“That makes sense,” Lydia said. “Our people began there, though the village has long been abandoned.”
“There is more, Sabine,” Agnes said. “In other sections, he kept mentioning these numbers. I didn’t know what they were at first. I’m not certain he knew what they meant, but he recorded them several times.” Her eyes met Sabine’s. “Your birthday.”
Sabine frowned. “What does my birthday have to do with anything?”
“It is coming up,” Calliope said.
“When?” Max asked.
“Next week I will turn twenty-five,” Sabine said. “But I don’t understand the significance.”
“I think it might be a timeline,” Agnes said.
“Or a deadline,” Max suggested.
“You think the prophecy is somehow attached to my birthday?” she asked.
“Perhaps it is merely a coincidence,” Lydia said. “Or the numbers are something else. An address or a location of some sort.”
“Perhaps,” Agnes said. “But I don’t think so. I just want you to be careful.” She squeezed Sabine’s hand.
“Of course,” Sabine said. “I’m always careful.”
Max rose to his feet. “You should go pack.”
Sabine nodded. “I have much to do to ready for the journey.”
He held his teacup up in a salute. “I hear Lulworth Cove is beautiful this time of year.”
Shortly after breakfast, Sabine left with Calliope for the shop. It was quite evident that it was far too dangerous for Agnes to venture outside, so they had decided to take turns packaging the remedies for the villagers and handling the local patrons. Sabine and Max had plans to leave London later this afternoon, so she had taken the opportunity to help her aunts, and to get some much-needed distance from Max. The more time she spent with him, the more she craved his affections. She was on a slippery slope, and she knew it.
Sabine sat at the back table, measuring and combining the necessary ingredients, all but the elixir, which Agnes would add later. Spending so much time with Max was weakening her defenses, tempting her to think of not merely what her flesh wanted, but what her heart wanted as well. One night in his arms hadn’t been enough, as she’d foolishly thought. But with Max came more than simply passion. No, there were faint whispers from her heart, asking,What about love?
She shoved those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. The shop was rather busy this morning, with the tiny bells at the door ringing again and again. But Calliope had been taking care of the customers.
Calliope stepped around the curtain. “Sabine, there’s a man out here. Says he won’t leave until he speaks with you.”
Sabine finished adding the rose oil to her potion, then closed the jar. She stood up from the table and made her way out front.
She entered the shop and immediately spotted the man who’d requested her, as he was the only male in the room. She watched him examine every product on the display. He opened the bottles and jars and sniffed the contents, and he held the glass containers up to the light. The poor soul looked utterly lost, no doubt searching for a gift for his wife, or worse, sent on an errand for her. Still, that was something her aunts were perfectly capable of assisting him with.
“May I help you with something?” she asked.
His frame was slight, and he had thinning hair. He eyed her from behind his spectacles, and his mouse-colored mustache twitched. “I would like to speak to the proprietor of this establishment,” he said, his voice pinched and nasal.
“Yes, my aunt mentioned that. Are you looking for a product for your wife?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “Are you the proprietor?” he asked. He clutched a satchel to his chest.
The back of her neck prickled with awareness. Sabine took a deep breath. There was no need to automatically assume this man was the Chosen One, and it did seem rather improbable considering how ineffectual he appeared.
While he might make a worthy opponent against some women, it seemed unlikely she would not be able to fend him off. And both Madigan and Phinneas were strong men, certainly large enough to have defeated him. No, this man could not be the Chosen One.
“I am the proprietor. Is there a problem?”
He smiled at her. At least, she suspected that slight twitch was his version of a smile. The lasciviousness of that one small movement sent fresh chills across her arms. She rubbed them and hugged them tight to her body.
He picked up a jar of the Tobias Miracle Crème and held it up. “Is this an old family recipe?”
