Taste of Temptation (22 page)
Read Taste of Temptation Online
Authors: Cheryl Holt
Tags: #Romance - Historical, #American Light Romantic Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Love stories, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #American Historical Fiction, #Regency novels, #Regency fiction
She was retrieving a basket of empty bottles, and Phillip combining the ingredients, when they heard voices down the road. Shortly, Jane and Helen Hamilton strolled around the bend.
“Look who’s here,” Phillip murmured.
“Just who I was hoping to meet,” Clarinda said.
Phillip scowled. “Why?”
“I like them.” She shrugged, perplexed by her interest.
“I swear, you’ve tipped off your rocker.”
“I’m trying to be friendly. Where’s the harm?”
“When we saw them down by the harbor in London, didn’t you give Jane a potion?”
“Yes.”
“We must find out if love has blossomed,” Phillip said. “I’ll waylay Helen, while you chat with Jane. Perhaps she’ll buy something.”
With Phillip, it was always about the money. He thrived on the verbal sparring, gleaning an enormous boost from persuading women to purchase items they didn’t need. She’d never liked his mercenary tendencies, and though she possessed many of them, she strove valiantly not to let them show.
“Bonjour, bonjour,” Phillip gushed, his fake French accent firmly in place as he hurried down the lane to greet them.
Clarinda waved at Jane, and Jane waved back, relief crossing her face, leaving Clarinda with the distinct impression that Jane was very glad to see her.
“Mr. Dubois?” Helen’s smile was wide. “What are you doing here?”
“We always travel near Hastings Manor this time of year,” he blithely lied. “It’s part of our regular route.” He was guiding her around the wagon. “I’m mixing a batch of my famous Woman’s Daily Remedy. Would you like to try a sample?”
“I might, but I’d have to ...”
Their words trailed off, and Jane rushed over to Clarinda. She stepped close, their heads together like a pair of conspirators, which Clarinda supposed they were.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Jane said. “What are you
really
doing?”
really
doing?”
“I was worried about you,” Clarinda admitted, whispering.
“You came all this way just to check?”
“Yes,” Clarinda fibbed, hating that her knack for fabrication was so ingrained. “Our tonics are very powerful. I had to be certain you applied yours correctly. How is Lord Hastings?”
“I gave it to him that very same night, and for a while, it seemed to work.”
“He fell in love with you?” Clarinda carefully shielded her incredulity.
“Madly in love, but then, he started avoiding me to spend time with his cousin.”
“The swine!”
“I was afraid that the potion had waned or that he didn’t swallow enough of it. Do you have some more?”
“Of course.”
Clarinda grabbed two vials, and Jane stuck them in her purse.
“Administer a double dose,” Clarinda counseled, “to be sure.”
“I will. But what about his cousin? The family expects them to marry, and I’ve been so anxious about it.”
Clarinda added another pouch to Jane’s burgeoning reticule.
“Slip this powder to her.”
“What will it do?”
“It will make blotches break out all over her face.”
Jane appeared gleefully horrified. “Will they be permanent?”
“No, but after Lord Hastings sees them, they will have a dampening effect. He’ll never gaze at her in a fond manner again.”
“That’s just the sort of thing I need. Thank you, Miss Dubois. Thank you so much!”
In a burst of youthful exuberance, Jane hugged Clarinda, and Clarinda hugged her back, charmed by the endearing gesture.
“You may call me Clarinda if you like.”
“I will,” Jane said, but she didn’t offer a reciprocal familiarity, and though Clarinda tried not to, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed.
She knew who Jane’s father was—the disreputable Harry Hamilton—and she supposedly knew who her own was—Duke of Clarendon. Clarinda’s blood was much bluer than Jane Hamilton’s, but Jane was wearing a pretty dress and residing in the manor, so circumstances set them apart in ways Clarinda couldn’t counter.
“Will you be attending the village dance on Friday?” Clarinda inquired.
“Yes. Will you be there, too?”
“Yes. I’ll want to hear how well the potions are working.”
“I can’t wait to tell you everything,” Jane replied, and she went to find her sister.
“WHAT is it,
cherie?”
Phillip asked of Helen Hamilton. “When I last spoke with you, you were so happy. Now you are very triste, very sad.”
cherie?”
Phillip asked of Helen Hamilton. “When I last spoke with you, you were so happy. Now you are very triste, very sad.”
“Nonsense,” Miss Hamilton responded. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“You cannot lie to me,
mon amie.
I see it in your eyes. What has happened?”
mon amie.
I see it in your eyes. What has happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
He moved nearer to encourage confidences.
“Is it your dashing Captain Odell?”
“He’s not my Captain Odell.”
“You lie to me again, mademoiselle. After you drank my tonic, he was completely smitten. You told me so, yourself.”
“I did not. I was merely curious about what seemed to be his ... ah ... heightened interest.”
He studied her, thinking what a shame it was that such a beauty could be so worn down by amour. People always thought Phillip had psychic abilities, but actually he was simply a good judge of human nature.
Women fell in love too easily and when that love was unrequited, their misery was plain for anyone who bothered to look.
“And now?” he queried. “What is your opinion of his affection?”
“I was mistaken. He has no interest in me at all.”
“How can that be? He can’t have forsaken you. My Spinster’s Cure is too strong.”
“I don’t believe in your potions, Mr. Dubois.”
“Just because you don’t believe, doesn’t mean they don’t work.”
She sighed, then glanced over at her sister. Evidently she felt that Jane was too close, so she took his arm and led him down the lane. They strolled along, like a pair of sweethearts, until they’d rounded the bend and couldn’t see the wagon. She drew him to a halt.
“I have been a bit disconcerted,” she confessed.
“Of course you have been.”
“I don’t know very much about men, Mr. Dubois.”
“No female does. We’re peculiar creatures.”
“Might I ask you a hypothetical question?”
“Certainement,
Miss Hamilton. I am at your service.”
Miss Hamilton. I am at your service.”
She gazed at him, her expression so touchingly perplexed. “Let’s say there was a man—a very handsome, very dynamic man.”
“Someone like Captain Odell, perhaps?”
“Yes, someone just like him. Let’s also say that he started to fancy a particular woman.”
Phillip’s mind was spinning as he speculated over what horrid thing Odell had done to her. The rogue was a sailor. What had she expected?
She had to be insane, involving herself with him. Then again, she was Odell’s employee and living under his roof. Given her position as governess, it would be difficult to deflect his attention without risking her job.
Phillip’s temper boiled. He loved women and hated to see them abused.
“This man,” Phillip said. “In what sort of mischief do you imagine he might engage?”
“He might have requested ... well ... an illicit liaison.” Hurriedly, she added, “The woman knows right from wrong, though, so she refused.”
“Let me guess: He’s angry at being rebuffed?”
“Yes, and he’s forgotten all about her and moved on to another.”
All pretense of a hypothetical was abandoned. Her shoulders sagged, and she appeared young and lost. It was all he could do to keep from hugging her.
“Who is he courting?”
“Lord Hastings’s cousin Mrs. Seymour. She’s resided with the family for years, and she took care of the earl and his sister before Captain Odell arrived.”
“He’s smitten by this Mrs. Seymour?”
“They’re together constantly, like two peas in a pod.”
Phillip had never met Odell, but he could vividly picture the horse’s ass: rich, powerful, arrogant. Odell’s pride would never accept rejection from a lowly servant such as Miss Hamilton. No doubt, he was dabbling with Mrs. Seymour merely to make Miss Hamilton jealous, to grind salt in her wounds.
Odell was a knave!
“Ah,
cherie
, I’m sorry,” he murmured.
cherie
, I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She stared at the ground. “I’m a fool, aren’t I?”
“He’s a charming devil, and he helped your sisters. How could you not love him?”
“I’m so stupid.”
He patted her shoulder, wishing he could offer useful solace, but he didn’t have much to suggest but for a few worthless tonics.
“In romantic affairs,” he gently said, “rational people are known to behave irrationally. Be glad you declined his advance. Think where you’d be now if you hadn’t.”
“I am glad.” She peered up at him, her torment clear. “I did the right thing, didn’t I? In refusing him? Tell me I did the right thing.”
“Yes, you did. You’re no match for such a worldly fellow, and he was cruel to have pressured you. Only heartbreak would have resulted.”
“Heartbreak resulted anyway.”
She chuckled miserably, and he chuckled, too. He slipped her hand into his arm, guiding her back toward the wagon. As they walked, carriage wheels sounded behind them, and they turned to see a sporty gig approaching, a man and woman snuggled on the high, narrow seat.
“Oh no,” Miss Hamilton muttered.
“Who is it?”
“Captain Odell and Mrs. Seymour—out for their afternoon drive. They’ve been taking one every day.”
Odell was a handsome bloke, dark-haired and fashionably attired, his broad chest filling out his expensive coat. Phillip detested him on sight.
Mrs. Seymour—with a plain face, mousy hair, and unflattering gown—was no beauty, but she understood the brilliant catch she’d made. The side of her body was wedged to his, and she chatted in his ear, preening like the cat that had found the cream.
Odell saw Miss Hamilton, and he tugged on the reins, the horse lurching to a halt.
“Fancy meeting you here, Miss Hamilton.” His demeanor was cold and haughty.
“Captain Odell.” She gave the most fleeting curtsy in history.
Odell insolently assessed Phillip, his curiosity as to Phillip’s identity blatant and offensive.
“Why are you ambling down the lane?” he barked at Miss Hamilton. “It’s the middle of the day. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I have Wednesday afternoon off.”
“Do you? I’d forgotten.”
Mrs. Seymour simpered. “You’re too lenient with the servants, Captain. An afternoon off? In midweek? Next she’ll be wanting paid holidays.”
At being reminded of her status as servant, Miss Hamilton bristled, but she wasn’t cowed by the pair. Her hot, furious gaze locked on Odell, and his cheeks reddened.
Apparently, the obnoxious cad was capable of embarrassment.
“Perhaps I should reconsider her schedule,” Odell mused.
“Perhaps you should,” Seymour agreed. “She already has Sunday morning off to attend church. How much time does a governess need to herself anyway?”
“Who is your companion?” Odell asked Miss Hamilton. “Have you snagged yourself a beau? I’m not normally one to pry, but in light of your obligations to my ward, it’s not appropriate for you to fraternize with bachelors.”
Odell’s expression was just as furious and just as pained as Miss Hamilton’s, and it occurred to Phillip that they were pitifully in love, with Odell as enamored of Miss Hamilton as she was of him.
“I’m Philippe Dubois.” Phillip laid on thick his French accent, knowing it was a mannerism Odell would loathe.
“J‘ai beaucoup d’affection pour elle.”
“J‘ai beaucoup d’affection pour elle.”
“Speak English, you damn Frenchie,” Odell snapped.
“As you wish, monsieur. I have been hoping to win Miss Hamilton’s affection, but she too much enjoys her duties at the manor. Thus, to my infinite regret, she has declined a deeper attachment.”
The remark had Odell so fit to be tied that he nearly leapt out of the carriage to pummel Phillip.
“Will you be staying with us, Miss Hamilton?” Odell snidely seethed. “Or are you running off with your French
suitor?”
suitor?”
“I’ll be staying, Captain. I’m happy at my post.”
“We’ll be going on then,” Odell told her. “I don’t suppose that it would be too much to ask that you return to the house at once?”
“I’ll rush back immediately. I apologize for causing you any dismay.”
Miss Hamilton’s tone was sweet and deferential, but there was no concealing the impertinence rippling beneath the words.
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