Page 22 of The Love Potion
He looked startled by the question, his gaze darting around the small shop. There was no one there except the shopgirl and Zoe’s maid. Both were whispering together over their tea, so no one else could hear. But it did make her wonder what drove this man.
“I have one, yes, that I hope to make come true one day. But we were speaking of you—”
“My passion is for horse racing. I know every stable in England. I study the racing sheets the way most girls discuss fashion plates. I have spent my entire life around horses and have more knowledge than even the duke’s stablemaster. Horse racing, my lord. That is my passion.”
“And so you are marrying Ras for his stable?”
“Yes! And because he is old, so he will be too tired to keep up with me. Most men can’t, you know. Not even my brother.”
“Ah.”
“And because old men die sooner. The things I could do with control of his estate! I would make his stable the envy of the world!”
He stared at her with a new kind of respect in his eyes. “I can see you have thought this through.”
“I have thought of little else since my father first spoke of seeing me settled five years ago. He said that as soon as I was old enough, I should look for a husband.”
“But five years ago? You were eleven!”
“Exactly. I know the disposition of every racing horse in England and the marital status of every owner. The duke is my best option.” And lest he feel left out, she smiled as warmly as possible at him. “Your family had good stock once upon a time. Then your father sold it all to the duke, at a very good price, too. They’re the basis of my attraction to his horses. They don’t necessarily have the best bones for the job, but your horses were smart.”
He blinked at her. “That happened when you were a small child. My father sold them to Ras’s father because we couldn’t keep up with the expense.”
She nodded. She knew. Running a stable was enormously costly and Lord Nate’s grandfather had been a gambler and a spendthrift. At least, that was the rumor. If one needed to economize, horses would be the first thing to sell.
“During that time,” she explained, “the former duke ran a spectacular stable. But the current duke has no interest in it. I should like to restore it to its former glory.” She grinned, and her heart lifted for a moment as she imagined what she would do. “So you see,” she finally said, “why it must be the duke and why it must be now.”
“I do see,” he said, his tone grave.
“So you will help me?” She pressed the sheet of foolscap into his hand. “How would the duke answer these questions?”
He nodded as he took her elbow. “Let us go inside Madame Ilie’s private chamber. We will bring her in and discuss the details of your love potion.”
“We will?” she asked, her heart leaping with joy. “Thank you!”
“It won’t work,” he began, but she cut him off.
“It will work, my lord. Why else would you be here just when I most needed the help?”
Chapter Eight
Ras was waitingin a café, his tea cold and his temper hot. He sat in a strategic location so he could see when Nate left the newspaper office. Then he watched with narrowed eyes as the man took his time crossing the street before oh-so-casually wandering into the café.
“Well?” Ras said by way of greeting, even as he gestured for a plate of tea sandwiches.
“Nothing useful. The publisher swears that he printed exactly what I wrote.”
“And you believe him?”
Nate shrugged as he sat down. “I think he is so busy he doesn’t remember.”
“So he didn’t add it himself?”
“Definitely not.”
Ras felt his teeth clench. “If you didn’t write it—”
“I didn’t.”
