No Other Duke But You--A Playful Brides Novel

by Valerie Bowman

  Madame Rosa’s eyes widened. They were extraordinary eyes, jade green with black rings around them. Eyes that had seen a great many things. “Ah, yes, the Elixir of Cupid.”

  Delilah caught her breath. Of course it was called the Elixir of Cupid. What else could it possibly be called? She bit her lip to keep from smiling. She did not want this fascinating woman to think she didn’t take her work seriously. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Does it … really work?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. No doubt it was rude to show skepticism for the woman’s product.

  “It works,” Madame Rosa said simply, nodding. “It works.”

  That was enough of an endorsement for Delilah. “I’d like to purchase a bottle of it, please.” She grasped her reticule, ready to hand over the money and take off with the elixir.

  “Patience.” Madame Rosa leaned back in her chair and smiled. Her grin revealed a set of uneven, darkened teeth, some of which were missing. “I cannot sell it to ye without ensuring ye understand the rules first.”

  A skitter of apprehension traced its way along Delilah’s spine, as if a cool breeze had blown through the shop. Danielle must have felt it too because she rubbed her arms up and down.

  “The rules?” Delilah asked, her voice cracking and uneven. She didn’t want to listen to rules. She wanted to pay for the perfume and leave. Immediately.

  Madame Rosa watched her down the length of her nose. “Yes. It’s a powerful elixir, and I cannot sell it to just anyone. Ye must agree to abide by the rules or ye cannot have it.”

  “Very well.” Delilah hadn’t expected there to be rules involved, but now that she was here, she was willing to do whatever it took to earn the perfume. “What are the rules?” Too bad she’d never been good at following them. But she needn’t tell Madame Rosa that. And she would do her best to abide by these.

  Madame Rosa’s bushy dark eyebrows descended over her captivating eyes. “First, ye can only use it during a night when the moon is full.”

  Delilah swallowed. That seemed … not impossible. She nodded.

  “Second, ye must be the only person to use it. Ye cannot give it to another.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Delilah said. Who else would believe her? Let alone want to borrow the elixir? Besides, she intended to keep it a secret, so no one would ask. Of course, that ruled out the possibility of her using it for future matchmaking assignments, but beggars should not be choosers. She wasn’t about to disagree with Madame Rosa’s rules.

  “Third…” Madame Rosa paused. She leaned forward and peered at Delilah. “Ye must only use it once.”

  Delilah frowned. “Once? You mean if it doesn’t work, I cannot try again?” That didn’t seem like a particularly useful feature. Delilah was known to make mistakes. What if she missed Branville’s eyes, for instance, and splashed it on his chin instead?

  Madame Rosa’s eyes narrowed to slits. “It will work, lass. It will work. But after ye’ve used it once, it’s rendered impotent.”

  Apparently, the elixir called for perfection and precision. Normally, that would concern Delilah, but she would just have to ensure she didn’t make a mistake with a magic potion called the Elixir of Cupid. Besides, she only needed to use it once. Once would be enough.

  “Very well, I agree to all the rules.” Delilah fumbled with her reticule. “How much does it cost?”

  “Do ye have any other questions, lass?” Madame Rosa continued, ignoring her question.

  Delilah’s hands stilled on her reticule, and she thought for a moment. “Um, yes, I do. Will the person whose eyes are sprinkled fall in love with the first person they see? I mean … will I have to be the first person he sees in the morning? You see, that’s how it works in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I can’t help but think how much more difficult that will make the entire affair.”

  The old woman chuckled. “No, lass, that’s only in the bard’s play. The real Cupid’s Elixir works differently. The person whose eyes are sprinkled will fall immediately in love with the person who sprinkled it, and no other, the next time he sees her.”

  Delilah nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. This was real. At least it felt quite real at the moment. She would truly have the power at her disposal to make the Duke of Branville, or any man, fall madly in love with her.

  “Very well, lass.” Madame Rosa pulled a tiny heart-shaped vial out of her voluminous robes. The vial glowed a bright pink color.

  A tiny gasp of joy escaped Delilah’s lips. Oh, it had to be right. It was pink!

  Madame Rosa pressed the vial into Delilah’s palm and closed her fingers around it. “Cupid’s Elixir is yours.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “I’ll have you know I’ve just come from the doctor, and he has declared me completely healthy. Fit as a fiddle, he said.” Thomas sat next to Delilah in his new curricle. They were riding in the park.

  Delilah was barely paying attention. Her thoughts were focused on the vial of elixir tucked inside her reticule. She’d had the stuff for nearly a day now, and she refused to let it out of her possession. It was silly, she knew. There was no guarantee that it would work. She may well have wasted her money.

  As they’d left the shop yesterday with the elixir, Danielle had laughed and said, “What’s the worst that could happen?” That had set Delilah’s imagination into awful flights of fancy. She was keenly aware of the fact that all sorts of bad things could happen if she didn’t do what she was told and follow the rules. But she would follow the rules. She would. It was true that catastrophes tended to trail her about, but not this time. Not when it was so important. She would keep the elixir, use it once on Branville, make no mistakes, and if they were meant to fall in love, it would work. She’d convinced herself of it. She’d even discovered that a full moon was predicted for the night of her birthday, when they’d all be asleep under the same roof at Lucy’s estate. It was fate. It had to be. That was the last night she had left.

  “Are you all right?” Thomas asked from the seat beside her. “You seem preoccupied. You aren’t feeling faint after your head injury, are you? There are many trees on this route. I wouldn’t want you to encounter another of the attack variety.”

  “Shut up,” Delilah said primly. “And by the by, I cannot believe you made a jest about my needing to fend off attack trees in front of Branville at rehearsal last night.”

  Thomas frowned. “He didn’t even laugh. I told you he wasn’t funny.”

  Delilah fingered her reticule. She was trying to decide whether she should tell Thomas about the elixir. She’d promised Danielle to keep it a secret, but she’d absolutely burst if she didn’t tell someone. Besides, she never kept secrets from Thomas. Surely Danielle wouldn’t begrudge her having one confidant. Thomas was the perfect person to tell. He’d think it was madness. He was much more likely to scoff at it than ask to borrow it. Of course, he would relentlessly mock her, but she might need some mocking. Perhaps he would convince her to pour out the contents of the little vial and stop being ridiculous. Perhaps then this constant worry in her throat would go away.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I … have something.”

  She opened one eye in time to see Thomas turn to her, a worried look on his face. “You mean like a fever?”

  She expelled a half laugh. “No. No. Nothing like that. It’s in my reticule.”

  Thomas glanced warily at the little pink satin bag that sat on the seat between them. “Is it alive? It’s not another bird with a broken wing, is it?”

  Delilah rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not alive. Why would I keep an animal in my reticule?”

  Thomas shrugged and grinned. He turned his attention back to the road in front of them. “I’ve known you to do more outlandish things than that.”

  The man had a point, but she wasn’t about to admit it at the moment. Instead, she gathered up her reticule and opened it. She pulled out the little vial and cradled it in her palm, presenting it to Thomas.


  He glanced at it looking entirely unimpressed. “What is that?”

  “It’s … perfume.” How exactly could she explain this ridiculousness?

  “What does it smell like?” he asked.

  Delilah cocked her head to the side. “I don’t know, actually.”

  His brow furrowed. “You bought perfume without smelling it?”

  Delilah stuck her nose in the air. “The smell is not why I purchased it.” She made a mental note to sniff it later.

  Thomas frowned. “Are you certain you’re feeling well? I’m not convinced you don’t have a fever. Or a head injury.”

  She scowled at him. “It’s … special perfume. An elixir, actually.”

  “A what?” Skepticism lined his features.

  “Elixir,” she repeated, doing her best to keep her voice perfectly calm and even. The more normal she pretended this was, the less mocking he might be. “It’s called Cupid’s Elixir.”

  Thomas took a long, deep breath. Then he rubbed one eye with his gloved palm. “Please tell me you didn’t pay much for it.”

  She bit her lip and looked at him sidewise. “I’m afraid I did.”

  He took another breath, but kept his eyes on path ahead of them. “Delilah, I’ve told you, there are people out there who’ll spin any tall tale to separate you from your money and—”

  Delilah lifted her chin. “This wasn’t a vendor on the street, Thomas. Danielle took me to see her.”

  “Her who?” His profile remained hard with suspicion.

  Delilah stared straight ahead at the backs of the Thomas’s perfectly matched horses. “A Roma lady. Madame Rosa.”

  Thomas closed his eyes briefly. He shook out the reins. “I can only imagine what she told you this elixir can do.”

  Now, Delilah was beginning to enjoy this. “Care to guess?”

  He slowly shook his head. “No, actually. I don’t care to guess.”

  She carefully tucked the little vial back into her reticule. “Very well, I’ll tell you. You sprinkle it on the eyes of your true love while he sleeps, and the next time he sees you after he wakes, he’ll realize he’s in love with you.”

  Thomas closed his eyes for a longer period this time. Then he opened them, sighed, and shot her a dubious glance. “Really? A love potion?”

  “That’s right,” Delilah replied with a firm nod. If he was going to turn mocking, she just might get defensive.

  “I suppose you plan to use it on the poor, unsuspecting Duke of Branville.”

  “I don’t want to use it on the Duke of Branville,” she replied, tugging the strings of her reticule closed. “I’d much prefer our courtship to progress the normal way. But I will use it if I must.”

  Thomas shook out the reins again. “I’d no idea the lengths you’d go to in order to secure a match. What does Lucy say about this?”

  Delilah bit her lip again. “I, er, haven’t told Lucy.”

  Thomas frowned. “What? Why not?”

  “Because Lucy prides herself on matchmaking the old-fashioned way. No doubt she’d scoff at this sort of thing. And I promised Cousin Danielle I wouldn’t tell, which means you must keep the secret too.”

  He shook his head. “Feeling guilty, eh?”

  Yes, that was it. Delilah hadn’t been able to put her feelings into words yet, but guilt was the exact emotion she was experiencing. Once again, Thomas knew her best. Merely having the elixir in her possession made her feel as if she were cheating. She wasn’t convinced her plan was fair to Branville.

  “I only intend to use it if I have to.” She repeated the words she’d mentally told herself a hundred times in the last day to Thomas.

  “That makes it all right?”

  “No, but … oh, I’m at my wits’ end. I’ve done everything I can think of to attract Branville’s attention, and none of it appears to be working.”

  Thomas barked a laugh. “I’d say your wits left around the time you thought buying a love potion from a Roma woman was a good idea. Do you really want a man whom you have to drug to fall in love with you?”

  Tears sprang to Delilah’s eyes. When he put it like that, it sounded so … awful. “I haven’t even decided if I’m going to use it yet,” she replied primly, “but please promise me you won’t say anything.”

  Thomas glanced at her and arched a brow. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. No one would believe me. In the meantime, I am going to hope you make the right decision and pour it out.”

  She straightened her shoulders as if trying to shrug off the guilt. It didn’t work. “I may pour it out.”

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “When did you plan to use this magic elixir, at any rate?”

  She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her sweating brow. “During the house party, of course. When else would I find Branville sleeping?”

  “Ah, yes, the performance at Claringdon’s estate. What’s your plan? To sneak into the duke’s bedchamber in the middle of the night?”

  Delilah gulped. Thomas knew her too well. “That’s precisely my plan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “My lady?”

  Delilah tore her gaze from the vial of elixir that sat on her dressing table to find Amandine blinking at her from the door to her bedchamber, an impish smile on her face. Delilah had been warring with her guilt all afternoon. Ever since her ride in the park yesterday with Thomas, she’d told herself a hundred times to pour out the elixir. And yet. There it sat. Sparkling and pink in its heart-shaped vial. She hadn’t told Amandine about it. She hadn’t told anyone else. After Thomas’s reaction, she doubted she’d be tempted to tell anyone else ever again.

  She grabbed the vial and set it carefully in the dressing table drawer. “Yes?” she called to Amandine.

  “I just came from downstairs, and it seems you have a visitor.” The smile remained firmly in place on the maid’s lips.

  “Who?” Delilah suspected it was Lucy or Cousin Daphne. But she’d already seen Lucy earlier today, and Cousin Daphne usually called on Thursdays.

  Amandine’s eyes sparkled, and her smile widened. “The Duke of Branville.”

  “What?” Delilah nearly fell from her stool. If Amandine had just told her the king was waiting downstairs, she couldn’t have been more surprised.

  She wanted to jump up, rush out the door, and scurry down the steps immediately, but Lucy’s voice sounded in her ear. You must keep a man waiting, dear. You mustn’t seem overly eager to see him.

  Lucy had a point. Besides, if Delilah rushed down to him, no doubt she’d trip and rip his shirt again. Or perhaps something worse. Like his breeches. Not to mention, waiting would increase the chances that her mother would discover he was visiting.

  “Does Mère know he’s here?” Delilah asked, a sly smile popping to her lips.

  “But of course.” Amandine waggled her eyebrows. “I may have gone out of my way to stop in the breakfast room and tell her.”

  “You didn’t!” Delilah exclaimed with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

  Amandine smoothed a hand over the front of her uniform. “Of course I did. It gave me great pleasure to see the look on her face too.”

  “Surprise?” Delilah asked.

  “Shock!” Amandine replied in her heavy French accent. “I thought she might have a tiny apoplectic fit. Or at least I hoped she would.”

  The maid trotted over to touch up Delilah’s hair and apply rouge to her cheeks, while Delilah forced herself to count to one hundred. She was wearing a light pink day dress that tightened at the waist with embroidered roses on the hem and matching slippers. It was a simple gown, but it would have to do. There was no time to change. When Amandine declared herself finished, Delilah stood and turned in a circle. “How do I look?”

  The maid clasped her hands together next to her cheek. “Très enchanté, mademoiselle.”

  “Wish me luck,” Delilah whispered, as she forced herself to walk slowly from the room. An image of Thomas popped unexpectedly to her mi
nd. She always said, Wish me luck, to Thomas.

  As she warned herself to take the stairs down to the foyer one at a time, she forced thoughts of him from her mind. Amandine had recently told her London’s gossip mills were also spouting the rumor that Thomas was courting Lady Emmaline. Of course, Delilah knew that wasn’t true. Thomas’s involvement with Emmaline had been entirely Lucy’s creation. But the rumor bothered Delilah nonetheless. Thomas had admitted he was in love with someone. What if that someone was Lady Emmaline? What if the courtship wasn’t a sham after all? Perhaps it had begun a sham, but then had turned quite real.

  Oh, she’d think about Thomas another time. At the moment, she had another duke to worry about. The one waiting for her in the gold salon.

  She entered the room and cleared her throat to catch his attention. The Duke of Branville stood near the window staring out at the road in front of the house. He wore impeccably tailored clothing as usual, black breeches, a blue overcoat, gray waistcoat, white shirtfront and cravat. He looked dashing and handsome, the epitome of what she’d always pictured a suitor would look like standing in the gold salon to visit her. A lump formed in her throat.

  He turned with a wide smile on his handsome face. “Lady Delilah. Thank you for taking my call.”

  “But of course, Your Grace. Thank you for your visit.”

  “The mark on your forehead appears to be healing nicely,” he said next.

  She absently rubbed at the remnants of the scab. Then she snatched her hand away. “It’s good to see you, Your Grace,” she said in as stately a voice as she could muster. She’d already decided to stay far away from him. She was less likely to ruin any of his clothing that way. The scab had been a timely reminder.

  Branville frowned. “Are you quite all right, my lady?”

  “Yes, perfectly fine. Why?” Her voice remained high and prim, while her hands remained serenely folded in front of her.

  “I don’t know. You seem … unlike your usual self.”

  He probably meant calm. Good. Her usual self was too loud and too quick and too nervous and too everything. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the settee. She lowered herself into a chair a comfortable distance away and concentrated on keeping her back ramrod straight and her eyes fixed on a spot above his head. Her back hurt and the fake smile she had plastered to her face was also painful. How did ladies like Emmaline Rochester manage to look this way all the time? Apparently, this is what it took to appear composed, to play the part of a well-behaved lady, one who would make a suitable future duchess. But it was uncomfortable, not to mention difficult.