Page 7 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

She wanted a husband and children. She hoped for some activity that was more fulfilling than making sure her mama’s tea was at the right temperature.

And she was desperate for more intellectual stimulation than being told that warts could be cured by washing one’s feet under the light of the full moon.

But in order to do that, she had to find a husband. And one that was not the engaged Duke of Harle!

“This is my first meeting with Miss Petrelli,” she said. “I’ll do what I can, but some women are not amenable to talking about the way they caught a fiancé.”

“Good,” Fletcher said. “And one more thing. If Ras isn’t there, I’ll endeavor to leave you women alone. Privacy should encourage intimacy. Perhaps I’ll visit Lord Nathanial. He’s staying there, recuperating from his latest drunken orgy.”

Rebecca jolted. She had years of practice learning to control her expression, but the sound of Nate’s name on Fletcher’s lips never failed to pull a cringing reaction out of her.

He knew that, of course, so his gaze was steady on her face, watching her every reaction.

But try as she might, she couldn’t suppress her next words.

“He’s there?” He’d be within several feet of her.

So close she could speak to him if she wanted.

If Fletcher didn’t interfere. And if… “Did you say drunken orgy?” She wasn’t even supposed to know what that meant, but she did.

She was well-read in many things that were not typical fare for young women.

“Yes, apparently it devolved into a brawl and…” Fletcher shrugged. “Well, the details don’t matter. He’ll tell you he was accosted by thieves or some such thing. It’s a convenient lie.”

She swallowed. She didn’t want to know more about the man she’d once thought was the love of her life. Except that was a lie. She did want to know. Desperately.

“Why is he there?” To the place they were going to. Right now!

“Ras has a soft heart for old friends despite how very hideously they’ve grown up. I mean to tell him so. Associating with that roue will only destroy him.”

Rebecca frowned. “I doubt the duke has to worry about losing status.”

Her brother sighed. “ Everyone worries about losing status. And every man has a soft spot. You must be careful not to tread heavily upon it. The duke’s blindness is in his love for that cretin, so you must not speak ill of him.”

“Of Lord Nathanial?” How her throat closed up when she spoke his name. Even now, ten years later, too many emotions crowded her whenever she thought of him. She’d best keep the man firmly shoved into the back corner of her mind.

“Yes. Him.” The word was heavy with hatred. “Don’t say a word against him to the duke, but you can encourage Miss Petrelli to voice whatever objections she may have. And be sure to tell me her confidences. I’ll give Ras the information in a way that he will hear. Do you understand?”

Rebecca nodded, though she kept her lips buttoned. She understood what he wanted. He didn’t understand that she had no intention of betraying anyone’s confidences, much less the future Duchess of Harle’s.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to hold her tongue for long. Their carriage arrived at the ducal residence. Fletcher took a moment to inspect her from head to toe, nod his satisfaction at her appearance, and then smile reassuringly at her.

“This is a delicate situation with a great deal of potential,” he whispered before the door opened. “I am relying upon you.”

Rebecca descended from the carriage first, her gaze already jumping to the house.

Miss Petrelli must have been watching for them because the butler had already swung open the door and the lady was just stepping out.

That gave Rebecca a few moments to assess the woman as she began the walk up the path.

Brown hair, sweet smile, and a composed way of moving. That made sense, given the amount of gossip surrounding her. Rebecca knew from experience that gossip tended to dampen any person’s enthusiasm. But she also seemed genuinely warm as she held out her hands in greeting.

“Lady Rebecca, I’m so pleased you could visit.”

“It is my pleasure,” Rebecca answered. “Though, I must be honest, your invitation surprised me.”

“I shall be happy to explain…” Miss Petrelli’s voice faded as her gaze went over Rebecca’s shoulder to where Fletcher descended from the carriage. All warmth bled from her expression as her chin lifted, and her jaw tightened.

Clearly oblivious to the reaction, her brother gave an expansive greeting. “Miss Petrelli!” he exclaimed as he walked up the path. “What a pleasure to see you this day.”

“Lord Fletcher.” Miss Petrelli’s tone was icy cold. “I am surprised to see you here for a lady’s tea.”

“But I am my sister’s escort—”

“You are not welcome, my lord,” she interrupted. “Why you think I would welcome a man who wrote such horrible lies about me is beyond my comprehension. I was prepared to extend friendship to your sister, but you, sir—”

“Lies!” Fletcher cried. “Whatever have I done to offend you? Miss Petrelli, we barely know one another.”

Rebecca looked between the two. And then, to her horror, she saw people slow down as they promenaded on this exclusive street. Good God, they were creating a scene!

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she offered. “We can discuss things more comfortably—”

“I name you Mr. Pickleherring,” Miss Petrilli said firmly. “And your column was vicious and filled with lies.”

Fletcher gaped at the woman. It was a good expression, but Fletcher was her brother. She’d seen him in every phase of deception, and she knew that this reaction wasn’t genuine. Indeed, she was sure it was for their audience’s benefit. Especially when he began to chuckle.

“Miss Petrelli, you are confused. Whyever would I stoop to writing a gossip column?”

It was a good question, but Miss Petrelli wasn’t swayed. Her arms were crossed now, and she appeared on the verge of saying something else. Except at that moment, the duke appeared a step behind his fiancée.

“You admitted to it, Fletch,” he said, his voice firm.

Fletcher threw up his hands. “Have you gone mad, Ras? Good God, whatever would I gain by tarnishing Miss Petrilli’s reputation? I don’t even know her!” His voice softened. “We have been friends for so long, Ras. Honestly, I don’t understand this animosity.”

Becca looked at her brother, seeing in him the picture of a wounded friend. He was so earnest in his statement that she did indeed begin to question the duke’s sanity.

“My brother doesn’t write gossip columns,” she said quietly. “He has expressed disdain for those who read such things.” Indeed, he thought the novels she read to be pablum for weak minds.

“Quite correct,” Fletcher agreed. Then he stepped forward to bow low before Miss Petrelli. “My dear, pray forgive me for any sleight I may have perpetrated upon your person. I most sincerely apologize. I would never want to hurt you or Ras. You must believe me.”

“I don’t,” Miss Petrelli said, her words thankfully muted. But her tone and her face were very clear.

“Then why invite me to tea?” Rebecca pressed. All of this seemed very strange. “Especially if you believe such a terrible thing of my brother?”

“Not to mention,” her brother added, “that you’ve obviously gotten the better of Mr. Pickleherring. You are engaged, are you not? To a duke.”

Miss Petrelli said nothing. Indeed, what could she say in the face of Fletcher sounding so reasonable? In the end, she turned to her fiancé. “It is your house, Ras. What do you want?”

The man sighed audibly. “I think Fletch and I will go for a stroll. Pray enjoy your ladies’ tea.”

There was a long silent exchange between the engaged couple. A quiet message that only the two understood. But in the end, Miss Petrelli stepped backward into the house.

“Pray come in, Lady Rebecca,” she said. “I have just purchased a new tea that I am anxious to try. I wonder what you will think of it.” It was a polite compromise, and Rebecca accepted the gesture.

“I look forward to tasting it,” she said as she followed the woman inside.

Even better, she was quietly pleased that her brother remained outside.

Distantly, she noted the duke’s tightly controlled expression and her brother’s gleeful smile, and she had to admit, Fletcher had handled the situation masterfully.

She had no idea what the disagreement was, but she knew enough about society to see that her brother had come out the winner in this instance.

Everyone would assume now that it had been Miss Petrelli’s mistake.

After all, the duke was walking about in public with Fletcher, so clearly the problem wasn’t between the men.

Which naturally led her to be a bit suspicious of the woman.

Miss Petrelli was either more na?ve than Rebecca about the workings of society—something that was hard to imagine—or she was indeed simple-minded.

Imagine accusing Fletcher of writing a gossip column!

Whatever would he gain by it? And whatever would he say?

It was clear to Rebecca from their earlier conversation that he knew very little about Miss Petrelli.

The whole situation was very bizarre. But maybe a few private moments with the lady would make everything clear. Especially as she had every intention of forcing an explanation.