Powder of Love (I) by Summer Devon Page A

around the room. Once again they were without a chaperone. He liked the implications. Perhaps she wanted more intimacy. More likely, she trusted him to behave. Either reason gave him hope. For nothing, he reminded himself. He should hope to finish his business and be on his way, nothing more. He had nothing to offer her.
    If he was utterly uninterested in casual liaisons, he was left with what options? Friendship. With a woman? Why not? Because of the way she tucked that curl behind her ear? He could survive the desire her small motions brought.
    “Er. Where is Miss Renshaw?”
    Despite his intentions to foster mere friendship, the fact that they were alone together and in the privacy of her home was so unusual, he could not forget it. Then he noticed her face wore a grave, unhappy expression.
    “Miss Renshaw is indisposed, and I’d rather she didn’t listen to this conversation anyway.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
    “You do like to keep secrets from the females in your life. You didn’t want the maid to hear anything either. Miss Renshaw doesn’t know about the powder?” he asked.
    “She does.”
    Something in the way she twisted the handkerchief in her lap and stared out the window made him ask, “What do you mean?”
    “Only that she does know about it.” She gestured to a tree just outside the house. “Such a pretty evening, isn’t it? I love the bright color of new leaves. They are such a brilliant green.”
    “Yes, that’s it. Very pretty. Why are you being evasive?”
    She winced. Damn, he shouldn’t have challenged her. But he wasn’t a gentleman; she must understand that by now.
    He slid closer to the edge of his seat and absently noted the line of her jaw, the graceful, arched upper lip. Perhaps she’d allow a kiss or two. On her soft cheek. That couldn’t cause any harm or create expectations. Small touches, a light kiss, perhaps nothing more than a sweet taste. His body lurched into eager response at that thought. Hardly surprising, since it had been so long since he’d touched anyone. An affectionate embrace, he told himself. The sort friends might exchange.
    She continued to stare out the window as she spoke. “When I say she knows about the powder, I mean she was unfortunately affected by the chemical. It made her rather ill.”
    “It sounds dangerous.” It hadn’t occurred to him the powder could be poison. That certainly meant he had to keep it out of Clermont’s hands. “May I see the substance?”
    “I’ve locked it in the bottom drawer of this desk.”
    He leaned forward to give the drawer a tug. It was indeed locked.
    She watched, then said, slightly amused, “I suspect when you were a child and someone told you not to touch something because it would burn you, you’d put both hands on it just to be sure for yourself.”
    He couldn’t help smiling, imagining his sister’s hearty agreement with her. “Miss Ambermere, I wish you’d allow me to examine this powder.” There would surely be an easy method to demonstrate its effects were a hoax. Reed cleared his throat. “I have a history with this sort of work. In London, I was hired to disprove several mediums.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I exposed the charlatans who pretended to speak to the dead. I understand this is not the same situation, but I promise I can show you that no true powder of this nature exists.”
    She squeezed her eyes tightly closed for a moment, as if she regarded some inner, horrifying image. “I’d much rather you left it alone.” She shook her head and opened her eyes. “Here is Beels with our tea.”
    After she handed him his cup, a maid poked her head around the doorway. “Miss Renshaw is asking for you again, miss. Shall I tell her you’ve got a visitor?”
    “Oh bother.” She stood and went to the door. “I’ll return in a minute or two. She is feeling insecure, the poor lady. I believe she thinks I’m going to toss her out on her ear.”
    “Why would she think