Nicholas imagined himself unrolling her stockings one by one, hanging them up by the mantel with care, then slowly unbuttoning her—
“Good plan,” he said hoarsely.
Now that the overhang of her roof protected them from the rain, perhaps it was time to open his other coat pocket.The one without ornithology.
He shook the rain from his hand and pulled out a small, brown-paper package.
Her eyes widened.“What is—”
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly.“Open it later.When you’re not busy.”
“I will be stuck in my laboratory the next few days,” she said with a sigh.“I’ve so much work to do.”
He nodded.“I won’t bother you.”
“You can if you want,” she said softly, then slipped inside her cottage and shut the door.
Nicholas raked a shaking hand through his soggy hair.Apparently, he’d lost his hat at some point and hadn’t even noticed.All his attention had been on Penelope.He reached out to touch the knocker, then shoved his hands back into his pockets.
His whole life, he had limited far more than his interactions in an attempt to avoid becoming attached.He’d limited his hopes, his emotions, his happiness.Now look at him.
Clutching his coat, he turned from her door and stepped back out into the rain.His chest pounded.It was too late to stay safe.
He was in very, very deep trouble.
Chapter 10
Penelope carefully allowed a single drop of liquid to fall from one flask to another.
Duchesswas nearly perfect.All she was adding now were flourishes.Floral notes above and beyond the underlying chemistry to mask science with sweetness.She inhaled the final aroma and smiled.
Ladies would try a perfume because it smelled nice.They would become repeat clients because it worked.
Since she’d begun testingDuchessherself, Penelope had noticed a distinct shift in her interactions with gentlemen in her community.Eye contact, where before there was none.Greetings that lasted longer thanhow do you do.Attention from a certain charming scoundrel she couldn’t keep from her mind.
Everything about him was seductive.
She slid a glance to the package Nicholas had given her the day before.It sat unopened next to herbain marieand notebook.A brown paper temptation, when she ought to be working.Her fingers twitched.She wasn’t a silly, rake-obsessed chit like the ladies he was used to.
Of course she could wait to complete a respectable day’s work before opening a simple gift.Besides, it wasn’t as if she were expecting romance.
Penelope turned back to her flask and adjusted the flame.Maintaining the proper volume was so troublesome.She could measure a given amount of liquid into a tube, but wouldn’t know with certainty how much had evaporated unless she stopped the experiment to measure, at which point—
An unbidden memory heated her cheeks.In a fit of extreme non-coquettishness, she had complained to Nicholas about that very subject just the other day.She set down her tools and buried her face in her hands.Was it any wonder the man had other things to do?
A choked laugh escaped her throat.Nicholas had no doubt stopped listening the moment he realized “flask” had nothing to do with whiskey.Literally any other woman in Christmas would show him a more interesting time.Penelope’s idea of excitement was Dalton’s argument for atomic theory based on measurable mass.
Well, that was the test, wasn’t it?Not if she could catch a man using artifice and feminine wiles, but if she could maintain a rake’s attention whilst being utterly herself.
With a little help fromDuchess.
She stared in frustration at the orange flame flickering beneath the vial before her.A strange unrest filled her.Using science to incite a man’s passions was all well and good.Indeed, beforeDuchess, she’d never incited more than a yawn.
But she had begun to want more than passion.More than biology.Her chest tightened.She wanted Nicholas to understand her.And like what he saw.
“Imbecile,” she muttered under her breath.“Perfumes aren’t magic.”
She had to stay logical.Rational.Calm.Patient.Soon the trial would be over.He would return home; she would return to her laboratory.Who cared if—
