Powder of Love (I)

by Summer Devon

  He nodded. “I think we were lucky in some ways. As far as I can tell, only twenty persons were affected, including yourself, your mother, and Miss Renshaw. Apparently the terrapin soup was not as popular as the consommé, or we managed to stop people from eating it in time.”

  He at last seemed to calm down enough to sit. Not right next to her, but not in the chair at the far end of the room. “Of the seventeen visitors, only three were, ah, single women who would suffer severe consequences should the truth be revealed. And of those three, only two might have had some, um, contact. And actually there was another young woman who hadn’t eaten the soup who also might have…”

  His voice petered out, and he cleared his throat.

  She lost her patience. “Might have lost her virtue, you mean? Allowed herself to indulge in fornication?”

  He wet his lips and gave a quick nod.

  “You speak plainly with me as a rule, Mr. Reed. Don’t stop now.”

  His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head and looked at her. “I am aware that I’m not behaving as you’re used to, Rosalie. I was afraid you’d be offended, and I supposed my standard blunt behavior might make the situation worse.”

  “I? I have nothing to be offended about.”

  “Then you truly forgive me?”

  “Forgive you?” she echoed. “Pardon?” This was not what she had expected.

  “Rosalie, how much do you remember of last night?” The question again, just as urgent, yet softer.

  She imitated one of her mother’s shrugs.

  “The library. Do you have any memory of what happened in there? Again?”

  She didn’t want to attempt a lie, so she shrugged—again.

  “You were so lovely, so enticing.” The frown deepened. “I have never in my life seen anyone—anything—as beautiful as you were, Rosalie.”

  Her mouth went dry. This was not the tone she expected.

  But the horrible frown was in place. He groaned. “I know, I’m making excuses for inexcusable behavior.”

  “You?” she started but couldn’t go on. She shifted in her chair.

  “Yes. I took advantage of a woman under the influence of a terrible drug. I took advantage of you. I’m so very sorry.”

  “But…but I thought you said it was my fault?” She tried to remember how she’d arrived at that conclusion. “You said it was all loathsome. And I think you meant me too. Yes, I’m almost certain you were angry at me.”

  “I suppose I did say something like that. I was trying to convince myself to stop touching you and perhaps stop you from looking at me like that. I wanted nothing more than to stay with you and keep you in my arms the whole night. That’s not loathing, Rosalie.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you remember what you said to me?”

  She felt the heat rise in her face. The word cock had figured into her conversation. All shivering, needful urges. Yes, she remembered.

  She gave an involuntary glance down at his trousers. When she met his gaze again, he was smiling, perhaps even smirking. “You do remember the library.” And he sounded triumphant, not angry or ashamed.

  She realized she found it very difficult to lie to him. That did not bode well for this conversation or her dignity. “I remember some of it.” She squeezed her hands tightly together to suppress her body’s response to the rush of memories. The horrendous need and a thousand powerful details. The scratch of cloth on her skin, the warmth of his supple body covering her, pressing into her.

  “What you remember is…” He cleared his throat. “But what I want to know is”—and he seemed at a loss for words—“not about the library. At the end of the night. You were angry with me. I expect you do recall that anger, because this morning you seemed to have picked up where you left off when you came into this room. Your air of ‘to what do I owe the honor, Mr. Reed.’ What I wonder is, do you recall berating me just before I left you in your bedroom?”

  She shook her head.

  He sighed. “Then I’m going to have to go out on a limb and saw it off after myself. Last night I understood why I was angry about how the powder affected you. I wanted it to be real for you. The day before…oh, that was lovely, Rosalie. When we made love, it was wonderful, do you understand? Too horribly, amazingly wonderful, that day. And it seemed as if I had offended you or it really hadn’t mattered to you. I didn’t want to know which it was, Rosalie. I didn’t understand my own thinking, but now I believe I couldn’t afford to discover you were indifferent. I think it would have destroyed me.”

  She pushed to the end of the seat, leaned forward. “Mr. Reed. Gideon. You are gibbering.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I know. You have to understand, I’m not very practiced at this…this…sort of talk.”

  “What sort of talk?”

  He glowered. “Love. Passion. That sort. I love you, Rosalie Ambermere. And I was hoping you’d recall mentioning in passing that you love me, because I’m a coward and didn’t want to be the first to speak, but here I am. Saying it. Forgive me. I love you. I am entirely in love with you. And it’s not only because you were so beautiful in the library.” He went on as if arguing with her. “I like you too. It’s not just the bloody…”

  “Chemicals,” she finished for him. “You do harp on about that. But what if it is just chemistry? What does it signify?” She sighed. “I have had the example of two parents who had no idea how to love properly, so that no one gets hurt, but I still believe love, the good sort, exists. I know it does. And I don’t give a darn if it’s caused by poison or magic or electrical currents. Its existence is enough.”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Amazing, isn’t it?” He pulled her to her feet. “Does this mean you remember saying you love me?”

  She shook her head and didn’t speak, punishing him a little.

  His back went ramrod stiff, with arms still and straight at his side. She wondered again if he’d ever served as a soldier. That was one more thing to discover. And she still had more to learn about his family.

  He spoke through stiff lips. “Rosalie. I know that our mutual attraction took us too far the other day in the library. As for last night, I take any blame for that episode. Well. If I’ve made a fool of myself and taken—”

  She couldn’t let him suffer. “I don’t remember saying the words. But yes, you idiot, I do love you. I think I have since that first day you glared at me. No, not a word about the chemicals between men and women. I fell in love at first sight, and don’t talk me out of it, Gideon.” She hadn’t thought she had a romantic bone in her body, and now she realized she’d fallen in love with the way he’d held a teacup in her parlor. Was that romance or silliness? She didn’t care. She only knew it was true.

  He let out a long sigh and pulled her into his arms. “Jesus. I’m so glad you’re more levelheaded than I am.”

  “Me? You’re the one who kept the disaster in check last night.”

  “I am tipped onto my back like a tortoise,” he said firmly. “Thrashing about, unable to get a proper grip on things. You did that to me. Knocked me onto my, ah, apex. I was a frightened and flailing idiot. It’s a jolly good thing you’re sensible and can forgive me.”

  “I don’t think there is much to forgive, you know. But if you want to apologize, go ahead. It’s traditional to kiss in these situations.”

  The light touch of mouths was too much.

  “Mr. Reed, I need you to understand that whatever we do together—you and I—you promise not to groan and despair and judge. Because even now that the effect of the powder is gone, I remember that I wanted things. I still want them.”

  “Things?” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned at her.

  “Yes.” She was breathless now and entirely her mother’s daughter. “Lewd, terrible things. Yet I think I need them, and I won’t allow anyone to tell me they are lewd and terrible.”

  “Even though they are exactly that?”

  “Yes.” She waited.

  He must have understo
od his answer mattered, for the smile was gone, and he pulled in a deep breath. “Here is what I believe, sweet Rosalie. Nothing two people do together is terrible unless it causes pain.” His smile returned. “Unwanted pain, I mean.”

  She picked up his hand and kissed his wrist. And then his bare fingers. “So you won’t mind if…”

  “No. No. We have so much to do, and this isn’t the proper… Oh. Rosalie. Rosalie.”

  She removed her mouth. “At least it’s not the library.”

  He straightened and walked away from her, toward the door. She sank to the floor and remembered quite clearly the last time they’d been on the floor. Yes. She wrapped her arms around her knees and waited.

  “I love that library,” he said huskily. And with a flick of his fingers, he locked the door. He left the key in the lock so no one would be able to see in. No doubt Beels was listening.

  When he returned, he sank down on the floor to kneel next to her. “Are you sore? I wasn’t gentle last night.”

  “Aching. But I want you.”

  “I want you too.”

  She glanced at the door he’d locked. “A half hour. No one would begrudge us.”

  “Even if they would, we’ll steal it. Mine,” he added. He reached around and began to unhook the back of her gown. He leaned close to her face so she could feel the puffs of breath on her mouth as he spoke.

  He carefully removed her corset and petticoats, then pulled back and gazed at her belly, traced the bones of her hips with a forefinger. “This line is the most lovely thing I’ve ever seen, other than this one.” He kissed her breast and touched its curve under the damp chemise.

  “What would you have done if I’d said no?”

  “Laid siege. I would stay in New York to at least fight a battle. And make sure at the very least you didn’t end up with a nincompoop.”

  “I’m not certain I can stay here. My mother talked briefly of returning to England. She would require my companionship.”

  “Splendid.”

  “But perhaps I’d rather go somewhere quiet. I’ve dreamed of Long Island.”

  “Perfect.”

  She pushed back the usual stray tendril of hair and stared at him.

  “Although I do think there might be fascinating places to explore in the West.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And then there’s the moon,” she said.

  His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps too exotic. But if you insist.”

  “Don’t you care at all?”

  He appeared to consider the question carefully and rubbed his chin. “I would need to find a job. So I think a deserted island or the moon has fewer opportunities.”

  She wondered how to phrase it so his manly pride wasn’t hurt. And then it occurred to her that he hadn’t actually offered marriage. He was not like Clermont, but perhaps he didn’t want to be married to her, only conduct a love affair. Rather like one of her mother’s intrigues, only longer lasting.

  “You’re so silent and grim,” he said. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure if you’ve proposed…”

  He gave her a hungry kiss. “Didn’t we clear this up already? No?”

  He grabbed her hand. “You’re right. I forgot that detail. Marry me, Rosalie, or else.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Yes. Marry me, or I shall lead a dreary existence without love. I would say sordid and dissipated, but I don’t think I’d manage that way of life very well.”

  “Very well. I’ll save you—and me too,” she said.

  His smile was beautiful. How could she have missed how lovely he looked when he smiled?

  “But, Gideon.” This was when she had to step carefully. “If—When we marry, you won’t need to work. I’m very wealthy, you know.”

  His grin faded. “I don’t think I want to be your dependent, and thank goodness we live in an enlightened age in which you and everything you own won’t simply fall into my hands as if you were a possession.”

  “You aren’t like my father. I’m not sure I’d mind if you laid claim to all my wealth.”

  “Yes, you would. I would too. We’re both strong-minded, Rosalie. Your stubbornness is one reason I love you.” Gideon stood, hauling her up from the floor with him. He backed into a chair and pulled her onto his lap. “I’m magnanimous and shall forgive you for being wealthy and wellborn, Rosalie. And beautiful and intelligent.”

  “Thank you, but I’m not sure I forgive you for being silly about the money and just—just use it.”

  “All right. I agree to try not to be silly and to try to spend every shilling.”

  “Every cent,” she corrected. “But England. Will we buy passage on a ship to go meet Edgar, Elizabeth, Mabel, Richard, Virginia, and Jacob?”

  His eyes widened. “You remember their names?”

  “Yes, of course.” She settled more comfortably on his lap and gave a subtle push against the hardness that was forming against her bottom. He moved and she followed, rubbing a little more.

  “Fine. We will meet my family, but I’d better rush you to a registrar. You might change your mind about marrying me once you meet them. No, once you get a letter from Elizabeth.”

  “She’ll write? To me?”

  “Oh yes. Pages and pages covered with stories about what a rotten child I was.” His fond smile made her ache for the affection he shared with his family. She suddenly grew worried.

  “Gideon, will they like me? Will Elizabeth?”

  “She’ll love you.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  “Because I love you.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  “Yes. I’ve been wrong for weeks. Love is that simple.”

  She believed him.

  Epilogue

  Her mother was willing to go on the calls, but Rosalie decided that Deirdre would do better staying at home, distributing bribes to all the servants. She was a lady, which impressed them—not to mention she was generally kind to the help. Beels was the only one who would never forgive her, but there was no need to bribe him anyway. He was the soul of discretion. Rosalie would simply find a way to slip him a large bonus soon.

  Dr. Leonard agreed to go with Rosalie and Gideon to visit the guests who’d eaten the terrapin soup. He arrived at her door wearing the look of a man who’d had a few too many drinks the night before. The subdued, quiet air was far more appropriate for their errand than his usual exuberance. He rode on horseback, and Gideon and Rosalie took a small barouche.

  They called upon each house to apologize and answer any questions. People had remarkably few. And when they arrived at Mr. Wentworth’s house, they found him entertaining Mrs. Lark.

  The twenty years’ difference didn’t seem to matter.

  While Rosalie and Gideon drank a cup of coffee with Mr. Wentworth, who was as dry and formal as ever, the doctor took the lady aside to discuss possible consequences. She had never borne any children, yet her courses had not ceased.

  As they left the house, the doctor reported that Mrs. Lark knew what she’d done and she knew with whom. “They’d come together to discuss the matter like sensible people,” he said. “Apparently neither ate very much of the soup. Just enough. She’s delighted. He’s resigned, I think. Though to what, I don’t know. I can’t imagine they’d marry.”

  They made their last call on the family in which every member had come under the influence of the soup.

  Miss Maggie’s parents had decided to go to their home on Cape May for at least a month. They seemed a little dazed but sat next to each other on the sofa, holding hands as they listened to Rosalie’s apologies. They didn’t appear angry, only afraid for their daughter, which made Rosalie feel sick with guilt.

  The doctor begged their hosts’ pardon, and he ushered Rosalie and Gideon out of the room.

  “Give me a few minutes. I’m going to make them feel better,” he whispered as he began to close the door. “A private consultation.”

  Rosalie protested in a low voice. �
��They no longer feel the effects of the soup. They said they’re fine today.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and whispered again, “I’m going to tell them I examined their daughter and her virtue is intact.”

  When Gideon and Rosalie returned to the sitting room, there was no doubt the doctor’s effort had paid off. Maggie’s parents looked relieved. Their smiles were real, and they stopped talking about fleeing the city. They even made joking reference to inviting Rosalie to dinner to taste their cook’s soup recipe.

  At last, Maggie was invited to join them all. She seemed delighted to see the doctor and blushed prettily as he bowed over her hand and murmured something in her ear.

  When they left the house, Dr. Leonard had a spring to his step.

  “I didn’t know you’d examined her last night,” Rosalie said cautiously. “I mean, I don’t recall you doing that sort of examination.”

  “I didn’t. But I think she’s intact. And I know she’s likely not impregnated. Besides, I’m going to marry that girl,” the doctor declared. “No need to worry if she’s still a virgin.”

  “What will you tell your maid?”

  He looked surprised. “Why would I have any reason to consult with her?” After saying good-bye, he swung onto the saddle and flapped the reins, urging his horse into a fast trot. He was eager to get back to his laboratory and experiment with the breathing apparatus.

  “Poor Maggie,” Reed said as the doctor rode away.

  “Poor Mary,” Rosalie replied.

  By the time they’d returned, her mother was packed and ready to leave. “You’ll let me know of your plans. A quiet wedding? Nothing for me to plan?”

  “Mother, I will never again allow you to plan another social engagement for me. Ever.”

  “I am not convinced he is the best match for you, my dear. I wanted someone more yielding so you wouldn’t face the same sort of trouble I did with your papa. And I didn’t want you to marry for love. It proves so inconvenient.”

  She stopped to look at her mother. “Did you truly marry for love?”

  Deirdre looked astonished. “No, not I. But your poor father did.”