“He probably wants you to slap a historical label on his house,” Phillipa said, miffed, and Richard laughed, slumping back into the couch.
“I didn’t agree.”
“Of course not,” she said without hesitation.
I might. Here was yet another facet of Phillipa’s kindliness: she thought better of Richard than he did of himself.
“Phillipa—could the spell have been directed at you? Does anyone in Kingston, in Government House know you’re a woman?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure not.”
“But I know—knew—”
Something slid across Phillipa’s face, a private emotion of—sympathy? Amusement? Affection?
“I think something would have happened before now,” she said. “If someone wanted to get me fired, they would just have to announce, ‘She’s a woman!’ If they wanted to approach me—but that has never happened.”
“If it does, you should inform me.”
He sounded ridiculous with his protective posturing, not to mention hypocritical, and she gaped at him. And then Phillipa actually blushed. Richard balled his hands and stayed on the couch, not close enough to touch that heat.
“It was aimed at me then,” he said. “But I can’t imagine who—other than Lord Simon—”
“An Academy student experimenting?”
“I haven’t encountered one recently. If the Academy was involved, wouldn’t more people have been affected?”
“Perhaps they were.”
“Someone would have noticed!”
Phillipa quirked her brows at him; he raised his own back at her, and they both smiled. Government functionaries excelled at noticing others’ mistakes, the fine-print in court documents, even Minister’s Belemont latest expression. They weren’t particularly skilled at more personal observations. No one, not even Richard, had noticed he was falling steadily in love with his assistant.
If someone had, if this was a ploy to get Richard dismissed—
Yet another ludricous possibility. No one coveted Richard's position. New Government House reverberated with speculations about who had just gotten what post, who had just lost a post (offended a boss, bollixed a project), who had ousted whom from a post . . . However much Richard might like his situation, it was unlikely to engender discussions of political advancement and social approbation. Who would bother to take it away from him?
Phillipa said, “What about Lord Rustilion? Does he have a nephew or cousin he wants to put in your place?”
“I think he forgets that I work for him until he sees me in our weekly meeting.”
Phillipa crossed her arms on the table. She kept her eyes on the table as she spoke:
“Your . . . fiancée: does she know about me? Might she think—?”
“I don’t talk to her about anything that really matters.”
He didn’t realize what he’d given away there until he saw Phillipa’s flush and surprised smile. He couldn’t help but be pleased. She wasn’t angry or offended. She was . . . gratified.
Perhaps now he should say, Have you guessed how I feel about you? You’re not angry: might you reciprocate those feelings in some small way?
She said, “Perhaps you should go to the police. To your brother-in-law, I mean. He would be discreet, wouldn’t he?”
Charles would be discreet. He could also give Richard a list of possible dealers of ingredients in love potions. Richard got to his feet.
“That’s a good idea. What’s planned for today?”
“I was going to spend the morning in the library.”
“If you feel distressed—”
“No.” She held out a hand, a gesture of appeasement, then gave him her usual friendly smile. “You mustn’t worry. Besides . . . research relaxes me.”
Richard watched her roll up the blueprints, collect books and papers. He had kissed her without warning, yet she’d come back to the office, was going to work like usual. And perhaps, she was that tolerant, that accepting of Richard’s vagaries. She still deserved to know that the kiss was more than a mistake, as if Richard hadn’t wanted to do exactly what he did.
He said, “I don’t know how the potion works, but it must bind with qualities already within a person.” She was listening, hands stilled, her face in profile. “Already in me,” Richard amended. “Kissing you was something I already wanted to do. Not like that, of course, without warning or consent. It’s just that—I was already attracted.”
She said without turning around, “I wasn’t averse.”
The last tension left Richard. There was no reason for him to say more. Except he wanted Phillipa—Phillipa at least—to know something real about Richard, something beyond the fashionable persona and social strivings.
“I love you,” he said, and went to find his sister and the police.
V: Allegiance
Start from the beginning
