Page 51 of The Love Potion
The business of becoming a mistress was much more than understanding the physical mechanics. She needed lodging, a servant, and basic income. Many demi-reps were flashy, beautiful ladies who accompanied their patrons to all sorts of scandalous activities. Others were quiet, discreet women who served at the man’s beck and call and never showed their faces in public. She guessed that the duke would prefer the latter as would many of his friends, but she had no way of knowing that for sure. And though he was likely an accomplished negotiator, she was completely untried in these waters.
She prayed that he would help her in these matters. And if a tiny part of her hoped that he would make her his, then that was only natural. After all, she was agonizingly attracted to him and believed that he returned her affection. Who better to start her on this path?
All these thoughts swirled in her head while the miles sped by. The conversation was general and therefore didn’t require much attention. Especially since Zoe was making a determined effort to ferret out His Grace’s interests. They learned that the duke enjoyed chess, though he was by no means a master. He had a fondness for tales about naval battles, but he was nota historian. And though he did like dogs, his favorite pet had passed away some years ago and he’d never had the heart to get another.
In short, they learned that His Grace was a humble man not at all interested in pushing his passions on anyone else or claiming that he was anything more than a hobbyist. Kynthea respected him all the more for it. Zoe appeared frustrated that she could not ooh and ahh over something, as if she, too, were fascinated by his amusements.
Having failed in that, Zoe tried a different tack.
“Did you know that our fathers were great friends, Your Grace?”
The duke frowned. “Truly? I had no idea.” Indeed, from his tone, he appeared skeptical.
“Oh yes. My father has often said how his holiday at your Newbury estate was the happiest time of his life.”
Now the duke’s brows rose to fill his expression with doubt. “Truly? How so?”
Undaunted, Zoe continued, as if his posture weren’t calling her a liar. “Well, it was your grandfather, of course, who had the true racing passion. Your father enjoyed it—”
The duke cut her off. “My father enjoyed riding, but it wasn’t his happiest pastime.”
“Quite right, Your Grace. Your father loved billiards. Apparently, my father spent his days talking horses with your grandfather, and his evenings playing billiards with your father. He was blissfully happy from dawn through dusk, and nothing has ever matched that joy for him. He called it, living a true gentleman’s life.”
Kynthea thought there was more to being a gentleman than riding and billiards. So, apparently, did His Grace, though his expression softened into wistful.
“It was the ideal boy’s life, I suppose. I must confess I spent a great many days in exactly the same manner, at least until my father died and I had to learn the running of things.”
“Did you know that my father and your grandfather created a plan for your stable? In fact, they corresponded regularly until his death a year later.”
It was said that the duke’s grandfather passed from grief after his son’s death. Whether from grief or lung ailment, his death left Ras without a male guide before he turned twelve. That was much too young to assume the reins of a dukedom.
Meanwhile, Zoe pulled a stack of letters from her reticule. “I have some of them here. My father had them sent up from our country home. He’d kept them all these years.”
“The devil, you say,” Ras muttered as he leaned forward. His expression was eager as Zoe passed him the letters. “Have you read them?”
“Oh yes. I went over every one with my father yesterday. They’re mostly about your breeding stock. Horses that are now, unfortunately, long gone. There is one letter of interest,” she said as she pulled the top one off the pile. “I gather my father had proposed a daring expansion idea. He’d outlined it in great detail. As you can see…” She unfolded the missive. “Your grandfather thought it very interesting. I don’t know if he was indulging a young man—”
“My grandfather did not indulge anyone,” the duke said dryly. “If he praised the idea, then he meant it.” He lifted the letter to the light and began reading. Zoe remained quiet as he did, but Kynthea knew the girl was bursting with excitement. Finally, she’d gotten the duke’s attention on his horses. That was exactly the topic Zoe most desired.
After the duke finished reading, he dropped the hand holding the letter to his knee and looked straight at Zoe. “Do youhave any idea what those plans were? The one that your father suggested?”
That appeared to be exactly the question Zoe had been waiting for. The girl brightened as if she were born to walk the boards. She blushed, smiled coyly, then pulled another folded sheet of foolscap from her reticule.
“I asked my father that exact same thing!” she said. “He didn’t recall specifically. It was so long ago, you understand, but this is the base of it as he explained it to me.”
She unfolded the paper, which Kynthea now saw was actually three pages plus the latest two racing sheets.
“If you would look here, Your Grace, I’ve taken the liberty of writing my father’s idea down and inserting the name of current bloodlines. The horses have all changed from your grandfather’s time, but Papa and I are both racing enthusiasts. You’ll see here from the latest two racing sheets what we’re thinking.” She passed those over to the duke who did appear interested in what Zoe had to say.
So interested, in fact, that they passed the rest of the journey in discussion of Zoe’s thoughts about his horses. The ideas for an expansion, how much money it would cost, and the signs of what would make her plans successful. Despite the way Zoe kept referring to her father and the duke’s grandfather, Kynthea knew that this was Zoe’s plan. Her father had likely helped, but the real brains behind this multi-year expansion came from Zoe herself.
The duke was fascinated. He listened attentively, looked at where she pointed, asked relevant questions, and even began to detail things his stablemaster had told him. Zoe agreed for the most part. Horse racing had some universally accepted thoughts. But when she disagreed, she didn’t pull any punches.
“He’s not wrong,” Zoe said, referring to the duke’s stablemaster. “He’s just old. He thinks it should be done that way because it’s always been done that way.”
“You disagree.”
“I think…”
