Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(12)
Dare emerged dressed only in shirtsleeves and trousers, looking a little pale but not drunk. She swallowed hard at all that broad male chest covered only in thin linen. Her husband was amazingly muscular for an ill man. And she shouldn’t be studying his physique.
Silently, she handed him the horehound. He grimaced and rummaged in the drawer in the stand beside the bed, producing a bottle. Thinking he was taking his mineral water, Emilia waited. Only when he’d swigged and coughed some more did she see the label.
She grabbed it before he could return it to the drawer. “Fowler’s Solution?” She carried the bottle closer to the lamp to read the label. “It says nothing of the contents. Do you have any idea what is in this?”
He snatched the bag of horehound from her hand and helped himself to one. With the cough under control, he began to breathe without the frightening choking sound. “I told you, my physician recommended that I test it.”
“You’ve said yourself that you need more subjects before a test is a true experiment. You can’t take both mineral water and patent medicine and expect to know which cures you.” Instinct told her to fling it far, far away, but she had to respect his decisions if she expected him to respect hers. She returned the bottle to the table.
“Neither will cure me,” he said with a fatalistic shrug. “But Fowlers calms the cough when nothing else does.”
“Which means it could contain codeine,” she warned. “It’s addictive.”
Perhaps the heat she felt at his lingering look was simply an effect of the room’s closeness.
“I know better than that. I tested it chemically. Formaldehyde and sulfuric acid detects opium derivatives.” He rudely sprawled out on the bed and eyed her dishabille with lascivious interest. “Are you rested now?” he asked with a degree of hope in his voice.
Ah, there was the devil he could be. A thrill raced through her at the way his eyelids lowered to study her with masculine curiosity. She was unaccustomed to this sort of attention, so of course she preened a little. Just a little.
“How do you know what detects opium? I’ve never heard of such a test.” Despite her effort to see her husband as helpless, Emilia had to force her attention to their argument and away from the interesting sprawl of his long legs. . . and other parts. . . on the bed.
“I invented the test. Don’t have much better to do these days. If I thought it was of any use, I might write a paper on it some time, but I doubt anyone else cares what’s in their quack medicine.” He watched her in the same way a cat watched a mouse.
“I care,” she said defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. “Apothecaries hand out dangerous chemicals without having any notion of what they do to our bodies. Good food and sunshine can cure ills without quackery.”
His eyes danced with the laughter that had probably helped earn him his nickname. “Ah, now I see, you’re irritable when you’re peckish. I’ve been selfish. I should have brought something up for you. Let me call the innkeeper. They probably have some of their tasty meat pie left over.”
“How do you know I’m hungry?” she asked peevishly, looking away from his knowing gaze.
“Because my sisters become cross if they’re not fed regularly.” He sat up and reached for the bell pull. “I should prove myself useful in some manner.”
Within minutes, he’d summoned food and drink and ordered hot water for both of them.
She wanted to be spiteful and disagree, but he was right—she needed food. And she was the one being unreasonable because she didn’t like him taking charge when she should have been able to do so herself. Grudgingly, she took the chair he pulled out. The meat pie smelled wonderful.
“I am not accustomed to traveling without my maid to deal with servants,” she said stiffly.
“But you are accustomed to making business propositions to strange men?” he asked, settling back on his bed rather than sit across from her. “I’m surmising you simply forget to eat.”
“Well, that, too,” she admitted after swallowing the first delicious bite. It was very mean-spirited of her to object to her husband being attentive. “I have had to fight with men for every bit of advanced education I’ve acquired, so a business proposition isn’t new. Traveling without a retinue is. My family is very large, and there is always someone to go with me.”
“What kind of education must you fight for?” he asked with interest. “It’s not as if any of the universities will allow females.”
“My family is not poor. I have pin money that allows me to hire students and professors who need a supplemental income.” She tasted the ale he’d provided and wrinkled her nose at it.
“You have half a dozen lovely sisters with dowries, and the students were all panting on your doorstep, eager to do anything you asked,” he corrected.
She shrugged. “As I said, I have copious knowledge of available men. Most of them are utterly useless, spineless, or misogynistic beyond all use.” Which was rather why she resented his not being any of these or what she expected at all.
“But a few of my tutors understood the wisdom of introducing me to their textbooks and lecture notes,” she continued in between bites. “Those truly interested in botany helped me with my experimentation techniques. Unfortunately, I have reached the limits of their knowledge. I need a laboratory, a microscope, gardens, and a conservatory that my father can’t provide.”