Snowed By the Wallflower (Revenge of the Wallflowers #48)

Chapter 11

After a day of seething emotion Bel retreated into the thing that focused her mind in times of trouble, her laboratory. The tiny room had once been the kitchen buttery; its outside wall made of stone. The door hung open, and the kitchen behind her was wrapped in darkness and silence, but the oil lamps that hung on either side of her gave off just enough light.

Bel held a vial of nitrate of silver with great care. It was her fifth effort to study the effects of it on various substances, and she was running out. Holding the vial steady, she lowered a thin sliver of copper into it. She had scavenged the copper from the frame Aunt Flora had given her to hold her mother’s miniature. The damaged corner of the frame was a pity, but needs must . She got her material where she could.

“Bel!”

A voice stopped her breath and made her heart race. She peered over her shoulder to see John walking toward her in the shadows, a wry smile on his face. She half turned still holding the vial and caught sight of a blur behind him.

Before she could think, John crashed into her, the door to the laboratory slammed shut, and her vial shattered on the floor. A key turned in the lock.

What on earth ?

“You spiked my plans for Spring, so I spiked yours.” Cecil growled at them, kicking the thick door. The sound of his footsteps stomping away was followed by total silence.

John’s warm body pressed up against hers, robbing Bel of coherent thought. His arms came around her and slid up her back, cradling her closely. There being little room to move, she leaned her forehead into his shoulder, savoring the piney smell he always brought with him. “Did I hurt you?” John murmured.

She shook her head, still against his shoulder. “Cecil again. What did he mean I spiked his plans?”

“Not you. Me. I had a word with the earl. I suspect your nasty cousin has been banished back to the wilds of Aberdeenshire,” he replied rubbing circles on her back.

“Good!” she said fiercely. She backed up an inch or two, enough to look down at the floor. Her precious nitrate of silver was destroyed. “Drat him. That was the last of it.”

“What was it?” John asked, peering around the tiny room for the first time.

“Nitrate of silver,” she replied.

“Saints and the devil protect us! That stuff is dangerous.”

Bel pointed upward with her chin toward the grillwork, ten or eleven inches high, that lined the outside wall just below the ceiling. “There is ventilation. I’m not a complete fool. Though I admit, I usually work with substances like that on my table in the chicken house.”

“This is a chemistry laboratory!”

Bel grinned up at him. “Clever of you to notice.”

“I thought it was some sort of herbal apothecary,” he grumbled.

She ignored him and surveyed the floor. “It’s probably best if I cover it though. Help me remove my smock.” She untied the bow at her neck.

John brushed her hands away and slid the smock down her arms, and the sensation of his hands along the soft muslin of her gown sent shivers through her. “Where on earth did you get nitrate of silver?” he asked.

She set about covering the mess on the floor with her smock. At his question she peered up and sighed. “I mostly order supplies from members of Apothecaries' Hall in London, when I can afford it from my pin money. I have them sent here, care of M.R. Wesley, and the cook takes possession for me. Nitrate of silver is too dear, so I made my own.”

“Made your own?!”

She had truly astonished him now, and it delighted her. “Nitric acid was easy enough to obtain. I just hope Aunt Flora doesn’t notice I no longer wear the silver chain for the cross my father gave me. I put it on a velvet ribbon.”

“I hope you did that in the chicken coop,” he grumbled.

Bel grinned. “I did. With mask and gloves. Speaking of which…” she pulled off her kid gloves and dropped them on the table behind her.

John shook his head. “You are remarkable.”

A surge of pride overwhelmed Bel. No one had ever called her remarkable before. Peculiar, strange, or horrid, but never remarkable. “I might be if I had a real laboratory with good storage for problematic chemicals. And proper ventilation.”

His smile melted her insides. “I have no doubt you would be. You continue to astonish me more every time we speak.” His words cast a spell, binding her eyes to his. They stood chest to chest, eyes fixed together, as if enveloped in a realm in which no words were needed, a kingdom of their own vibrating with attraction and desire.

John moved eventually, lowering his head with infinite care, giving her every chance to protest, while Bel gripped his shoulders, unable to move. The kiss, when it came, radiated joy and a sense of inevitability. The feel of his mouth on her drew her deeper and deeper into a new world of joy, one in which only the two of them existed. She would have allowed him anything.

“We need to stop this.” His voice sounded miles away; Bel raised up on tiptoe to recapture his mouth with hers, and he joined his lips to hers, if only for a moment. “Bel, we’re locked in. We need to get out,” he murmured.

Bell came down to earth; reality, cold and brutal, lashed her. She blinked to clear her head.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Whatever for?” he asked.

How long has this treasure of a woman been taking blame for all disasters large and small?

John cupped Bel’s face with gentle hands. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is another mess of Cecil’s making. I rather liked what just passed between us, and I believe you did to. As delightful as it would be to continue, it won’t do. You must know that.”

Bel sighed, closed her eyes, but made no attempt to move out of his arms. “Cecil means for us to be found together. He’s trying to force you into an unwanted marriage.”

“Are you certain it would be unwanted?” he asked

Her eyes flew open, wide in astonishment at the question. “We’ve only known each other a few days! I’ll not have you forced, when they all know you can have anyone you want come Spring.”

“And if I want you?”

She held her peace, leaving John more downcast than he expected. Her words about short acquaintance were correct, however. “You don’t want to be forced, either. I can see that.”

She shook her head. “Let’s see if we can get out of here, and ruin Cecil’s plots. We’ll worry about the rest if we fail.”

With effort in the narrow space, they rearranged their position so they both faced the door. John tried the handle, which proved what they already assumed. The door was firmly locked.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pick the lock,” Bel mused pulling out one of her hair pins.

“I’m hoping you do,” he said.

She peered at the hairpin. “I’ve heard of people managing with one of these, but I have no idea how.”

John shrugged. “We can try it.” He bent the pin and knelt in front of the lock. Bel’s hand on his shoulder made him wish to be a hero, but alas, the lock proved recalcitrant. It would not budge. He rose to face her. “I’m sorry Bel. Failure.”

“At least you tried. We could call for help, I suppose.” She sounded doubtful.

“They wouldn’t hear us down here. Even if they did, it would bring the gossips down on you, and the wrath of the earl down on me. We should avoid that if we can.”

“Annie and the others will rise by five to start the kitchen fires. They’ll let us out and won’t gossip,” she said.

John could think of nothing he’d like more than spending a night with Bel, but not in a tiny closet stinking of chemicals. “Servants gossip worse than their mistresses.”

Her sad smile cut him to the heart. “Not these. I have their loyalty.”

He pulled her back into his arms, and set her head against his shoulder. With the closed door cutting off the kitchen warmth, Bel’s “ventilation” had rapidly dropped the temperature. “We’ll freeze if we stay here.”

“I’m feeling nicely warm right now,” she said, her words muffled against his coat. She glanced up with mischief in her eyes. “We could keep each other warm.”

Her suggestion sent lascivious images floating through his imagination. As delightful as that appeared, it wouldn’t suffice. Sooner or later, they would fall asleep, freeze, or be sickened by the chemicals, and come to grief.

“What is that grill work made of?” he asked glancing up.

“Wrought iron I think.”

“Help me climb up.”

“There is a stool under the counter. You can probably stand on it, but be careful,” she said.

“If I slip, I’ll just fall into your arms.” Right where I want to be. John grinned at her.

The stool turned out to be sturdy enough. He scrambled up and found he could just reach the grill work, though the counter kept him a bit too far back. “Do you think the counter will hold me?” he asked, peering down at her.

“I have no idea; I never tried standing on it, but it has always been stable.”

When he stepped up onto the counter, the bottles on the narrow shelves shook and clanged together, but the counter held firm under him. Bel put her hands on his legs as if to steady him. “Don’t do that, love. It is too distracting,” he said imagining other circumstances in which he’d welcome her touch.

“Sorry,” she said in a quiet voice, yanking her hands away. “Can you reach it?”

“Yes. Iron for certain but well mortared in. Even if I could budge the grill, I don’t think either of us is small enough to wiggle out. He turned and ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Push the stool back under, and I’ll jump down.”

She did as he asked. “Be?—”

He was down before she could finish, sliding down in front of her and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her again, thoroughly this time, claiming her mouth and exploring her lush curves.

She followed where he led for moments, but when she pulled back and gasped for breath, she asked. “What was that for?”

Need. Desire. Want. Frustrated need to protect you . “Warmth,” he said kissing her again.

“Bel? Bel where are you.” Lady Sophie’s voice.

Gratitude flashed through him followed quickly by disappointment. Damn , he thought. I’d have liked a few minutes more .