Page 77 of The Love Potion
Kynthea’s aunt was dumbfounded. As was Kynthea. But when she tried to ask His Grace for more details, he kissed her hand and apologized for having to leave quickly as he had urgent matters to attend.
Then he was gone.
If Kynthea thought to get more information from Zoe, she was sorely mistaken. Since the earl was visibly tired from the discussion, Zoe assisted him in returning to bed. They could be heard discussing horse breeding for hours after that. And no one—not even Kynthea—could discover the reason for the girl’s unabated jubilance thereafter.
Zoe was happy when she dressed for the evening’s party. She even giggled the next day when her father announced that he would retire to the country, returning only for Zoe’s presentation at court. And she was blissfully irreverent when Kynthea asked if something momentous had occurred to keep her in such a fine mood.
Her answer? “I’m a mature woman now. And if my father finally sees that I’m old enough to make my own choices, then why shouldn’t I be happy?”
That explained absolutely nothing, but Zoe could not be persuaded to say more. Truthfully, Kynthea had not thought the girl capable of such secrecy, but apparently Zoe had found a solution to the challenges in her life. And the only solution that fit, as far as Kynthea could see, was that Zoe and the duke had come to an arrangement.
As much as she didn’t want to think that the duke was arranging for a wife in the same twenty-four hours that he had taken her as a paramour, the evidence was mounting. He spent a great deal of time with both Zoe and her father. He foundtime for her, of course. They always danced at whatever ball Zoe attended.
They were walking together in Hyde Park when she learned that Mr. Pickleherring had written an entire column about how Lord Nathaniel had been beaten up by unknown persons and was now recuperating in the duke’s residence. It was an uncharacteristically vicious column, in that it included all sorts of salacious speculation as to why the man had been attacked. And it cast aspersions on a man who was supposed to be at death’s door. It was a distinctly nasty turn for the column to take, and Kynthea was not at all prone to giving any credence to it.
Neither was the duke.
“It’s almost as if it were written by an entirely different person,” he said dryly.
“Exactly!” she said, glad that he had put voice to what she’d been struggling to understand.
“Since Pickleherring is obviously a pseudonym, the columnist could change from one writer to another, and we’d never know.”
“Do you think that’s what happened?”
“I do,” he said firmly. “It’s unfortunate that Nate became the target of this new writer, but I’ve spoken to the paper and to a wide variety of my friends about it.”
She turned to him. “But how can you stop a gossip column?”
He shrugged. “Obviously, I can’t. Especially since readership has increased thanks to his recent viciousness. But I’ve pushed Prinny to express his dismay at such cruelty. That will have some effect in moderating the situation.”
He spoke as if talking to the Prince Regent were akin to stopping by a haberdashery to order a new set of buttons. “Do you often have conversations with Prinny?”
He cast her an amused glance. “Do not be star-struck by royalty. It is important to remember at the center of it all, they are human beings just like you and me.”
Humans who had the power to create laws, steer the government, and make or break simple people like her. And yet, standing beside Ras, she felt as safe as it was possible to be. If Prinny had suddenly appeared and began to publicly damn her, she believed she could withstand it. Assuming, of course, that Ras stood by her side.
But rather than focus on whether that was good or foolhardy of her, she changed the topic.
“How is Lord Nathaniel? Will we see him in society again soon?”
“He is recovering. It was mostly his feet that were damaged, and so he is resting until they heal.”
“But what happened?
“Footpads. Stole his money and his boots. He had to walk a very long distance to get to his home.”
She glanced at him, feeling the stiffness in his body as he answered. There was more to the situation there, but she wasn’t sure she should push to know more. He must have realized her hesitation and so flashed her an awkward smile.
“I think there’s more to the situation, but Nate hasn’t confided in me yet. All I can do is make sure he heals…and keep an eye on—” His brows narrowed. “Do you know Lord Fletcher?”
She frowned. “I think I danced with him at the beginning of the Season, but I haven’t seen him since. I don’t remember him as being anything unusual.”
“You will let me know if he comes about again? And you will not be alone with him.” That last was as much a command as it was a request.
“Is he dangerous?”
“I don’t know. I believe he is the new Mr. Pickleherring, and he has a particular interest in hurting Nate.”
