Temptation In Regency Society: Unmasking the Duke's Mistress. Margaret McPhee

come, Mama. I think it would do you good. And I promise you, nothing will go wrong.’ Arabella felt a shiver of foreboding as soon as the words had left her mouth. She turned to her son, and lifted him on to her knee. ‘What say you, Archie? I thought we might visit Gunter’s for some ices before the apothecary.’

      ‘Oh, can we, Mama?’ His eyes shone with excitement.

      She kissed Archie’s cheek and then her mother’s. ‘Chop chop, then,’ she said with a smile.

      There really was very little chance of something going wrong, she told herself again and again, but that stubborn feeling of unease sat right there in her stomach and refused to shift.

      She would only later learn that the feeling was called instinct and that she should have listened to it.

       Chapter Ten

      ‘I am so glad that you persuaded me to come. It is a lovely day and Archie is having such a fine time.’ Her mother smiled as she and Arabella strolled along arm in arm, with Archie running before them breathless with excitement.

      ‘Ooh, do look at that display, Arabella!’ Mrs Tatton pulled Arabella over to admire the array of perfume bottles in the shop window. ‘All the way from Paris and with matching scented soaps. How lovely.’

      ‘This is the place of which I was speaking to you of—the apothecary who is highly recommended. Gemmell was telling me that he bought some liniment for the stiffness in his joints and it has worked wonders for him. And Cook swore that a tonic brought her sister back to health when she was dreadfully weakened following a fever. I was thinking we could buy some remedy for you, Mama.’

      ‘If you think it would help.’

      ‘There will be no hurt in trying.’ Arabella raised her eyebrows. ‘And perhaps we might treat ourselves to some of that fine French soap while we are on the premises.’

      Mrs Tatton laughed. And when Archie copied her, even though he did not understand what his grandmother was laughing about, Arabella could not help but join in.

      The bell rang as they entered through the door, making the women who were standing in the middle of the shop floor beside a display of glass bottles glance round and notice Arabella and her family. The bottles which the women were inspecting were the same expensive Parisian perfumes as displayed in the shop’s window. On seeing that Arabella was no one that they knew, the ladies ignored her and went back to choosing their perfume. Arabella watched them taking great pains over sniffing the scents that the shop assistant had touched to their hands using a variety of thin glass wands.

      Two of the women were older; Arabella would guess of an age similar to her own mother’s. But they were as haughty as Mrs Tatton was not. One look at their faces and Arabella could not help but draw a less-than-flattering conclusion as to their characters. The third woman was much younger, barely more than a girl. In contrast to the older women, one of whom Arabella was sure was the girl’s mother due to a faint family resemblance, the girl seemed very quiet and eager to please.

      ‘What do you mean, you like the sandalwood, Marianne?’ demanded one of the formidable matrons. ‘It is quite unsuitable for a young lady. Whatever would Sarah say were she to receive that as her birthday gift?’ The matron looked quickly to her companion. ‘Forgive Marianne, Lady Fothergill, she can be such a silly goose at times. I am quite certain that she will admit that the rose fragrance is quite the most appropriate scent for her friend, albeit one of the most expensive choices.’

      Arabella felt a pang of compassion for the girl. Life with a mother like that could not be easy, she thought as she turned her attention back to the apothecary who had arrived at the counter to serve them.

      In the background she could hear the drone of the women’s conversation, but Arabella was not listening. Rather she was concentrating on showing the apothecary her mother’s hands and explaining about her mother’s lungs. He suggested a warming liniment for Mrs Tatton’s joints and a restorative tonic for her lungs, and disappeared off into the back of the shop to prepare them.