Powder of Love (I) Page 9

  Now why on earth had she admitted that out loud? She suddenly realized the power she might be handing over to him. “Yes, but”—she spoke briskly—“it doesn’t matter. I mean, that’s not important.”

  “Since we are making admissions…I had thought…” He hesitated. “When we were in the library, when you spoke, or moved, or even looked at me, it was as if your body called to me. I’d thought it was my inflamed imagination. If I’d known—”

  Murphy came into the room, carrying a basket of sewing.

  What had he been about to say? If he’d known her response was real, he would have kissed her?

  She couldn’t ask, not with Murphy there. “Our errand. We should go visit the one man not on the list. The young one,” Rosalie said. Her heart thumped as if she’d run a race—or been caught in flagrante. “Murphy, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave the basket here and fetch your bonnet. We need to go out.”

  “Bad idea,” he said suddenly.

  “Why do you say that?”

  He tapped his lower lip with his forefinger. She watched, fascinated. His lip would be warm—and then she paid attention to his words.

  “I don’t suppose I could convince you to trust my judgment?”

  “Forgive me, but no.”

  His face finally relaxed into a real smile. “Of course not.”

  “I barely know you, so please understand that I don’t—It’s not that I don’t think you’re worthy of trust.”

  “I can’t imagine you allowing anyone else taking over in this business.”

  How dare he insinuate she was a power-hungry, distrustful female, even if he was correct?

  He tilted his head as he examined her, as if she were an interesting but confusing work of art. “Now it’s your turn to look—what was the word?—thunderous,” he said. “Does it help if I tell you I think you’re correct to not allow anyone else to take charge of the powder?”

  “Oh,” she said. He did tend to take the wind out of her sails just as she puffed up like a galleon under full rigging, as her father used to say.

  He loosely crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you trust yourself?”

  “I’m not…” She tried to pick words that weren’t insulting. “I’m not used to being taken seriously, particularly by males, unless I insist. So I often insist.”

  “Sounds difficult.”

  “It could be worse. At least I’m in a position where I won’t be punished for behaving badly.”

  He didn’t smile. “What do you mean?”

  “I am my own mistress. I can lose my place in society, but I will never go hungry or lose my freedom because I am a shrew.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  She was going to argue, to tell him about the women who’d lost their homes for being too outspoken, but he went on. “You’re not a shrew. And here is your maid. Shall we go? I have actually hired a carriage today, so no need for you to summon your coachman.”

  Reed was disturbed by the look of pleased surprise in her face when he told her she wasn’t a shrew. Did she really think his opinion of her so low? Or perhaps she thought she was commonly considered in such a light. Outspoken females of a certain age were tolerated with some amusement, but a young woman with strong opinions would suffer.

  He’d wondered how someone as attractive and wealthy as Miss Ambermere had stayed single, and after listening to her and Clermont and several others at the hotel who knew her, he suspected she had remained so on purpose.

  Clermont had said she hadn’t been well trained by her father. Clermont liked naughty women, but he didn’t think much of the ones who didn’t acknowledge his charm or the superiority of the male sex in general.

  Miss Ambermere had ignored his seeking hands and innuendos.

  As they’d walked away from her house that morning after Reed had found him in Miss Ambermere’s parlor, Clermont had remarked, “That gel’s a bitch. Ha. She even growls. Growls and snaps.”

  Reed hadn’t retorted that the growling was because she was properly afraid, not naturally vicious. Instead he had said, “She’s not a bitch.” But as soon as he’d heard the angry warmth in his own voice, Reed knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

  And then his heart sank even lower when he’d seen the gleam in Clermont’s eyes. Reed understood he’d fallen for the bait without even noticing the danger.

  “Oho, so that’s the way of it,” Clermont had said.

  Reed had kept his voice calm. “I respect her, nothing more.”

  “That’s why you’re helping her find a scientist? I think I know who I want to watch you plowing. Yes, it would do the two of you a great deal of good. Be taken down a peg, both of you.”

  The powder had worn off, but in its wake, Reed remained violently aware of her. The way she walked, the way she looked around the street, bright-eyed and curious as she stood near him, waiting for him to help her into the open barouche he’d hired. He held his breath as he touched her, allowed her to rest her hand on his forearm as she climbed up.

  “Nice pair,” the footman said approvingly as he stepped away, and it took Reed a split second to understand he referred to the horses.

  Reed gathered up the reins and prepared to navigate the streets of New York north to Harlem to meet again with Dr. Leonard, an intelligent, well-spoken, and good-looking doctor. Those last two were why he didn’t want to take her there.

  He didn’t want handsome men talking to Miss Ambermere or making her laugh.

  Maybe the powder hadn’t worn off, because Gideon Reed had never suffered a moment of jealousy in his life. Part of the problem, really. Two years ago, when Lily had wanted to spend so much time with her cousin, Reed hadn’t said a word because he hadn’t suspected a thing. He’d been an idiot.

  He glanced at the woman next to him, dressed in an expensive, glossy gown with another flimsy, funny hat perched on her hair. The blue of the hat and the gown made her pink cheeks glow, which gave her a ridiculously healthy appearance.

  She drew him as if he was light as air, and her every inhalation pulled him to her. Now that was a bit of nonsense. The residue of powder talking. But the thought of kissing her was taking up too much of his brain, even when he wasn’t near her, and perhaps the only way to wrestle back control was to at last put his mouth on hers and slide his tongue into her mouth and—

  “Do watch out,” she yelped and clutched his arm. “You’re going to hit the side of that farrier’s wagon.”

  “Damn it.” He pulled on the reins, glared at the horses, and then down at her, only because he couldn’t glare at himself.

  She let go of his arm. “Alas, you’re scowling again. Was I not supposed to stop you from causing an accident? Or perhaps ‘damn it’ means ‘excuse my poor driving, Miss Ambermere’?”

  Her sweet tone and the curse coming from her well-bred mouth made him laugh. “Exactly what it means. And my foul language. Excuse that as well.”

  She smiled, and he noticed the small crinkle that wasn’t quite a dimple on her cheek.

  “Tell me about the man we’re going to visit.”

  “The doctor is also an amateur chemist,” he said. “He’s considered slightly eccentric but bright by the people I’ve interviewed.”

  He also had a reputation as a ladies’ man, and having met him once, Reed understood why.

  With almost black hair that fell across his forehead and a slender figure like Clermont’s, Dr. Leonard looked more like a stage actor than a scientist.

  He wasn’t entirely soigné when he met them at his door. Certainly his fingers were dyed blue and yellow, and the jacket he wore had some flecks of blue as well.

  The look he gave Miss Ambermere as they shook hands was eager and hungry.

  “Did you bring it?” he asked and turned that eagerness to Reed.

  “Not yet. Miss Ambermere, may I introduce Dr. Leonard? Doctor, Miss Ambermere is the mysterious owner of the substance.”

  “This is only a very brief visit, Doctor. I left my m
aid to wait in the carriage because I wanted as few witnesses as possible.” She stood straight, obviously intentionally donning her most no-nonsense manner. “I wished to meet you first, Dr. Leonard, and discuss what you planned to do with the…chemical.”

  “So you’re the lucky person to get the extract.” The doctor turned his full attention back to her. “I’ve read only a few articles about the glands of the extinct worm-breached toad. And from the description Mr., ah, Reed here gave me, this might be the last batch. He said the outer box had traces of a vaguely purplish, heavy yet easily dispersed dust.”

  Miss Ambermere’s eyes lit with mischief as she turned to Reed. “I’m impressed.” she said. “You barely had time to note these things.”

  Reed didn’t have time to think of a suitable response when Dr. Leonard spoke again. “If this is the real glandular powder. Not actual glands, you see. Some sort of poison sacs. But good heavens, it’s an amazing find. The real thing, in that it has a very strong effect. Most aphrodisiacs are apparently placebos, but that powder will create true biological changes. It does more than simply fool the person who imbibes it.” The scientist rubbed his long blue- and yellow-tinted fingers. “But please, I shouldn’t keep you standing here in the hall. Come in. Would you like something to, um…?” He waved a hand vaguely, and she supposed he was acting as a host and offering food or drink.

  He led them into a crowded sitting room. Papers littered most of the surfaces. Dr. Leonard gathered up the stacks on the sofa and tossed them onto the floor near a stand holding a large, empty birdcage.

  Reed started toward the chair Leonard indicated, but whirled around when Miss Ambermere gave a quiet shriek.

  “I was startled,” she explained as she sank onto the couch. She pointed at a shelf. “I thought it was stuffed.”

  A gray bird held out a claw, tilted its head, and peered at her. “Bad girl,” it remarked.

  “That’s Raha.” Dr Leonard held an arm up, and the bird stepped on. “She’s an African gray. A parrot.” The bird stepped sideways up his arm and pushed its head against his throat. He deposited the bird onto the cage, where it sidled in a circle, bobbed up and down, and watched Reed with one unearthly, round eye.

  Dr. Leonard sat down near Miss Ambermere and smiled. “What can I do to convince you to allow me to examine this strange substance of yours?”

  She returned his smile with such warmth that her eyes sparkled. Reed pulled out his notebook and leafed through it, wondering if it was too late to find another name. Perhaps traveling to Boston would be a better plan. For one thing, it would be farther from Clermont’s reach. He’d undertake the trip the moment he was released from his duties with Clermont.

  “The fact that you’re actually curious and not dismissive is a strong argument in your favor.” Miss Ambermere twined her fingers together. “But I should ask, what would you do with the substance?”

  “Lock it up.”

  His prompt answer earned a full smile from her. She shifted toward him on the sofa. “I hope you’d find a way to destroy it.”

  “I’m not certain that’s the best plan. It is such a rare substance, and it might have some, ah, healing properties.” He must have seen something in her fading smile. “I don’t mean to exploit it for commercial purposes. Never.”

  “Gracious. You think people would buy it? I mean, other than someone with…strange intentions?” She twisted her fingers. Nervous or embarrassed, Reed wondered which. Both perhaps, and it was worth noting the gesture—always good to know the keys to a woman who had a remarkable ability to hide emotion when she wished.

  Dr. Leonard wasn’t so good at hiding his responses. His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped. “Heavens, yes. It has extraordinary commercial value. That’s why I’m so pleased you are even considering allowing me to handle it, rather than a larger company.”

  She tilted her head. “What would any legitimate purchaser wish to do with it?”

  The doctor looked over at Reed, who raised his eyebrows and gave a small smile. Go on.

  The doctor shifted. Cleared his throat. Scratched his arm. Crossed his arms. “Ah. Well. It’s difficult to say.”

  She raised a hand. “I can see it’s embarrassing for you, Dr. Leonard. I hadn’t thought about it, but I can guess. I imagine it would be made into a medication that a husband might wish to administer to a shy wife?”

  “Exactly.” Leonard beamed. “I must say, it’s refreshing to meet a female who’s not squeamish about the facts of biology. Elegant, stylish female, I mean. There are any number of bookish, scholarly women hereabouts. As likely to prattle on about inelegant subjects as any male.” Clever idiot, Reed thought. Insult the rest of womankind to impress her.

  Her hands in her lap twisted again. “But we are agreed that there will be no commercial interests in this matter. You will study the chemistry of the substance, discover its makeup, advance your understanding for scientific purposes. And it will eventually be destroyed. Almost all of it, except perhaps the very smallest, least dangerous amount. That is a condition of my release of the powder into anyone’s possession. If you could have seen what it does, you’d understand.” She didn’t look at Reed, who folded his arms over his chest.

  Dr. Leonard lost his warm smile and didn’t answer. He hadn’t seemed fond of women who acted as tough and shrewd as males; perhaps he also wasn’t fond of women who weren’t afraid of wielding power. Before he met Rosalie, Reed hadn’t imagined he’d admire a woman like that. As each day passed, he found more to admire in her.

  “If it’s a matter of money, I can pay you for your time,” she said. “I’m not sure who sponsors your work—”

  “No, no, there’s no need. I should be paying you for the chance to examine something I’ve only heard about in rumors. And yes”—he heaved a sigh—“I agree to your conditions.”

  “We will weigh the substance in your laboratory,” she said. “And draw up a contract.”

  Dr. Leonard scowled, obviously offended. “Yes, yes, if you insist.”

  Reed hoped Miss Ambermere would ask Dr. Leonard why he was so peevish, but she chose not to be blunt for once. She smiled brightly, rose to her feet, and held out her hand.

  The doctor stood and bowed over her hand, formal, with just the right hint of grace. He seemed to have forgotten his pique and smiled into her eyes. “I look forward to our…partnership.” He held her hand a little longer than was necessary and gave it a squeeze before letting it go.

  Reed wondered if the man was even worse than Clermont.

  Dr. Leonard turned to Reed. “You will act as her agent in this matter again, Mr. Reed? I look forward to hearing from you…soon? I hope?”

  “Yes,” Reed said. “If Miss Ambermere should require help, I’ll lend it.”

  They walked out together.

  “Now why would I require help?”

  “Do you really want to drive through the streets of New York carrying that box with only a maid with you?” He couldn’t imagine what would happen, but figured he’d play on her imagination.

  She laughed. “I’m going fewer than three miles’ distance. But all right. If it would make you feel better.”

  “Yes, it would.” And it meant he could spend more time in her company.

  They pulled up to her house in silence.

  “You have a half hour before you meet Mr. Clermont,” she said. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

  “Yes.” He tied up the horses, who were barely interested in trotting. Miss Ambermere’s footman probably had made the remark about the pair just to be polite. This was not a spirited team who’d get into trouble.

  She led him into the large parlor rather than the library. He liked the room with its fresh yellow walls and the landscapes.

  The maid seemed to have disappeared. He walked to the mantel and pointed to the watercolor of a huge, sprawling building. “Your father’s estate?”

  “Yes, and then my cousin’s.” She shrugged. “I think Johnny’s heir is a distant cousi
n, but I’m not sure who was next in line.”

  She walked over and stood close to him and pointed at an old bent tree at the corner. “That was always my favorite place to read. Right on that upper branch.”

  “Poor Miss Ambermere.”

  She raised her brows. “Why do you say that?”

  “After your father died, you lost your home.”

  “I left gladly and before his death. I loved it there, but I am happier here.” She straightened her back.

  “Bad memories?”

  She shook her head.

  He moved a little closer. Just to see if he could pick up that scent of hers—lemon, flowers, and a light hint of cinnamon or some other spice.

  “Miss Ambermere,” he started. How could he ask her what she’d meant when she’d admitted her attraction? The conversation had been intriguing, and he wanted to know more. But then her fragrance, her closeness, befuddled him again. He licked his lips and realized her gaze was on his mouth. Her own lips were slightly parted, and there was an invitation in those clear, wide eyes. Far be it for him to be rude to his hostess. He rested his hand on her shoulder. She gave a tiny start, yet didn’t speak or move. He tightened his hand to feel the shape of her slender form under the slick material. He bent his head and very slowly moved to her. She still didn’t shift away, so he brushed his lips over hers, a light touch, but unmistakably, a kiss.

  A quick exhalation of breath against his cheek. She was startled—or perhaps aroused.

  He should speak, say something in apology, break the silence, but now she stood taller and settled her mouth against his.

  Featherlight rubbing, experimenting. She panted against his mouth, her hands moved to his shoulders, and she again pressed her lips to his, urgently now.

  He parted his lips so he could taste her better. She flinched but didn’t draw back as he teased her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

  She returned the teasing with her own tentative, flickering tongue touch, and then a twist of her body so the exploration could go deeper.

  The taste of her proved too much. He forced himself to release his grip on her.

  “I-I must beg your pardon. It’s surely the powder.”