Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(29)
“I have done the research and study that most apothecaries have not,” she insisted. “I have read everything available, tested, experimented, and know what works and what does not. I am trying to learn why things work and better ways of administering medicines, which is why I need a laboratory. If I had been trained by a male apothecary, I would simply have been taught how to measure and mix ingredients according to whatever recipe book he uses. And most of those are so outdated as to be laughable.”
Outdated Dare understood. Horses and wagons and herbal medicines were outdated. The future was in steam engines and minerals. But he knew when he was outnumbered. With a determined interest in sharing his bedchamber with a willing wife, he sipped his tea and just listened to their audacious plans. He prayed Emilia did not mean to invest her funds in this losing proposition, but he knew better than to mention that as well.
In fact, he might choke on all the things he wasn’t saying. But his bride had an uncanny way of knowing when he was losing his strength. She rose and offered their farewells, welcoming their new friends to visit their hovel soon so they could make plans.
“I am turning into an old curmudgeon,” Dare grumbled as he handed her into the carriage and pulled himself in like a weakling.
“Is it illness that turns people into curmudgeons, not age?” she asked distractedly. “Sir Harry would grumble and carp and poke fun at the servants, but I thought it was because he was older and wiser than everyone else.”
“Illness and wisdom,” he decided, dropping into the cushions with relief. “I think I should be allowed to spend my final months pointing out the fallacies of everyone around me.”
She snickered. His lady wife snickered. Dare turned a cynically lifted brow in her direction. “You laugh. I am very wise. I married you, did I not?”
That brought an outright chuckle. He removed her confounded hat so he could see her smile. “You don’t smile enough,” he told her. “See, there’s my curmudgeonly wisdom for today.”
“I think I would like it very much if we could be foolish for the rest of the day instead of wise. I feel as if I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. Normally, I like feeling worthy, but today, I want to laugh and feel joy. What does your wisdom make of that, my Lord Curmudgeon?”
“That my lady needs kissing.” Which he proceeded to do, dragging her against his side and planting kisses all over her cheek and down her swan-like throat until she squealed.
At least he still knew how to woo a woman.
The wagon with their boxes had arrived while they were gone. Their one footman and two drivers had unloaded everything into the cobwebbed parlor, among the discarded linens and spiders. Emilia studied the disarray in exhaustion. She had never fully realized how much she had relied on her mother’s efficient staff.
Her husband wrapped his arm around her waist and surveyed the dusty stacks with a chuckle. She didn’t feel any fever pouring off of him. She really needed to study why Dare’s disease didn’t pain her by touching as others did.
When she wasn’t consumed by lust, however, she could sense his weariness, if not his pain. He shouldn’t be worrying about carting heavy boxes about. She really needed to take notes about how the consumption affected him. His symptoms didn’t seem to quite match what she’d read—which wasn’t unusual. Medical science was imprecise at best, and her understanding leaned toward herbs and not anatomy.
“Do we open the crates methodically one at a time, or just rip them open willy-nilly in search of what we need at the moment?” he asked.
“We do neither right now,” she said. “We will dress for dinner and see what our new cook has prepared for us out of thin air, although I do hope our pantry supplies have also arrived.”
He tugged one of the straying strands of hair she hadn’t adequately pinned. “Dress for dinner? In this hovel? Why?”
“Because that is what one does?” she asked, never having thought about it.
“This one doesn’t,” he declared. “Why should we not start off as we mean to carry on?”
As she meant to carry on, since he wouldn’t necessarily be here to support her in this outrageousness in a year from now. The notion of dealing with all this by herself was suddenly overwhelming, and a little more heart-breaking than she’d envisaged.
She had always assumed once she married, she’d simply move into her great-grandfather’s familiar home with everything being exactly the same. She had not really even worked a husband into the picture, assuming he’d go his own way. But these past days had shattered that fantasy. She hadn’t wanted to rely on Dare, but she had been, because she was so accustomed to having family with her. Once he was gone. . . She would have to carve an entirely new existence all on her own. She took a deep breath to suppress her panic and organize her thoughts.
“Since my clothes are somewhere among all those trunks,” she decided, “I suppose I can wear the same gown this evening. But we do have to maintain a level of civilization once we are in a position to expect company. And I still really must wash and straighten up before dinner.” She turned pointedly toward the stairs, walking away from his. . . unsettling. . . arm.
“Shouldn’t your maid be down here sorting through all this, looking for your trunks?” Dare asked, following on her heels, emanating masculine energy and disturbing her mind.