Chapter Thirteen

Flora was apprehensive as she passed the crowded taproom of the inn that evening. What if someone recognized her? The large fair attracted people from all over the county. She’d just have to brazen it out and continue the pretense that she was visiting the Mullens. What she’d say if anyone caught her meeting with a man, a relative stranger, in the dim snug of the King’s Arms, she had no idea.

Once settled down carefully out of view of the door, she put in an order for a shank of lamb, well done, with buttered worts and roast potatoes. It felt wicked, spending precious savings on a luxury like lamb, but tonight she felt driven to wickedness. She’d already broken so many rules of Polite Society, what mattered a few more? She hadn’t been on her own like this since before the Allstons moved in with her, and the taste of freedom was still sweet, and heady as strong wine.

The parlor door opened and Lawrence strode in, still dressed like a gentleman, bringing with him the scent of the exotic spices which pervaded his wagon.

She felt a little giddy when he seated himself opposite and ordered a jug of ale from the serving girl who’d followed him in.

“It’s thirsty work, performing a medicine show,” he told Flora with a wink, which made her even dizzier. “Will you have some ale? The local brews are excellent.”

“Why, yes, thank you.”

“Two cups, please,” he told the girl. “How are you, Miss Hartington?” he asked cheerfully. “Any news on the hat shop plan?”

Of course, there wasn’t. Thanks to him. But they could have that skirmish later.

“I’m surprised you remember,” she said drily.

He leaned forward and took her hand. She was too astonished by the sudden bolt of excitement that shot up her arm to pull away.

Snagging her gaze, he said, “I remember everything you say, Miss Hartington. I have the greatest respect for your words and opinions.”

“Not so much that you feel it acceptable to vanish without a word,” she said tartly.

“Unavoidable, I’m afraid. However, I hope to be able to make that up to you.”

“By dyeing my hair back?” she asked hopefully.

“I’ve told you, you should leave it as it is.”

“But you are still experimenting?” She hadn’t come all this way and risked her reputation for nothing.

Had she?

He smiled. “You can experiment yourself, if you like. I’ll give you access to all my herbs and simples. How long will you be in Dorchester?”

“Two or three weeks,” she said cautiously.

“Splendid.” He cocked his head to one side.

She gazed at him, trying to read the expression in his dark eyes. When he raised an eyebrow at her scrutiny, a rush of heat suffused her entire body, settling in parts she thought no longer had either use or feeling.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said.

She gulped. That did not sound very…respectable. She should get up and leave right this minute. So, why didn’t she?

The serving girl needed to come in with supper. Now. Before this conversation got out of hand and she broke every rule in the book.

“What kind of proposition?” she asked, her voice quivering from the audacity of the question. What had she become, to be able to ask such a scandalous thing? For, surely, she already knew what he had in mind.

“I want to employ you as my assistant.”

She froze in shocked silence. “Employ me?” she finally managed. She digested his words, trying to twist them into a logical meaning. “As your assistant? Seriously?” She wasn’t sure if she was massively relieved, or even more massively disappointed.

“Deadly serious.” He grinned at her. “I’ll pay you a share of the profits.”

Her mouth had dropped open, and at that she snapped it shut.

If he paid her, she’d be able to stay here without making a hole in her savings.

But…it was a preposterous suggestion, whichever way one looked at it.

“My reputation—” she began, but he interrupted.

“You’re free to do as you wish, aren’t you? No one knows you’re here.”

“What makes you think that?” She’d sent word to Lucinda about going to Dorchester, but she’d lied about visiting the Mullens here.

He tapped the side of his nose, then sat back as the serving wench placed the jug and tankards on the table. Filling one and handing it to Flora, he said, “I can’t imagine you have your sister’s approval for being here.”

There was far too much presumption in his tone. Even if he was right.

She said stiffly, “As it happens, I’m here to visit friends.” She paused while her supper was delivered, then added, “Surely, you don’t think I came here in search of you, do you?”

“I hadn’t, until now,” he replied, still grinning. “So, what do you say to my proposal?”

“To be your assistant? It’s madness.”

“I’ll throw in free medicines. I’ve created a splendid new liniment for rheumatism—a godsend come winter. I’m sure you know somebody who could benefit—”

“No.”

“We’ll disguise you. You can have my spectacles with the plain glass lenses. You can wear your hair in a looser style, so the vibrant color shows—nobody will ever know it’s you. I can borrow a gown from the players—a Juliet costume, maybe—to make you look the part, and you can wear a theatrical mask, too, if you want. I can even train you to change your voice.”

She chewed a mouthful of her lamb. It was delicious. She washed it down with a sip of ale. Also delicious. Then she looked across at the tempting devil who was offering her a delicious taste of freedom.

True freedom—an escape from being herself.

So very tempting.

Laying her fork down on her plate, she caught and held his gaze. She was a whisker away from seriously considering his proposal, but common sense hadn’t wholly deserted her. She had to make it clear exactly what she’d be assisting with…and what she definitely would not. “Tell me why you want to take me on as your assistant.”

“Simple. I detest the sight of blood. I’ve a tooth pulling scheduled tomorrow, and there’ll be more, wherever I pitch my wagon.”

She stared at him, flummoxed. Whatever she’d expected to hear as his reason, that was not it.

“Every inhabited place on earth has folk with rotten teeth,” he went on. “And much as I hate pulling the damn things, the rinse I give the patients afterward does such a splendid job of killing the pain, word spreads rapidly. People flock to me with their dental problems.” He grimaced. “Sorry if the subject puts you off your meal. I’m not used to polite company.”

It was a bit late to worry about that. But it didn’t matter—she could barely taste the food now for the excitement that lanced through her.

This wasn’t a nefarious proposal. He genuinely wanted her help.

Oh, to be somebody else, if only for a week or two! To escape being obedient, colorless, insignificant Miss Flora Hartington. And to spend time with someone who’d actually, willingly, look after her, entertain her, and flatter her. Wouldn’t it be blissful to forget her mundane responsibilities, and tear up the code of behavior by which she was expected to live?

On second thought, common sense had deserted her completely.

Lifting her ale cup, she saluted him and said, “Bother propriety, Dr. Campaign. I’ll do it.”