“Wolfsbane… Hemlock…Mandrake…”
Carefully turning pages, exultation bloomed within her as she came up the leaf diagram of Henbane; whoever had drawn this had studied the leaf to the minutia to recreate it on paper.
“Are you my new mother?”
Severely startled at the child’s voice floating up from the foot of the ladder, Ariadne lost her grip on the heavy book and watched in horror as it tipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
Panic flew into her head and heart that she might have damaged a book worth more than anything she had ever owned. “Oh god.”
She tried to scramble down the ladder and, in her haste, missed a rung and slipped. Fright had her pulling back too far, where the ladder tipped over, and Ariadne braced herself for the hard fall—only to land in a cradle of powerful arms.
The second she realized she had not met the floor, and that she was being carried off, Ariadne was too weak with relief to protest at being carried like a sack of grain.
With her face pressed in his chest, the spicy-sweet notes of sandalwood and citrus mingled as heat washed over her. Embarrassment and mortification; of course, it had to be utter, complete humiliation.
What else would it be?
The beast set her on her feet, his face a slab of nothingness. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Her eyes landed on the little girl who looked as innocent as pure, driven snow. Her dark hair mirrored her father’s, but her eyes were light and golden. She rocked on her heels, the tails of the cotton dress and organza petticoat moved with her.
“I— I suppose so, Lady Emily—” she paused, “—but I suppose that rests on you.”
This time, Ariadne deferred to the man standing near them. She wanted to ask him how he had arrived just in time to save her from a folly of her own making, but that could be done later. How did her father want to handle this?
Emily cocked her head to the side, “What do you know about cats?”
“I had a few growing up,” Ariadne replied with a smile. “You do know that you cannot choose a cat? The cat chooses you.”
Pouting, Emily said, “My friend Amelia has a cat, and she does not like me. I want her to like; she has five toes.”
“Does she, now?” Ariadne warmed. “She is an extra special cat, and we’ll have to think really hard about how to get her to like you.”
Her eyes brightened, “You’ll do that?”
“Of course,” Ariadne replied.
Promptly, Emily turned to her father, “I like her.”
From the corner of her eye, Ariadne saw as he swept the book off the floor, and once again, her heart lodged in her throat, “Did I damage it?” She’d feel just awful if she had.
“No more than the other wear and tear it has gone through in the last fifty years.” He flipped open the cover. He looked over at her. “
“You mentioned liking medicinal plants. This is a book on poison,” Duke Holloway said flatly.
“Many poisons can be used for good,” she replied.
“Like removing vexing husbands?” his tone did not shift.
“To some, yes. But to me, it's more of using the numbing properties to good use,” her smile dimpled.
To his child, he said, “Now that you have scared Lady Ariadne, make acquaintances properly and go take your luncheon.”
Emily dipped out a curtsey. “Pleased to meet you, Lady Aria. And I am sorry I frightened you.”
“Ariadne,” she corrected the girl kindly. “And I would stand, but my knees are weak from that fright.”
