You Only Love Once by Caroline Linden Page B

She walked around one of the makeshift tables to see what he was doing. There was a small fire crackling in the iron pot, she realized, and he was feeding splinters of wood into it to keep it burning. Up close, the steam coming from the bottle had a greenish cast to it. “What is in the bottle?” she asked with some trepidation. If Avery had him up here brewing poisonous potions…
    â€œNothing, yet. It is an experiment. I hope it will distill into a liquid capable of producing great quantities of smoke, such as this, when a salt is dropped into it.” He waved his hand over the bottle, dispersing the vapor in a thick swirl toward her. It had a slightly mossy scent, but was relatively cool and hung in the air far longer than she would have expected.
    â€œHow curious,” she said. He just grinned at her again, then went back to feeding his fire. He was a young man, younger than Avery, she guessed, his cheeks smooth and unlined. She thought again of the brand on his arm; Mr. Avery had admitted the man had been a slave, and he had the accent of the West Indies. “ Quel âge avezvous? ” she asked on impulse.
    â€œ Vingt-quatre ans ,” he replied without looking up. Only twenty-four. “I was born in Saint-Domingue, before the revolution there. Mr. Avery plucked me from a group of slaves to be executed. He persuaded the army captain charged with killing the slaves that he would like the joy of killing a Negro himself. When the captain turned his back,Mr. Avery nailed me into a barrel and put me on his ship.”
    â€œHow daring,” she said shortly. And how rash. If Avery attempted anything like that on this assignment…
    â€œYour pardon—that was Nathaniel’s father I spoke of,” Mr. Chesterfield said. “Nathaniel is but a few years older than I am.”
    It was evident from his voice that the young black man revered the Avery family—perhaps with good reason. She looked around at the contents of the room. There could be poisons in the bottles and gunpowder in the kegs. What on earth was Avery planning to do with it all? Or was he just ready to “improvise” some sort of explosion? “And is the son so daring as the father?” she asked evenly.
    This time he laughed, a rich, rolling sound of pure amusement. “More so. He is still here, is he not?”
    Angelique raised her brow at him. “Do I understand I am what he must brave?”
    â€œNo,” he said somberly, although his eyes twinkled. “It is Mademoiselle Lisette one must fear.”
    She had to smother a smile at the unexpected reply. “Have you crossed her, then?”
    â€œNot deliberately. She is too delicate a lady to stand my experiments, though.”
    Lisette had stitched up wounds, served as a watch while Angelique broke into houses, and spied among other servants. She knew how to engineer a dress so it would accommodate all manner of weapons without destroying the line, and she was willing to undertake any job Angelique asked of her. Lisette was no more a delicate lady than Angelique was. “What are you making?”
    â€œSmoke.”
    â€œI believe you have succeeded.” A breeze from the window had blown more of the bottle’s emission toward her, and she waved her hand to dispel it.
    He grinned again. “Partly.”
    Angelique realized he wasn’t going to tell her, and that it didn’t much matter to her. “As long as you are not going to cause an explosion or poison any of us, neither Lisette nor I have any objection,” she said aloud. “If Mr. Avery returns, please tell him I would like to speak to him.”
    â€œI will, Madame.” He sprang to his feet and bowed very properly. “It was a pleasure to see you.”
    She left the attic and went downstairs. In her room she rang the bell, and Lisette appeared a few moments later. “What is Mr. Chesterfield doing upstairs?” she asked her maid