The Apothecary's Daughter (48 page)

Then, in a moment, everything changed. One minute she and
her father were despondently sitting before plates of food neither saw
nor wanted, and the next there was Charlie in the doorway. Dirty,
odiferous, and wonderful to behold.

“Enough for one more?” he asked, looking at their breakfast.

Lilly gasped, leapt to her feet, and grabbed her brother in a fierce
hug. Her father raised himself on shaky legs and squeezed Charlie’s
shoulder before sinking heavily into his chair. His improvement had
not lasted.

“Sit down, Charlie. I can barely believe it. Tell us what
happened.”

He sat, and they both looked at him expectantly. Charlie eyed her
breakfast once more.

“Oh, here.” She pushed her untouched plate before him.

They waited impatiently while he took several bites, and then
Lilly prompted again. “What happened?”

Charlie shrugged, and said around a bite of cold ham, “Mr. Ackers
comes in and says, `Charlie lad, it’s yer lucky day. Mr. Marlow says
you work for him and he wants you back. He’s responsible for you
now, so no more nanny fudgin’ about.’ “

Lilly shook her head, stunned. “I cannot believe it. Mr. Marlow!
And when he had already released you from your contract.”

“Must need me straightaway for his Burt garden.”

Lilly doubted the garden was in such dire need, but forbore to say
so. She did not doubt Mr. Marlow’s influence over the constable as
leading landowner and future baronet. Beyond that, the two had been
boyhood friends. She fleetingly wondered how she had not thought to
request his help herself.

“Well,” Lilly said, relief flooding her, “we shall have to go and
thank Mr. Marlow personally.”

After breakfast, she and Charlie hitched up Pennywort and drove
the gig to Marlow House. As they drew near, Charlie saw Mr. Timms
clipping privet near the fountain and asked to be let down to speak to
him. “Very well. But come to the house as soon as you’ve done so.”

She turned the horse toward the stables, but instead of Cecil Briggs
coming to take the reins, Roderick Marlow himself strode out, dressed
in riding coat and Hessian boots.

Flushed and breathless at his sudden appearance, she burst out,
“Mr. Marlow, I have come to thank you.”

A smile slowly formed on his aquiline countenance as he looked
up at her. “Your brother has been released?”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“I am pleased to hear it.” He led her horse and gig into the stable
yard.

She stood, preparing to climb down. Lifting his hands, he grasped
her by the waist and effortlessly carried her to the ground. She felt her
cheeks flush anew. A simple hand down would have sufficed.

“You are very kind. Charlie is with Mr. Timms, but I know he
will want to thank you. I’ll ” She turned to fetch Charlie, but Mr.
Marlow took hold of her wrist, halting her departure.

“Please wait.” Hand still holding hers, he led her into the stable
office. “I am glad for your brother, but do not paint me a saint. I confess
I thought only of you.”

She inhaled deeply. Her heart beat with heavy thuds. Would he
always have such an effect on her?

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Miss Haswell, speechless?” He grinned. “I am all astonishment.”

She tried to smile in return, but her awe was such that her lips
only managed a tremble.

He slowly shook his head. “What a man would do, to have a woman
forever look at him the way you are regarding me.” He reached out and traced a finger along her jawline and chin. “I should very much
like to kiss you, Miss Haswell.”

She swallowed.

“I must also own that I have never before asked permission.”

She said shakily, “You have kissed a great many women, then?”

He considered this. “I would not say a great many. But I have never
kissed you, Miss Haswell. That I would remember.”

She stared at him, mesmerized by his unusual eyes. One a shade
darker than the other. Or was one green and the other brown?

“Miss Haswell?”

“Oh! ” She started. “Forgive me.”

He leaned down. “Here, now you may examine me more
closely.”

For a moment, she did just that. Studied his eyes, his dark lashes
and brows. His prominent cheekbones and pinpricks of black whiskers
beneath fair skin.

“Anything amiss?” he asked. “A sty, perhaps?”

She shook her head, still regarding him, his thin lips and sharp
nose, the nostrils which seemed to flare at her close inspection.

When she returned her gaze to his eyes, she saw that they gleamed
with suppressed laughter. “Have I need of an apothecary, or might a
kiss suffice?”

She bit her lip. “I cannot give you leave to kiss me.”

He sighed dramatically. “Which is why I never ask first.”

She squared her shoulders. “But perhaps I might kiss your cheek,
Mr. Marlow. For saving my brother.”

His brows rose. “A gratitude kiss? Not my favorite sort.”

Feeling foolish, she began to turn away. “Never mind, then.”

He gently turned her back to face him. “No. Please never mind
me. I dearly long for a gratitude kiss from you, Miss Haswell.”

She realized he was likely mocking her, but her thankfulness overwhelmed every other emotion.

He bent low again, face near. She would not have reached him
otherwise. His hands, she surmised, were now safely behind his back.
Safe enough, she hoped.

She leaned forward slowly, aiming for his cheek. He shifted and
she kissed his lips instead. Their lips touched for a lingering moment.
One heartbeat, then two. When she pulled away, the laughter had
altogether gone from his eyes.

The fashion hails from countesses to queens,
And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes….

LORD BYRON

n the coffeehouse dining room, Lilly helped Mary with the heavy
task of pushing all the tables to one side and stacking chairs, preparing to mop the entire floor. Surveying the open space, Lilly dramatically stood her mop straight, head up, and curtsied before it.

“I would be delighted to dance with you, sir,” she said. With a
bend of her elbow, the mop-haired “gentleman” tilted toward her in a
bow. Grasping her stick-thin partner with both hands, Lilly performed
a spinning dance around the cleared room.

Leaning on a second mop, Mary grinned and shook her head. “You
can take the lady out of London …” She let the words trail away. She
studied Lilly’s whirling steps. “I have not seen that dance before.”

“It is the dreaded turning waltz.”

“No,” gasped Mary in feigned shock. “Not the scandalous dance
condemned by all the papers.”

Lilly halted and propped her mop against the wall. “The very
same. Might I tempt you into learning it?”

“Never,” Mary said coyly. “I am far too proper for such wickedness.

Lilly raised an eyebrow. “The Mary Mimpurse who spied the
cricket team swimming in the Owens’ pond? I think not.”

Tugging the mop from Mary’s hand and standing it beside her
own, Lilly grasped Mary about her waist and pulled and spun her
around the room, until they nearly collided with the stacked chairs.

“Please, Lill, stop,” Mary gasped. “I am dizzy!”

Lilly halted abruptly, still holding on to Mary as her friend regained
her balance and breath. “Are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

Breathing hard, Mary said, “I am not having a fit, if that is what
you mean. Unless you mean a fit of the vapors.”

Assured her friend was all right, Lilly released her.

“That dance will not be performed at Wilcot, I assure you,” Mary
said, refastening a hairpin that had come loose whilst spinning.

“Even so, how I look forward to the country dance.” Lilly retrieved
her mop and dipped it into the bucket near the hearth. She slanted a
glance at Mary. “And I know a certain surgeon-apothecary who looks
forward to dancing with you.”

Mary bit back a smile of pleasure. “I own a certain gleeful anticipation of that myself.”

After the trying days of Charlie’s imprisonment, they were all
looking forward to Wilcot’s end-of-summer fete, which was to include
both a fair and a dance. She and Mary planned to attend with Charlie,
Dr. Graves, and Mr. Shuttleworth. No doubt Francis and Dorothea
Robbins would attend as well.

But on Saturday, her father awoke with a fever, and Lilly felt
obliged to stay with him.

“Then I shall stay as well,” Mary said, though her countenance
was decidedly downcast.

“And leave all those fine partners to Miss Robbins alone? I think not. You know Mr. Shuttleworth and Charlie will be exceedingly
disappointed if you do not attend.”

Mary grinned. “They would, would not they?”

“Of course. Now go and be danced off your feet, my lovely, as
you well deserve.”

Mary’s eyes sparked with mischief. “I shall benefit from your
absence in that regard, shan’t I?”

“Oh!” Lilly winked. “I can see how much I shall be missed!”

That afternoon, Dr. Graves called on her father, prescribed fever
powder, fluids, and bed rest. He was disappointed to learn she would
not be attending the Wilcot fair. “I would not go either,” he said sheepishly. “But Dr. Foster requests it. Says I should make the acquaintance
of as many potential patients as possible. But I shall not dance, Miss
Haswell you may depend upon it.”

“I do not wish to depend upon it! I hope you will dance, especially
should gentlemen be scarce and ladies be in want of a partner.”

She thought of her own first dance with Dr. Graves and hoped no
lady would have to endure such a reluctant performance.

He said quietly, “I did not come all this way to dance with other
ladies, Miss Haswell.”

She smiled shyly up at him. “Just don’t enjoy it overly much and
I shall be satisfied.”

He grinned. “When have I ever?”

Lilly looked up from her book to the sitting room clock once more.
Two hours had slowly passed. It felt like more. Her father was sleeping
peacefully and the novel was not engaging. Perhaps she should just
give it up and go to bed.

An unexpected knock sounded on the sitting room door. Before
she could react, Francis stepped in, looking masculine and handsome
in his dark coat and trousers, hat in hand.

She rose. “Francis. What are you doing here?”

“I could not enjoy myself, knowing you were not.”

She was pleased and anxious at once. “You needn’t have come.
There is no use in the both of us missing out.”

“I don’t mind.”

“But Miss Robbins mentioned you were quite the accomplished
dancer.”

“Mr. Shuttleworth has taught me a few things, I own.” His eyes
gleamed. “Now, there’s a sight not to be missed. Mr. Shuttleworth
in purple coat and gold waistcoat, prancing the fancy steps of a
cotillion.”

She chuckled. “I can well imagine. But I should have liked to see
you dance as well. No doubt Miss Robbins was counting on you as
a partner.”