It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers #2)(22)

“I don’t believe it,” Lillian replied grumpily. “Even in the circles that you move in, no one would be so brazen as to talk about such things in public.”

“I beg to differ.” Annabelle gave her a vaguely superior glance. “Married women get to hear much better gossip than unwed girls do.”

“Drat,” Daisy said enviously.

The table fell silent once again as Annabelle’s amused gaze locked with Lillian’s glowering one. To Lillian’s chagrin, she was the first to look away. “Out with it,” Annabelle commanded, with the tremor of a sudden laugh in her voice. “Tell the truth—is Westcliff really so terrible at kissing?”

“Oh, I suppose he’s tolerable,” Lillian admitted grudgingly. “But that’s not the point.”

Evie spoke then, her eyes round with curiosity. “What is the p-point?”

“That Westcliff was driven to it—to kiss a girl he detests, namely me—by the smell of that perfume.” Lillian pointed at the tiny glimmering bottle.

The four girls regarded the vial with awe.

“Not really,” Annabelle said disbelievingly.

“Really,” Lillian insisted.

Daisy and Evie remained raptly silent, looking back and forth between the two of them as if they were viewing a tennis match.

“Lillian, for you, the most practical girl I’ve ever known, to claim that you have a perfume that acts as an aphrodisiac, is the most astonishing—”

“Aphrowhat?”

“A love potion,” Annabelle said. “Lillian, if Lord Westcliff displayed any interest in you, it was not because of your perfume.”

“What makes you so certain?”

Annabelle’s brows lifted. “Has the perfume produced this effect in any other man of your acquaintance?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Lillian admitted reluctantly.

“How long have you worn it?”

“About a week, but I—”

“And the earl is the only man it seems to have worked on?”

“There are other men who will respond to it,” Lillian argued. “They just haven’t had the opportunity to smell it yet.” Seeing her friend’s disbelief, she sighed. “I know how it sounds. I didn’t believe a word that Mr. Nettle said about this perfume, until today. But I promise you, the moment that the earl got a whiff of it…”

Annabelle pinned her with a considering stare, clearly wondering if it could be true.

Evie spoke in the silence. “May I s-see it, Lillian?”

“Of course.”

Reaching for the perfume vial as if it were some highly combustible explosive, Evie unstoppered it, brought it to her whimsically freckled nose, and sniffed. “I don’t f-feel anything.”

“I wonder if it works only on men?” Daisy mused aloud.

“What I’m wondering is,” Lillian said slowly, “if any of you wore the perfume, would Westcliff be as attracted to you as he was to me?” She stared directly at Annabelle as she spoke.

Realizing what she was about to propose, Annabelle wore a look of comical dismay. “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m a married woman, Lillian, and very much in love with my husband, and I haven’t the slightest interest in seducing his best friend!”

“You wouldn’t have to seduce him, of course,” Lillian said. “Just try some of the perfume and then go stand next to him, and see if he notices you.”

“I’ll do it,” Daisy said enthusiastically. “In fact, I propose that we all wear the perfume tonight, and investigate whether it makes us more attractive to men.”

Evie chortled at the idea, while Annabelle rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

Lillian gave her a reckless grin. “There’s no harm in trying it, is there? Consider it a scientific experiment. You’re merely collecting evidence to prove a theory.”

A groan escaped Annabelle’s lips as she watched the two younger girls shake out a few drops of the perfume to adorn themselves with. “This is the silliest thing I’ve ever done,” she commented. “It’s even more absurd than when we played rounders in our drawers.”

“Knickers,” Lillian said promptly, continuing their long-standing debate on the proper name for undergarments.

“Give me that.” With a long-suffering expression, Annabelle held out her hand to receive the vial, and dampened her fingertip with the fragrant elixir.

“Use a little more,” Lillian advised, watching in satisfaction as Annabelle dabbed the perfume behind her ears. “And put some on your neck too.”

“I don’t usually wear perfume,” Annabelle said. “Mr. Hunt likes the smell of clean skin.”

“He may prefer Lady of the Night.”

Annabelle looked appalled. “Is that what this is called?”

“It’s named after a night-blooming orchid,” Lillian explained.

“Oh, good,” Annabelle said sardonically. “I was afraid that it was named after a harlot.”

Ignoring the remark, Lillian took the vial from her. After applying a few drops of the scent to her own throat and wrists, she tucked the vessel back into her reticule and stood from the table. “Now,” she said in satisfaction, glancing at the wallflowers, “let’s go find Westcliff.”