone. They had a way forward, it seemed. Marriage and work with Lords Benedict and Castlereagh. Except he didn’t seem to want it.

“You must be honest with me, Nate. As you have never been before.” She stood up and felt the world wobble a bit as she did. The truth serum was taking effect. She welcomed the experience even as she crossed the room to look in Nate’s eyes. “What are you afraid of?”