Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
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Entering the brewing room, Sadie thanked every spirit she knew that Madeleine had decided that whoever had slept in Nicholas’s room should have a private breakfast with him and the dowager the next morning.
She trailed her fingers over the smooth workbench and the cold, rough iron of the cauldron, and told herself that she was grateful she hadn’t needed to face him with only the barrier of a teapot and toast that morning. The silent breakfast with only Helen as a companion had been a reprieve.
She hadn’t needed to confront what she had done the night before, when every brush of his fingers had sent heat spooling through her until she’d had to act.
It wasn’t that she regretted her choice.
How could she regret watching Nicholas unravel like that?
Knowing that it wasn’t just what she had done, but the fact that it was her doing it that had sent him over the edge?
But even if she didn’t regret it, she knew it had been a mistake all the same.
She had thought to take control and instead had lost control herself.
Because she hadn’t strengthened her charm, she had accidentally projected her own thoughts at him, urging him to give in.
Thank the spirits he’d been too lost in the moment to notice that the thoughts hadn’t been his own.
The incident in the kitchen proved that her earlier resolution to avoid him had been the right choice. If only she’d stuck with it and left the moment they were out of Abigail’s sight instead of going to the kitchen with him.
She couldn’t maintain her barriers around him. He’d push harder for her trust, now. She had to fight herself more and more to remember why confiding in him would be a mistake.
She couldn’t tell him.
She wouldn’t.
So, it was for the best that she had a day to herself to try to re-armor herself against his tenderness.
Today was Jane’s day to choose an activity with the baron, and she had opted to visit Lamsdel in search of potion ingredients.
Which meant Sadie had the brewing room to herself, and she didn’t have to talk to Nicholas to know that he would arrange for Jane to be distracted enough in the small village to keep her out of the manor all day. He had a bet to pay off, after all.
Sadie allowed herself simply to breathe in the earthy scent of the brewing room for a few minutes, as though she hadn’t been visiting it every day for over a week. Today was different. Today, she would uncork jars and stir ingredients herself instead of watching Jane.
She studied the shelves of herbs, dried plants, and other bits of magically significant materials.
The Huxleys had amassed a decent collection over the years, and while some would no longer be potent, the rarer ingredients still tempted her.
Many were in jars with a red band around the center, proclaiming their dangerous nature.
None of the potions Sadie knew that incorporated them could be finished in a single day, though, so she skipped over them and pulled an assortment of more common items out. She activated the heat-glyph under the cauldron, poured a careful measure of water into the iron vessel, and began mixing.
The world and all her worries faded away as she crushed dried rue into fine powder and infused a dram of wine with cotton root bark.
She had to focus on the magic as she prepped every ingredient, pulling the ambient power into every part of her potion.
The liquid in the cauldron began to bubble, and more magic flowed in.
Finally, she dropped seven wild carrot seeds into the cauldron, stirred it three times with a mint leaf, and began to count.
When she reached five-hundred, she pulled the cauldron off the heat-rune and set it aside to cool.
She had let instinct guide her, making a potion she had brewed countless times before with the available ingredients.
She hadn’t even thought about what she was making, not caring so long as she finally had the chance to let loose her magic in the one form that didn’t curse her.
So, it was only as the mixture cooled that she even thought about what, exactly, she had made.
She had let more influence her than the collection of ingredients available.
Sadie knew scores of potion recipes, dozens of which she could make in a single day with the ingredients on hand. Yet she had made a contraceptive brew.
The peace from finally brewing again after so long dissolved, and Sadie sank into the chair where she had spent so many hours pursuing grimoires. She hid her face in her hands, and even she couldn’t have said if she was crying or laughing.
A contraceptive potion.
She glanced over at the cauldron. Not just a single potion. She had made a batch large enough to fill over a dozen vials.
Unable to stop herself, Sadie burst into giggles. If her subconscious was telling her something, then the remainder of her time at Marstede Manor was going to be very busy. Then, as abruptly as the laughter had come, it stopped.
She couldn’t. She couldn’t give in to the pull between her and Nicholas.
She was the one who had essentially said it could just be sex, but she knew better.
Even with a time limit, a set date for her to leave, everything between them was too intense.
She already wanted to tell him about her magic, to not have that secret looming between them.
If she allowed him any closer, she’d forget all the lessons she had learned over the years and hope that this time could be different.
But it never was different.
She had to remind herself that telling Nicholas that she was a telepath wouldn’t only kill any desire he had for her. She wouldn’t be able to remain in Lamsdel, the safety of anonymity stripped away.
What she had done the night before was as close as she could come, and even that had only been safe because she had run away afterward.
She’d bottle up her potions and find an excuse to give them to Pippa.
She would not—could not—use them for herself.
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Nicholas tried not to let his impatience show as he ate breakfast with his mother and Jane. Today, Sadie couldn’t avoid him as she had the day before. Today, she was the one set to choose an activity for them to do together. She was the one who’d be sleeping in his bed that night.
But first he had to be polite as Jane blushed whenever she looked at him and his mother insisted that they actually converse rather than scarfing down breakfast and escaping.
“And did you notice anything interesting while in his room last night?” Nicholas’s mother asked Jane with a small smile.
Jane’s cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. “I promise I tried not to pry.”
“My dear, I am hoping you pried. That was the entire point. Now don’t be shy, what did you learn about my son after a night in his rooms?”
Nicholas refused to encourage his mother, but he didn’t want to embarrass Jane, either.
So he kept his attention on his plate and did his best to let her pretend he wasn’t even there.
At least his mother hadn’t asked these questions of Abigail.
Now that would have been a horrible conversation to get through.
The woman had torn through his room after he and Sadie left, triggering the ward on three more of the peas she hadn’t found before her midnight trap.
Not that she had mentioned them the next morning.
Nor had she mentioned the mess she had made of his bookshelves or the stones she had thrown at the wall hard enough to chip the paint.
All Abigail had said over breakfast was how impressed she was with Nicholas’s diverse interests.
His mother would not allow Jane that same sort of nonanswer.
The poor woman demurred a little more, but couldn’t withstand the full force of Madeleine Huxley’s gentle coaxing.
Apparently Jane had learned that he liked to read—not wrong, but not really a cornerstone of his personality—and that he had a wonderful rock collection.
She didn’t piece together that the rocks were experiments for his engraving.
She didn’t mention finding any peas, though she had activated the wards on two of the most obviously placed ones.
Overall, if he had to guess, she truly hadn’t snooped, though she hadn’t been able to resist looking at what was on display completely.
He wondered if that meant she had passed his mother’s test or not. He wouldn’t ask, though, for it didn’t matter.
Finally, their private breakfast ended. Jane left, and Nicholas jumped to his feet. “I’ll go find Sadie.”
His mother patted her lips with a napkin. “Of course. Enjoy your time with her, dear.”
Nicholas ignored the knowing smile she sent him. He had more pressing matters to deal with.
Sadie wasn’t in the main breakfast room.
Nor the brewing room. Nor her suite. After agreeing to send a footman to Lamsdel—again—to acquire another item Abigail couldn’t do without and promising to look at the report his steward had sent, Nicholas convinced his butler to share what he knew.
Timmons informed him that he could find Miss Pentry in the billiards room.
Nicholas didn’t waste any time, heading directly there, though he was curious why his steward had sent another report so soon after the last.
“Is this our activity for the day?” He said, watching Sadie lean over the table, her grip on the cue all wrong. He certainly wouldn’t object to spending the day being treated to such a pleasant view. Or, maybe, he could coach her through how to play, standing behind her, guiding her hands …
She straightened abruptly, the cue knocking into the red ball—she didn’t have any idea how to play—and sending it across the table.
One hand rose to her throat, and he felt the power trickle into her charm as she traced the glyph hidden on the back.
Power that would dissipate the instant she stopped, making him wonder what the point even was.
She shook her head. “No, it is not. I didn’t think we would start so early.”
“I am all yours, Sadie.” The words could have meant for the day. Because of his mother’s schemes and ridiculous schedule. Nicholas knew he meant more.
She returned the cue to its rack. “Well, we aren’t staying here.”
“Then you know what activity you want to do?”
She looked roughly in the vicinity of his shoulder. “I do.”
Sadie made her way past him and out into the hall without elaborating.
He followed obediently behind her. It was a pleasant place to be, with the sway of her hips, the curve of her waist, right in front of him.
Of course, he very much liked the view from the front, too.
He tried not to think about how she had looked in the spring or on her knees or bent over the billiards table.
The middle of the hallway was not the place to indulge in such thoughts.
Though trying not to think about those moments only made it harder to forget them.
Sadie sucked in a breath and suddenly pivoted. “We’re going to bake a cake.”
He blinked, his thoughts scattering. “A cake?”
She nodded forcefully.
“I didn’t know you liked baking.” He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist asking, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go for a swim? You did say that was one of your favorite activities.”
She pointed a finger at him, and he noticed she was careful to hold back, to not actually jab it against his chest. “We are baking a cake.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Sadie.”
This time they fell into step next to each other, and he caught her sneaking glances at him from the corner of her eye.
“Do you know how to bake?” he asked when they were only a few feet from the kitchen door, needing to distract himself from what had happened the last time he was in that space.
“It’s not that different from brewing,” she admitted softly.
“Tastes better, though.” He was relieved to see her smile, a little of the tension draining from her.
“Potions taste bad on purpose. Water-witches don’t want to be pestered needlessly.”