Verity and the Villain Page 9

  Minnie turned her back on him and leaned her head on Verity’s shoulder with a happy giggle. “I met him,” she whispered in Verity’s ear.

  Verity didn’t need to ask who, the sickness in her belly answered her question. What to do? She took Minnie’s hand, as if she could hold her and keep her safe.

  Minnie sat up and sent cautionary glances at Trent and Miles. “Mr. Steele is as sweet as he looks,” she whispered.

  Verity stared straight ahead, her thoughts whirling. Of course, it was inevitable. Minnie met and entertained every available bachelor. A bounce of her curls, a curve to her lips, a look beneath her lashes, Minnie knew how to work her charms. Verity, still holding her own internal debate could hardly focus on Minnie’s words. Minnie moved her lips, sounds came out, but Verity couldn’t interpret the meaning.

  “How?”

  “How what?” Minnie frowned at her brother leaning in to eavesdrop.

  Verity raised her voice for Miles to hear. “Did you just go up to him and introduce yourself?” Seattle didn’t live by New York’s strict etiquette code, but she still didn’t think that Minnie would be so bold.

  “Of course, not. Mrs. Ludlum introduced us.” Minnie looked sadly at the bottle in her hand. “I didn’t get the chance to use the liquid love, but I will on our drive.”

  “Liquid love? Drive?”

  Minnie squeezed Verity’s hand. “He’s picking me up for a drive through the park.”

  “Just you?” Verity’s voice squeaked. She couldn’t offer to accompany her, but someone needed to.

  “And the Ludlums.”

  “When?” If she was going to warn Minnie she’d need to be able to squeak out more than one word at a time. Verity didn’t know the Ludlums, but she hoped that they were a Viking-sized family possessing incredible strength and a variety of weapons. She rallied her thoughts, but before she could begin spouting dire warnings, the house lights lowered and the horrible organ began to play.

  “Hush,” Miles whispered to Minnie although Verity wondered why he bothered. All around them the audience grew increasingly rowdy.

  For once obedient, Minnie closed her mouth and settled back to watch the play.

  Verity lifted her fan so it shielded her face and whispered, “You know his wife took her life.”

  “So tragic,” Minnie sighed. “A man who has endured such heartbreak will need added compassion.”

  “But—”

  Minnie flushed hot. “You wouldn’t blame a man for his wife’s emotional vagrancies, would you?”

  “Have you thought that he might have driven her—”

  “No,” Minnie said so loudly that Miles shushed her. She ignored her brother for the umpteenth time. “I can’t believe that you, of all people, would listen to malicious gossip.”

  With an apologetic glance at Miles, Verity whispered, “What do you mean me of all people?”

  Trent leaned over and whispered in her ear. “My sister is singing. If you’re going to have a conversation, will you please include me? I’d like the distraction.”

  Verity shook her head. She didn’t want to distract Trent. She needed to thwart Minnie.

  Miles leaned in and nodded at the tiny bottle in Minnie’s lap. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Minnie looked studiously at the stage. Holding her shoulders stiff and her chin up, she pointedly ignored Miles. And Verity.

  “I can’t believe you spend your money on that snake oil,” Miles grumbled.

  “Snake oil?” Verity asked, glancing at the vial clasped in Minnie’s hand.

  “Liquid Love,” Miles said, rolling his eyes.

  “A love potion?” Curious, Verity reached for the bottle, but Minnie snatched it away.

  Verity didn’t believe in love potions, but what if it worked? “Sweetie, you don’t need that. You already have at least half of Seattle’s men tripping over themselves.”

  Minnie sighed. “I’m trying to watch the show.”

  Verity held her tongue and breath, waiting for something, some opportunity. When Chloe tried to hit a painfully high note, Miles bumped Minnie’s chair and the tiny vial rolled off Minnie’s lap and onto the floor. It landed beside Trent’s boot.

  Verity fluffed out her skirts so that they covered the vial. She used her shoe to nudge the vial between her feet. Trent looked at her, cocking his eyebrow in a question as she bumped her foot against his boot. She smiled, trying to look innocent. He took her hand and she wondered if he could feel her skittering pulse.

  Minnie, realizing she’d lost the vial, looked at the floor. “My liquid love,” she whispered to Verity.

  Trent leaned over, “Have you lost something?”

  “Her liquid love,” Verity told him.

  Minnie hit Verity’s hand with her program and returned her attention to the stage, her lips pressed together tightly.

  “I’m sorry,” Verity whispered to Minnie, “but if you’re embarrassed about it then maybe you shouldn’t use it.”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” Minnie lied. A scowl creased her forehead.

  And I am not ashamed, Verity thought as she slipped her foot from her shoe and curled her toes around the vial so she could tuck it into her shoe.

  #

  The next morning shortly after dawn, Verity stood in the back garden and watched the liquid love disappear into the roots of a rose bush. As it bubbled in the dirt, Verity wondered what effect it would have on the bush. Of course, a bush couldn’t fall in love, but it might lose its thorns or become less prickly. She glanced at the neighboring rhododendron. Maybe tomorrow she’d find the two plants intertwined. Perhaps next spring there’d be a baby rosendodendron bush.

  “Oh, there you are, sweetie,” Tilly said from the back doorway. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m looking for snapdragons.” Verity cleared her throat. The liquid love had given her an idea. Although it was nice to think of baby rosedodendrons, she really didn’t believe in love potions, but she did believe in sleeping draughts. When her father was sick and in so much pain, she’d frequently made them for him.

  “Snap dragons?” Tilly asked. She couldn’t have sounded more surprised if Verity had said she was looking for fire breathing dragons.

  “It’s a flower,” Verity said. “Do they grow here? They’re abundant in New York.”

  “Are you homesick, dear?” Concern touched Tilly’s voice.

  Verity glanced at the name stamped on the empty vial before slipping it into her apron pocket. “Auntie, I love it here, with you. It’s just sometimes, I miss certain things about New York. Today I miss snap dragons.” She walked up to the back porch and slipped her arm around her aunt’s ample waist. “And I miss baking.”

  “Baking?” Again, the surprise. Verity had already learned that her aunt avoided the kitchen, leaving most of the cooking to Lee and Young Lee.

  “Would you mind if I made some tarts?” Verity asked as she steered Tilly into the kitchen. “I’m getting tired of rice.”

  “Well of course not, dear.”

  “Auntie, have you ever heard of Dr. Merry?”

  “The chemist?”

  Verity flushed, remembering the chemist shop and when she’d almost hit Trent over the head with a yardstick.

  “Why?” Tilly narrowed her eyes at Verity. “You mustn’t involve yourself in his tricks. You want a man to love you because he loves you, not because he’s been chemically induced.”

  Verity laughed and her aunt noticeably relaxed in her arms. “I don’t need liquid love!” Verity said. “I want snap dragon seeds.”

  “It is planting season,” Tilly said, looking at her bedraggled garden, before closing the back door. “But why would Dr. Merry have snap dragon seeds?”

  “To cure my touch of homesickness,” Verity told her as she went into the pantry and began pulling out the ingredients for tarts.

  “You don’t need Dr. Merry, you need a seed catalogue.”

  Verity said, “I think I’ll check with Dr. Merry firs
t.”

  #

  The chemist shop sat on the boardwalk directly across from The Lone Stagg tavern. Pushing open the door, the smell of Lifebuoy soap assaulted Verity and reminded her of how it felt to have Trent’s arms around her. She’d been holding a yardstick, ready to beat him, or anyone, away and yet he’d held onto her, steadied her.

  She couldn’t think about Trent. She needed snapdragon seeds. For a sleeping potion. A potent sleeping potion. Turning her back on the Lifebuoy soap display, she headed for the counter. A tiny man with wire rimmed glasses bent over a seed catalogue. Verity couldn’t wait for the snapdragon seeds; she needed them today. Peeking through the doorway, she saw a room lined with shelves filled with vials in a variety of sizes and shapes. A brown, odorless smoke curled out of a large pot sharing a table with what looked like a jar of frog legs.

  The tiny man looked up from his catalogue, his large watery eyes piercing. “MayIhelpyou?” he mumbled, his voice low and gravelly.

  Verity cleared her throat, as if by so doing she could make him more understandable. “Yes, I’d like to purchase snapdragon seeds.”

  He squinted at her and she flinched beneath his steadfast gaze. He took off his glasses, wiped them on his apron, put them back on and looked at her some more.

  “Perhaps I should—” Verity motioned toward the grain and seed shop down the street.

  The man lifted his pointy finger to the ceiling, signaling for Verity to stop or wait, she wasn’t sure which. He closed his catalogue and disappeared into the backroom. From the other side of the door came more mumbling.

  Verity tried to see if he was talking to someone other than himself, someone who also mumbled, because his conversation grew increasingly heated. Moments later he reappeared with three items: an envelope, a tea bag and a vial of clear liquid.

  The little man looked triumphant as he laid his goods on the counter for Verity’s inspection. “Snapdragonseedsmemoryeraserandsedative.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Verity shook her head. “I only need the snapdragon seeds.”

  The man laid both hands flat on the counter and leveled his gaze at Verity. “Thatsnottrue,” he practically barked.

  Verity fingered her coin purse. What had he said? She’d caught the snapdragon seeds. Pointing at the envelope, she said, “Snapdragon seeds.”

  The man nodded. “Fordeepsleep.”

  Verity nodded and then laid her finger on the tea bag. “And this is?”

  “Memoryeraser.”

  Ohhh, very good. She hoped she’d never get close enough to Steele to serve him tea, but she immediately knew that a memory eraser could come in handy. She picked up the vial. “And this?”

  “Averystrongsedative.”

  “Like the sleeping potion.”

  He shook his head. “Notatall.Thissuckstheviolenceoutofaman.”

  Violence sucker. Interesting. Verity picked up the vial, uncorked it and held it to her nose. It had a nutty odor.

  “Itdoesn’tworkforwomen.”

  Verity smiled and asked. “How much?” Knowing she’d pay whatever the price.

  #

  The bell tower struck three as she hurried down the path, the tarts hidden beneath a cloth in the basket she carried over her arm. The May sun burned warm, clouds skittered across the sky with the light breeze, and for once there wasn’t a hint of rain. It would have been a lovely day for a carriage ride, but if Verity’s plan worked, as she was sure it would, Minnie would not spend the afternoon in Mr. Steele’s carriage.

  Standing on the porch, Verity fought back her worry. She rapped so hard on the front door she bruised her knuckles.

  Laurel, Minnie’s maid, opened the door and curtsied. “Good afternoon, Miss.”

  “Good day, Laurel.” Her voice sounded steady. Grateful wracking nerves were inaudible, Verity took a deep breath to steady herself and asked for Minnie. She trailed after Laurel to the sitting room.

  Verity glanced at the portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Carol hanging above the fireplace mantle and took a seat on the divan. In her imagination, she could feel the cold gaze of Mr. Carol. You should be thanking me, she told him.

  She’d learned from Minnie that Mr. Carol, a man with a stern set to his lips and a rigid jaw, had uncompromising views on womanhood and marriage and Minnie’s inability to choose a suitor and settle down had caused such frustration that after Minnie’s third broken engagement, Mr. Carol had shipped his only daughter off to live under her brother’s eagle eye.

  Verity prayed that Minnie wouldn’t choose Mr. Steele for her next fiancée, but just in case God wasn’t listening to Verity’s prayers, Verity had made tarts. Tarts that would ensure Minnie would spend the afternoon asleep. Verity knew proud, arrogant, and conceited Mr. Steele wouldn’t take kindly to being stood up. The Lord helps those who help themselves, she rationalized, but she wasn’t sure if the Lord would approve of friends drugging friends.

  Verity jumped to her feet when she heard footsteps in the hall. Her heart sped when she recognized the male voices.

  “She’s a pretty little filly,” Trent said. “Long legs. She may be more temperamental than you’d like.”

  “Good teeth?” Miles asked.

  Horses, Verity breathed. They’re talking about horses. She tucked the basket behind her, the tarts were for Minnie only. She tried to sit still so the men wouldn’t notice her. When the front door opened and then closed and the two men’s voices floated through the open window, she let out a sigh of relief. Please let them go far away, she prayed.

  “Verity?”

  She whirled to see Minnie standing in the doorway. Her friend wore a green cotton dressed piped with a yellow silk trim and a trying-to-be-polite expression on her face. Verity took note that the men’s conversation had stopped when Minnie had spoken her name.

  “You look so pretty,” Verity said, hoping her tone could convince Minnie she hadn’t come to restart last night’s argument.

  Minnie’s stiff back didn’t loosen an inch.

  Verity took a step forward. “I brought you a tart, two actually, to sweeten my apology.”

  “Apology?” Minnie lifted an eyebrow and looked skeptical.

  Verity nodded. “I know I shouldn’t listen, or spread gossip about Mr. Steele’s unfortunate late wife…It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

  Minnie sniffed and looked a little mollified. “You wouldn’t even tell me who had told you the rumors.”

  “You know the saying, a cruel story runs on wheels, and every hand oils the wheels as they run.” Verity lifted the cloth off the basket and released a warm, fragrant puff of air. “I didn’t want to get gossip-oil on my hands, but I know you’re bright, intelligent, and completely capable of forming your own judgments. I’m sorry if I tried to sway you.”

  Minnie took a step closer, licked her lips and looked into the basket at the two tarts. “Are you going to eat also?”

  Verity shook her head. “I’ve had plenty. They were something of an experiment.” She thought of Tilly snoring in the sewing room, her head slumped onto the table and nestled in a pile of blue surge cotton.

  Minnie looked down at her dress. “Maybe I should wait until after my drive with Mr. Steele.”

  “Oh, please! They’re so much better when warm. Just one bite,” Verity said, knowing that one bite would almost certainly lead to another. “It’s a new recipe I’ve just made, and I’d like your opinion.”

  Although, Tilly had certainly seemed to have enjoyed her tart.

  “Perhaps if I’m careful not to get crumbs on my dress,” Minnie murmured as Verity used a piece of linen to draw out the tart. Golden brown fluted crust, blackberries swirled in a creamy pudding—Verity cradled her creation in her outstretched hand. It looked and smelled like edible heaven.

  “Please take one,” Verity said. “Then I’ll know that you’ve truly forgiven me for being a bossy, nosy, and gossip monger.”

  “And a preachy priss,” Minnie added choosing the blackberry. “Oh, it’s still warm.”
<
br />   “Fresh from the oven, because this preachy priss loves you.”

  Minnie took one bite and then another. “I love you, too,” she sighed, her eyes rolling in delight.

  Verity wrapped her arm around Minnie’s waist and led her to the divan.

  “This is so yummy, are you sure you don’t want some?” Minnie asked, settling down and looking up at Verity.

  “So sure,” Verity said.

  “But you brought two.”

  “Because I didn’t know if you preferred blackberry or rhubarb.”

  Minnie touched her fingers to her lips. “You’re almost as sweet as this tart.”

  Almost, Verity thought.

  A door opened and footsteps in the hall signaled the return of Miles and Trent.

  Minnie patted the divan with one hand and ate the tart with the other. “Sit with me?” she asked with blackberry stained teeth.

  “No, sweetie.” Verity listened to the men’s footsteps and voices moving down the hall. As much as she wanted to stay to ensure the oil from the snapdragon seeds worked their magic, she didn’t want to meet Trent, Miles, or especially Mr. Steele. “I told Aunt I’d only be gone a minute.”

  “But you just got here. I need a hen chat.”

  “Tomorrow, on the way to the ball you can tell me all about your drive with Mr. Steele.”

  Minnie leaned back into the divan, her eyes dreamy. “Hmm, Mr. Steele.” She gave Verity a lopsided grin and Verity smiled back, wondering if she should tell Minnie that she had a smear of blackberry cream on her chin.

  “Miss Faye?”

  Miles stood in the hallway. Disappointment mingled with relief when she saw he was alone. Trent had gone. She despised being muddled, and Trent made her feel upside down. If she didn’t want to see him then why was she so disappointed to find Miles alone? After a moment she decided she didn’t want to see Trent because she knew he could ferret out her plan. If he knew what she’d done, he would think poorly of her. He had a knack for seeing through her.

  The guilt returned, but Verity mentally argued it away. What should I have done? I couldn’t tell Minnie I’ve a previous history with Steele nor could I stand by and watch her throw herself at him. Verity sighed while the guilt twisted. She picked up her basket and turned to face Miles. She didn’t worry about Miles suspecting her laced tarts.