Page 34 of The Truth Serum
His duty to his country demanded that he continue with his plans. There was no reason to jeopardize a smooth transfer of information just because Becca might be in trouble.
And yet, damn it! She and the baron were going out the French doors into the back gardens. Out where anything might happen.
He turned to follow but then saw Madame Joguet’s brows narrow. Oh hell. The lady wasn’t his contact, per se, but he couldn’t get access to the maid without a friendship with Madame. At least not easily. Which meant his path was clear.
Country came first. Even before Becca. He turned his back on the French doors and headed up the dais.
Chapter Ten
Rebecca saw Natearrive. She wasn’t surprised that he arrived late and then stood at the doorway, like a king surveying his kingdom. It wasn’t that he appeared confident or even dominant. He wasn’t that kind of king. Instead, he held himself as if fondly amused by everything he saw. Everyone here was his subject whom he loved and had pledged his life to protect. So perhaps not a king, but a knight errant, aware of all he risked and for whom.
It tugged at her romantic heart. She’d never been impressed by power, and she daily endured the petty exercise of it while she served her mother and brothers. So she had special fondness for the souls who worked, who served, and who did so out of love not obligation.
If only Nate served something other than his own amusement. If that were true, then she’d tumble straight back into love with him. But hewasworking for his own amusement, and so she had to communicate clearly that she was uninterested in furthering their acquaintance.
She gave him the cut direct, softening it by using the movements of the dance to turn away from him. Mentally, she gave her back to what he represented: privilege without responsibility. She knew he didn’t have the wealth that her family did, but he’d been educated. His family had some money and even more connections. He could have become anything he wanted—a barrister, a politician in the House of Commons,a scholar. Any of the many respectable professions available to younger sons.
Instead of using his brain to do something worthwhile, he’d become a social fribble, a lazy, self-indulgent waste. So she cut him—socially—but inside, she ached. It hurt to see him so small.
Then she pushed him out of her mind. She was on a husband hunt and addressed herself to that task. She smiled, she danced, and she tried to learn more about her partners than their taste in attire and favorite hobby. And she waited for one to fire her imagination, if not her heart.
The dancing ended without anyone sparking her interest. So when the baron made his way to her, she happily took his arm. She could tell, if others could not, that he wasn’t steady on his feet. The truth serum was affecting him, and she was interested to see what answers he would give to her questions.
“I am ready for your inquisition!” the baron rasped into her ear.
She smiled and allowed him to escort her. There were too many people around to begin her inquisition, so she remained silent as they passed through the ballroom to the back garden. She was startled as he took deep breaths, not just outside in the fetid London air, but inside as they passed through the various perfumes and body odors that occurred during any crush.
“Do you smell that?” he asked. “So many scents. So strong!” His head kept swiveling as he picked up one scent after another. Then they stepped outside, and he flinched. “Coal dust. We need a good wind to blow it all way. Plus rain. The rain will clear it up.”
“For a time,” she agreed, though wishing for a strong spring storm wasn’t a typical thought. “Sir, now that we’re outside—”
“The wind,” he said as he lifted his face to the sky. “Where is the wind?” He looked at her. “Let me have your fan.”
He didn’t wait for her to offer it to him but took hold of the delicate wood and pulled it up toward his face. Unfortunately, it was still attached to her wrist. He didn’t seem to care as he flicked it open to wave in front of his face. So she was left standing there with her arm extended while people looked at them in amusement.
“Balls, that feels good,” he said as he closed his eyes and stretched his chin into the wind he created. “Aren’t you feeling the heat?”
Obviously, this was a side effect of the serum, so she smiled and gestured to a back corner of the garden. “I believe there is a better breeze over there. Shall we—ouch!”
The baron was jerking her arm this way and that, trying to free the fan from her wrist.
“Blasted thing,” he grumbled.
“If you would let me—”
Crack!
To her shock, he broke the fan, then cursed it before throwing it aside. Then he stripped off his gloves, tossing them aside as well while she tugged at the ribbon on her wrist. It took her a moment to pull it off because he’d jerked the ribbon so tight, but she finally accomplished it. And when she looked up, he’d wandered away from her, deeper into the shadows.
“Do you see the lights here? Such colors? It’s like they’re dancing.” He was waving his hands in front of his face. “Do you think they’re fairies?”
“Baron?” she asked. “Perhaps you ought to sit down.”
“Sit down?” He turned to her, and true to her fear, he wobbled on his feet. But then he steadied himself with a hand on the nearest tree trunk, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Do you feel that?” he asked as he ran his hand up and down the bark. “That’s incredible! Come, come!”
He grabbed her wrist and bodily dragged her forward. She started to resist, but he insisted, and she had no desire to create a larger scene. They had already attracted the attention of another strolling pair. More would wander near soon. Better to simply give in and let him press her hand to the tree trunk, then rub it up and down the bark.
It was a London plane tree with smooth and coarse patches, depending on where the bark had flaked off. He seemed particularly fascinated by a nub, running her fingers over and around the peak.
