Powder of Love (I) (13 page)

“Doctor? I, um, wonder if you’re feeling something different?” she asked. “I think you’re not wearing enough to protect you from the effects.”

His smile broadened. “Yes, I can feel the effects. Very interesting.” He stripped off the gloves and pulled off the glasses. “Peculiar. It is as if I can feel every bit of my body.” He put his hand palm down on the little box. “Mm. And now I can feel that as if it were a jolt. Have you ever touched electricity, Miss Ambermere? Felt the small, prickling sting of it?”

He rubbed his hands together and took a step toward her.

“No,” she said. “I have no desire to, though my mother swears by the treatments.”

“Does she get the stimulating treatments?” He drew in a huge lungful of air—she could see the way his nostrils flared. “Do you know what those are for, Miss Ambermere? What they accomplish for a woman who ignores her needs?”

“My mother doesn’t ignore her needs,” she said and backed away.

When he looked at her again with eyes far too bright, she glanced around for something heavy.

He rubbed his hands through his dark brown hair. “What were we talking about? Ha. Does it matter? Talk barely matters at this point. Now is the time to take action.” Another step closer. She decided to head for the door.

“Do you know the experiments should not just be about the makeup of the material?” His voice was a low croon. “We should also test if the special powder changes perceptions for not only the affected persons, but for anyone with whom they have contact. Shall we see if the electricity could pass from my body to yours? You have an inquiring mind, Miss Ambermere.”

“Yes, but not at the moment.”

“And a most suitable body.”

“Do excuse me, Doctor. I must be going.” She skittered through the door and walked rapidly to the sitting room, where she collected her hat and the hatbox. Too late to take other steps. She’d escape and then look for help.

As she turned to leave, she gasped. The man moved quickly.

He filled the doorway. “Miss Ambermere, I think in the interests of science you should kiss me. Or allow me to kiss you. I see you don’t like that idea. How about just a touch of my hand to your body? Exposed skin would be best, I believe.”

“I think perhaps you should consider going to your bedroom and locking yourself in for a while.”

He gave a broad, bright grin. “Wonderful. Yes, wonderful. Come along.”

“Alone!” she said.

The smile faltered. “Oh, I see. You don’t understand, do you? It’s what we’re made for, Miss… What is your first name? It’s our only purpose.”

“Dr. Leonard—”

“Phillip. Call me Phillip.”

“Dr. Leonard, the effects will take a couple of hours to pass. You should probably spend that time alone.” She backed away. “Wait. Since you’re already affected, maybe you should put the toad gland powder back in the box. Sir! Listen to me.” For the first time, she shrieked. “Put it all away. Now.”

He pursed his lips and seemed to sway, as if he was concentrating. “Yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t leave it lying around. Come with me, and I’ll put the boxes back together.” He tilted his head toward the laboratory. “Well? Are you coming with me?”

She probably should make sure he put the one box into the other without inhaling any more powder. “I’ll follow,” she said. “I promise.”

He walked slowly, looking over his shoulder at her and beaming. He looked at her too often, because a second later, she heard a small cry and a crash. He’d run headlong into the maid.

He laughed and put his hands on the maid’s shoulders. “Steady now, dear?”

“Yessir. I apologize, sir. I didn’t see y—
mphm
.”

He’d bent and kissed the maid, and was now pulling her roughly against him. The maid didn’t move, just stood, arms at her sides, tight in his grip, eyes open. She didn’t pull away.

“Stop,” Rosalie shouted. “Dr. Leonard, you shouldn’t be doing that. You’re not in your right mind.” But shouting didn’t seem to work this time, and now the maid’s hands were creeping around his waist. He groaned and tightened his grip.

“Dr. Leonard. You must stop.” Rosalie yanked at his arm. The maid wiggled and twisted at last.

“Excuse me. You’re right.” Breathless and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he stepped away. “I need to ask, dear, for research purposes. Was that better than usual?”

Usual? Oh Lord.

The maid turned a bright scarlet and fled.

He turned his unfocused, dreamy smile on Rosalie again. “Why don’t you try? Just for a minute?”

“No. You’re putting the boxes away. Remember? The boxes.”

“Of course. Yes. Wouldn’t want poor Mary to find those.”

“Who?”

“The maid. She didn’t answer my question. But I am certain that was better than my usual kiss. Of course, there is a routine, and that kiss broke the pattern, so it isn’t a fair comparison,” he said as he walked to the table and deftly pushed the smaller box into the larger, then slapped the lid on. His fingers stroked the outside box.

“I’m sorry?”

“Routine doesn’t equal passion, Miss Ambermere. And I don’t do anything with Mary during the day or standing up. So that would add spice, of course. But really, it was better—more passionate—than I recall. Even that first time, of course, when she came to my room because she’d heard a frightening noise.”

Add loose, careless talk to the list of symptoms. Emily certainly had indulged in that. Only, come to think of it, Mr. Reed had barely spoken. He’d fought the symptoms. Dr. Leonard clearly did not.

“Now I have taken care of your boxes, I must see if the passion extends to other females. Science,” he said cheerily as, with surprising strength, he yanked her hands up and over her head.

“No,” she said as he marched her backward and wedged her against a wall.

He pressed his still kiss-dampened mouth to hers.

She turned her face to the side. “Stop it.” He licked along her neck, slurping and sucking wetly.

Rosalie bent sideways to get away. “No, I don’t think the passion extends. I’ve answered your question. Stop.” With a huge tug, she pulled one hand from his and shoved him. He barely moved.

He held her in place with his body and scowled at her. “This is important,” he said. “This is research. I need to know. I need to feel you properly.” The playfulness was gone, and now he pushed his body against hers in a marked, rhythmic manner. She wiggled and squirmed, and as he grabbed at her hands, one of Johnny’s lessons came to mind.

She lifted her knee up sharply between his legs.

“Jesus.” He let go of her and bent over, gasping.

She swept up the box and turned to run out of the room. Someone grabbed her. “You’re stealing! You hurt him!”

“Ow! Stop! No, I didn’t,” she said. “
He
hurt
me
.” Rosalie pointed to her neck, where she was certain a red patch showed.

“Put that down,” the maid shouted, and rather than argue, Rosalie put the box on one of the workbenches lining the room.

“Sir, sir, she’s trying to steal from you.”

The doctor had recovered, though he remained slightly bent. “It’s fine, Mary. I overstepped my bounds. Shall we return to the sitting room?” He gazed happily at Rosalie, apparently a forgiving sort of a man—or perhaps the powder muted pain.

She had to remind herself that it was the powder speaking, not him. And he was her one chance to get rid of the substance. She had to work with him. “Yes, all right. But I will walk behind you and at a distance. I’m sure you understand, Doctor.”

He spoke over his shoulder again. “I will be more careful, Miss Ambermere, and make sure you enjoy the experience.”

They’d been walking through the narrow hall, but she stopped at these last words and started to back away. He moved quickly and was close to her again. How did he manage that, she wondered, and then he rested his hand on the back of her neck. His thin fingers squeezed just a little. Threatening or just a touch, she wasn’t sure, but she squirmed and tried to duck away.

The maid put her hands on her hips. “Sir. You’ll do her? She don’t want to. You got me.”

He allowed Rosalie to escape and turned to face the maid, the too-broad smile on his face. “Two at once might not be a bad idea. One could be the control, and the other might have the same exposure I had to the glandular powder. You’d be the control, my dear Mary. Miss Ambermere, since she is more reluctant, will be the subject of the test.”

He grabbed Rosalie’s wrist. He certainly seemed less interested in controlling himself than Mr. Reed had been. Under her growing panic was a twinge of annoyance at both men.

The maid shouted, “Hey, no.” The small woman came forward and tried to pry his fingers off Rosalie’s arm—as did Rosalie.

“Enough.” Rosalie tugged uselessly. The doctor was stronger than he appeared. “You must use your mind as well as your brain.” No, that made no sense. She tried again. “You must think about what you are doing. Stop. This isn’t right. Sir!”

The door crashed open.

Mr. Reed didn’t say a word as he shoved the maid and Rosalie behind him with a sweep of his arm. Reed then twisted and punched the doctor in the jaw. The doctor collapsed in the doorway of the sitting room and lay still.

“You killed him,” Mary squeaked. She knelt down next to the doctor and stroked his hair.

Mr. Reed rubbed his knuckles. “I doubt it,” he said with a touch of regret, then sounded more cheerful as he added, “unless he hit his head going down.” He turned to Rosalie and hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said briskly and fought a sudden, ridiculous urge to laugh. “He opened both boxes. And gloves and glasses weren’t enough protection.”

“Where is the stuff?”

“He closed the boxes up again, and it’s in his laboratory.”

In the sitting room office, the parrot whistled and shouted, “Bad girl,” over and over.

Mr. Reed pulled a watch from his pocket and looked at it. Why on earth would he do that? Did he have a schedule? Eleven o’clock, knock out a man? The sight made the laughter inside her threaten to bubble up again. Mr. Reed tucked away the watch and said, “We’ll fetch the box, and then let’s get going.”

Rosalie stepped over the doctor and sank onto a chair. “Give me a moment. I need to think.” And calm down, she didn’t add. “Perhaps you’re right, and we should take it away, but I’m not certain. This would happen to anyone when first opening the container. At least now he’ll know how serious the problem is. And he did seem to consider the scientific aspects of it. During the rest of…of his response.” She felt her face redden. What if Mr. Reed had plastered himself against her in that manner? She knew from the ache that held her now—an ache that spread to her very toes—that she might have protested, but not for long. She wondered if the doctor’s actions had aroused her, and decided no; it was Mr. Reed’s presence.

“He’s waking up,” Mary said and clambered to her feet. “Thank the good Lord. I’m going to go get a cold compress for him, poor Dr. Leonard. Don’t you touch him, or I’ll yell for the police, and I got a whistle for just such a thing.”

She glared at them both and left.

Mr. Reed pulled something else from his pocket.

Irons. He hoisted the doctor by the armpits, dragged him over to the desk, and locked him to it. The casual, experienced way he’d punched the doctor and now handled the shackles and the unconscious man shocked Rosalie almost more than the doctor’s behavior had.

Mr. Reed was not a gentleman.

“Do you carry those everywhere you go?” she asked.

“Only lately,” he said. “Once I understood about that powder. And sometimes, during the full moon, Clermont can become more aggressive than usual.”

Mr. Reed rose to his feet and looked down at the man who was now groaning. “So even though he attacked you, you’re willing to let him have the aphrodisiac?”

The maid returned with a basin and a towel. She gaped down at the doctor. “Hey, you can’t leave him attached to the furniture like that.” The water sloshed as she slammed down the basin and dropped to her knees next to the man again.

“Excuse us for a minute.” Rosalie grabbed the empty hatbox. “We’ll be right back.”

She was glad to hear the footsteps of Mr. Reed as he followed her down the hall to the laboratory. The box lay on the workbench, innocent-looking and small.

Chapter Five

Reed still shook with anger, but if Miss Ambermere could remain calm after what had happened to her, he could at least pretend to follow her example. He pointed at her hatbox. “Should I put it back in there?”

Miss Ambermere shrugged, a small, hopeless gesture. The calm was perhaps only because she was overwhelmed. He wanted to go to her and gather her into his arms and croon meaningless phrases until she lost the dazed look.

“I don’t know what to do. The thing is, my mother has been searching for it. And my mother…” She shrugged again, even more hopeless.

“Ah.” Now he understood why she had hurried away secretively to get rid of it, and it cheered him far too much. Nothing to do with a lack of trust in him.

“We should decide what to do and then leave here soon,” he said. “Your mother and Clermont will be waiting. I think he’s at your house.”

She nodded. “All right. I’ll take it with me. But we can’t just leave the doctor in shackles like that.”

Reed wasn’t sure that was a bad idea, but he said, “I can wait another ten minutes. That might be enough time to decide what to do about him. Clermont is so determined to find the powder, I needn’t worry that he’ll cause any other sort of trouble.”

“How would he do that?”

“You do have females working for you?”

“Yes, of course, but… Oh. Never mind.”

Reed went to the box and held his breath as he scooped it up, using his handkerchief to protect his fingers. He dumped the box and handkerchief into the hatbox.

He went to a water basin, washed his hands, then let his breath out with a whoosh. “I hope I’ll notice if my behavior changes, but I think I’m safe. Tell me if I start to behave badly.”

One side of her mouth crooked. “It would be rather horrible if you and the doctor started babbling about bodies.”

Reed heard himself growl. “Did he do a lot of talking?” He remembered some of the words he’d said to her that he’d wished he’d kept to himself.

“Yes, far more talking than you did the other day. And you seem to recall much more of what you did and said than Miss Renshaw does. So the substance obviously doesn’t have exactly the same effect on everyone. Except, well, there is that one thing.”

“Indeed.”

They went back into the room where the doctor on the floor was now struggling to sit up. The maid was trying to lift the hutch to set him free, but he was staring off into space, not paying attention to her pleas for his help.

“Miss Ambermere,” the doctor said and squinted at Reed. “Oh. Hello, Reed. Did you knock me out?”

“Yes.”

“Good thing too. I can’t remember exactly what I’d said, but I’m sure it was appalling.”

Mary stopped yanking at the desk.

Reed looked at Miss Ambermere, who apparently understood his unspoken question, because she nodded. He knelt by the doctor and unlocked the irons. “Try anything with Miss Ambermere again, and I’ll take you down. Harder this time,” he said.

The doctor teetered a little as he climbed to his feet. He touched his jaw and grimaced. Holding his head between his hands as if afraid it might fall from his neck, he went to the sofa and sank down onto it slowly.

“Interesting that the effects of the substance are nearly eliminated by unconsciousness.” He spoke in a near whisper. “I have a mild concussion, I believe. I wonder if such violent force is necessary.”

“You attacked Miss Ambermere, and—”

“I mean necessary to halt the effects of the substance.” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “To be truthful, however, I am still, ah, inflamed. I’m finding it difficult to shift my concentration away from desire, even with the damnable headache and some physical pain caused by Miss Ambermere earlier.”

Miss Ambermere moved next to Reed, and he allowed himself to brush his hand over her arm. She stepped closer. He wished he’d witnessed whatever she’d done to cause the doctor some pain.

“Will you promise to behave?” Miss Ambermere asked.

The doctor nodded, then winced again. “I understand the boundaries of propriety again. I can’t say I agree with them, but I can see them.”

Miss Ambermere eyed him with interest. “Is that an effect of the powder, do you think? Or have you always held such a bohemian attitude?”

He snorted, then in an almost singsong voice, he began to recite, “‘The Bohemian is not, like the creature of society, a victim of rules and customs; he steps over them with an easy, graceful, joyous unconsciousness, guided by the principles of good taste and feeling. Above all others, essentially, the Bohemian must not be narrow-minded.’”

“Oh no. You hit the poor man too hard,” the maid said. After a glance at Reed, she added, “Sir.”

“Don’t worry, Mary. I was merely answering the question.” The doctor carefully felt along his jaw again with tentative fingertips. “Ada Clare said that rot about Bohemians. My parents loved stories about her group, which met in some beer cellar here in the city. So yes, I suppose I have always held such attitudes.”

He gathered a cushion to his chest, closed his eyes, and leaned back on the sofa.

“He looks like you did when you were first recovering,” Miss Ambermere whispered.

“Ravaged?”

“Pale and interesting.” There was laughter in her low voice.

Reed thought the doctor looked like he had the day-after symptoms of a man who’d been on a bender.

Miss Ambermere noticed Dr. Leonard’s lap showed the obvious evidence that the powder hadn’t entirely worn off. She caught Reed watching her and blushed. “Shall we leave now that we know he’s not a threat?”

He nodded. “May I get a ride back to your house with you?”

“Certainly.”

She moved closer to the doctor, but not within arm’s reach. Smart woman. She leaned over and spoke in a stern voice, addressing the doctor. “I wonder, should I take this with me, or should I trust that you won’t open it again?”

The doctor opened his eyes. “You mean you forgive me? My dear Miss Ambermere.” He struggled to his feet and held out his hand. Reed hoped she wouldn’t take it, but she did. Silly woman.

The doctor swallowed hard and squeezed her hand.

After a minute, she made the effort to pull her gloved fingers from his grip and asked, “Shall I leave the powder with you?”

He frowned at the box and at her. He blinked a couple of times. “I want you to leave it, yes, very badly. But I think until I’ve had that safe delivered—and perhaps a breathing apparatus—you probably shouldn’t.” He collapsed on the sofa again, legs and arms spread wide like an elegant beached starfish. “I will come to you with the contract, and I will collect it the moment the safe arrives.” Another long blink, as if he was trying to fight the influence. He looked up at Reed. “Do you own a firearm?”

“No.”

“I don’t either, and I don’t know the first thing about the damned objects. You know how to use one?”

Reed nodded.

“We can’t risk that falling into any other hands.” He gave a hoarse laugh. “Can you imagine what would happen if some mugger looking for easy money found that?”

“I’ll get a weapon as soon as I can. You send word to me, and I’ll meet you at Miss Ambermere’s house.”

“Good. You have somewhere safe to store it, I hope,” Dr. Leonard said. He was definitely coming out from under the influence if he could consider matters other than Miss Ambermere’s body.

“I’ll get it safely back to her house, but after that…”

“Mr. Clermont will be waiting for us there.” She held up the hatbox gloomily. “This is rather obvious, and the smaller box isn’t much better.”

Reed allowed himself another touch on her arm. “We’ll think of something to keep it safe for a few days.” The immediate threat was over, so he shifted the shackles to an inside pocket of his jacket. They were less accessible, but the weight of them didn’t show. “Dr. Leonard, don’t forget to send word. You have my card and direction.”

Glancing back at the tableau of the doctor still sprawled on the couch with the maid hovering nearby, Reed escorted a silent Miss Ambermere out the door.

He stopped her before she went down the steps to the waiting carriage.

“Do you trust your coachman?”

She gave Reed a confused, startled look. “I suppose so. Yes.”

“Let him hold on to your box after you return home so you don’t walk inside the house carrying it. I’ll go round and meet him and find a place to store it.”

Her brows drew together—she clearly wanted to tell him she could take care of the problem herself.

Before she could say a word, he went on. “I won’t take possession of the powder. I have Clermont to worry about, after all. The hotel is a bad place to store it for plenty of other reasons as well. I was thinking perhaps between you and the coachman, you could think of a place on your property, and I’d simply act as the transportation.”

She wrinkled her nose and surprisingly grinned at him. “You could see I was about to kick, couldn’t you?”

He put his hands up as if she held a gun. “I understand.”

“Do you really?” Her surprise was genuine. “Well, I’m not entirely certain I do. I believe it must be a habit from a fear of misunderstanding.”

An interesting comment, but before he could ask what she meant, she was down the stairs, already speaking to the coachman, who held the door open for her. “Mr. Reed is joining me. Please take us home.”

The coachman gave Reed a long, dark stare, then climbed onto his bench.

As they drove, she shoved open the little door. “Hawes, Mr. Reed will ask for your help, and I want you to do as he says. Please.”

“Ma’am.”

“And no matter what happens, I promise to do what I can to help you as well, Hawes. All right?” She slid the door shut.

“What does he need your help with?”

She shrugged. “Dull domestic matters.” She gazed out the window, too intensely interested in what was outside the carriage, and he sensed she had another one of those interesting secrets.

After a moment, she leaned back again and asked, “Did you really meet Mr. Clermont in school?”

He nodded.

“I can’t imagine you were friends.”

“No, he ran with a reckless crowd. I didn’t.”

“Were you with any sort of crowd at all?”

He couldn’t help smiling. “One only requires one or two good friends, and I found them.”

“You know all about my father and mother. Tell me about yours.”

“Nothing to tell. I had one of each. They both died four years ago.”

“I’m sorry they’re dead. Tell me about your brothers and sisters.”

“Seven altogether. Three of each besides me, and I’m second.”

She reached over and shook his arm. “You are terrible with details. Come on—names, ages. I’m an only child and have always been fascinated by large families.”

He looked down at her hand, small against his forearm, and wished he was brave enough to capture it, pull her close, steal some more kisses. Instead he cleared his throat.

“Edgar, Elizabeth, Mabel, Richard, Virginia, and Jacob. Edgar’s twenty-nine; Jacob is twelve.”

“And between Edgar and Elizabeth, you, Gideon.”

His Christian name, spoken fondly in her soft voice, proved too much. He slid across the plush velvet seat and put an arm around her shoulders. “What did the doctor do to you, Miss Ambermere? Rather I should ask, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Reed. We’ll be back in a matter of minutes, and perhaps you should get out before then. Not arrive at the same time as I do.”

“Good plan.”

She didn’t move from his embrace, and the sensation of her under his arm, tucked against his side, immediately made him hard. He held his breath, just as he’d done in the doctor’s library. The smell and feel of her was as intoxicating as the chemicals. He gave up. Too much longing for so many hours, days. The bonnet she wore hid her face from him, so he pulled it off and put it on the bench next to him.

She tilted her head back and watched him with solemn eyes. She knew what was going to happen. She didn’t object.

Another kiss. The last one, he promised himself. A small indulgence for pleasure’s sake. He’d avoided pleasure so long, the need for it ate at him.

But then her mouth on his interrupted his justifications and silent arguments, and there was only the feel of her body against his arm, then her warm hand on his nape, sliding down his back and clutching him too. Pulling him close.

She pulled away first, panting and pink-cheeked. When she released her grip, he reluctantly moved away, almost crushing her hat. He handed it to her and watched her tie it on.

“This is far enough, I think,” she said. “You should walk from here.” Cool and only slightly out of breath. He didn’t know what he’d expected or what he even wanted.

A slap, a
how dare you, a what do you think you’re doing
, a soft declaration of affection. Something.

He wasn’t expecting the blunt Miss Ambermere to say absolutely nothing at all about the long, deep kisses they’d shared. At least her fingers weren’t entirely steady as she adjusted the bow.

He would match her calm demeanor. “I’ll see you very soon,” he said and opened the hatch to talk to the driver. “Please pull over to the curb. I’ll be around back to see you, Hawes, in a half hour or so, I hope. I’ll leave it to Miss Ambermere to explain.”

He climbed down from the carriage and walked away without looking back. He waited until his body calmed somewhat, then trotted toward her quiet side street, once again absorbed in thoughts about the perplexing Miss Ambermere.

She’d seemed so interested in him, asking about his family.

He hadn’t known her soft voice coaxing details of his life would be as seductive as that succulent body. He was lonely as well as in need of physical companionship.

Yet after the moment of intimacy, she had lost that warmth. He’d lay odds she wasn’t a flirt. Perhaps she was confused by the dance they fell into together. God knew he was. Once this episode ended, he’d look forward to the freedom to travel in this interesting new world and to search for new paths for himself. That certainly didn’t include trying to satisfy a young lady who’d always known wealth. She’d demand a quality of life he’d never experienced, except as Clermont’s keeper.