Page 89 of The Truth Serum
She bit her lip. Clearly he was in the mood to expound. Her best strategy was to let him. Perhaps lecturing her would put him in a better frame of mind.
“Very well, tell me about them. I shall endeavor to listen with an open mind.”
And so he did. He spoke at length about the dubious virtues of both men, where they had first met Fletcher, and the extent of their impressive tailoring. After twenty minutes of this, she began to believe the only reason Fletcher liked them was because of the condition of their boots and the cut of their clothing.
They had other attributes as well. Their ancestry was blue, their pockets full, and both seemed to be especially malleable to Fletcher’s ideas. And if that didn’t put her off them, nothing else could.
Eventually she got tired of the discourse. “Fletcher,” she interrupted, “what is all this about? And why did you really fire Missy? She wasn’t impertinent.” Indeed, the woman was fawning to the extreme.
“She was to me,” he countered. “Now tell me what happened last night.”
She arched her brows, taking a drink of tea to delay her answer. “Well,” she finally said, “there isn’t much to say. I was having such an excellent time with Miss Petrelli that when she offered to continue our evening, I happily agreed. Honestly,Fletcher, I’ve needed some female companionship. It was nothing more than two girls getting to know one another.”
“And yet you left early from the comedy. The one you expressly said you wanted to see.”
She chuckled. “You caught my fib. What I wanted was to spend more time with Miss Petrelli.” She flashed him a mischievous look. “And it worked! I’m to be her bridesmaid, so our family shall be further entwined with the duke’s household. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Do not think to mollify me with your ridiculous conclusions. I told you to get close to the duke.”
She sighed. “There is only so much I can do if the man is besotted with his fiancée.” She took another long pull of the tea. “And really, so much can be learned from women’s talk, don’t you think?”
She was trying to do exactly what he thought: mollify him by showing him what other advantages she could offer. Women’s talk, however, did not appear to interest him.
“If you lack for women’s chatter, spend more time with Mama.”
“You know what I mean, Fletcher. Mama has her cronies, and I need mine.”
“Then I shall draw up a list of women who are appropriate companions to you.”
“Ack,” she cried, startled that such a sound came from her mouth. “Don’t bother. I can make my own friends.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched her, his expression growing more intense. “And yet your discernment is sorely lacking.”
She bristled at that. She always bristled at that, but this time she chose to speak. “Fletcher, you’re my brother and I love you, but really, it’s time to retire that accusation. I’m seven and twenty now. I can make my own friends without my brother telling me how to do it.”
Far from being annoyed, his expression cleared, and he slowly leaned closer to her. Part of her tightened at his proximity. He’d never liked being so close to her or anyone. And yet, here he was leaning forward as if to sniff her.
“Fletcher, what are you doing?”
“Rebecca,” he said slowly, “how do you feel?”
“Like I am done with this conversation. Really, I don’t understand what you want from me. I am here to find a husband. I am done with catering to everyone else. It is time I established my own household, my own family.”
“And yet, you will always be part of ours.”
That was true. But… “Are you sniffing me?”
He was, but at her words, he drew back. Then he pressed her abandoned teacup into her hands. “You must drink up. You said you were parched.”
She pressed it back on him. “Well, I’m not now.”
He shook his head, his expression growing gleeful. “I think you are. You said you were, don’t you remember? Come come, you were parched. Was that a lie?”
“Yuh…uh—” She cut off the word ‘yes’ with a truly awful gag. Lord, her head was getting fuzzy. “I think I shall go now, Fletcher. The late night is getting the better of me. Perhaps a lie-down—”
“Finish the drink!” Fletcher commanded and she jolted as she stared at him.
“No.” Then she looked down at the cup, remembering the strange taste. Had he dosed her? “What did you do?”
