A Touch of Mistletoe (22 page)

"Oh?" Potsworth asked.

Kingston motioned for Eliza to be off, seeing by the strain at her eyes and increased fidgeting that she was tired and in need of a break from people, though her demeanor never faltered. He really would be sad when she was gone. She smiled gratefully, nodded to the other two, and slipped away to the back.

"Why is mistletoe associated with love, then?" Potsworth pressed when she'd gone. "It's always touted as a love charm, token, and so forth. All I've ever heard my whole life. Learned most of it from my grandmother." He lifted the counter partition, motioned Kingston and Hux through, then dropped it behind him and stole one of the many stools scattered about the work area.

Stripping down to his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, Kingston left the rest of his clothes on his desk. He rolled up his sleeves as he returned to the work area, pulling out a ring of keys and crossing to the far wall where locked cabinets were lined up beneath well-stocked shelves. "Mistletoe is what potionmakers call a master component, or a foundation component. If you know the master component, you have at least some idea of what the potion is meant to do." He unlocked the cabinet he needed and pulled out several glass jars filled with dried plants, flowers, and herbs, along with several vials of colorful liquids.

He carried it all back to his worktable, where he carefully arranged them before pulling on long work gloves that covered his arms up to his elbows. Hux sat on a stool nearby, hands folded in his lap, looking very much like he would like to be doing something but had no idea where to start. Kingston smiled at him, hoping he managed to be reassuring. He resumed speaking as he went over to one of the heating stations and got a fire going. "We have a saying in potionmaking: one part good, two parts strong, three parts deadly. Whenever a potion calls for three parts of something, be wary—especially when it's something as powerful as mistletoe. In traditional witchcraft, mistletoe means
I surmount all obstacles
, and is meant precisely for that—to overcome something.

"That is the original reason that mistletoe is so popular during Frost Days. At the very end of the year, as we turn into the new, mistletoe was hung to offer strength to everyone in the household. Two parts mistletoe over the front door to
lend strength to surmount all obstacles
to everyone who passed under it
.
Over the years, it's become distorted to focus exclusively on love." His mouth tightened. "In the case of this particular potion, it is overcoming Lord Oswald's true feelings for Elmhurst and forcing them to become 'love'."

Hux looked like he was going to be ill. Potsworth looked no better.

"You begin to see why potionmakers despise the idea that mistletoe is taken to mean 'lucky in love' by most," Kingston said quietly. "In point of fact, there are many kinds of love spells, the same there are many kinds of love. 'Love potion' is actually a
class
of potions. The particular potion given to Lord Oswald is what everyone thinks of as a love potion, but the correct name for it is False Heart potion. To counter that potion, I have to make a Broken Heart potion. And to help heal the lingering effects of it, we will also have to administer a Healing Heart potion over the course of several days. Now, Chief, I am about to work. I will need to concentrate, so please do not interrupt unless it is absolutely vital, or you must ask something to make certain your observation is properly recorded."

Potsworth and Hux both nodded, and Kingston set to work, first pulling out the components he needed. All love potions included mistletoe. The difference was that the good, legitimately useful ones required 1-2 parts mistletoe. Only the illegal ones required three parts.

A broken heart potion was two parts each of mistletoe, bittersweet nightshade, and apple blossom, and one part each persicaria, butterfly weed, and red balsam. Turning them all into a fine powder, he tipped them into a heavy porcelain bowl, and added purified water, binding solution, tincture of sunlight, and a small measure of activating oil. He stirred and stirred, then carried the bowl over to the heating station.

On top of the small stove, the heavy metal bowl full of water was steaming, not quite boiling. Kingston set the larger porcelain bowl atop it and resumed stirring. Slowly the mixture began to bubble, turning from a muddy brown to a muddy red then gradually to a bright jewel red with ribbons of pearlescent pink.

Removing the bowl from the heat he turned to his work station, continuing to stir all the while so the potion would not cool too quickly and wind up lumpy, or worse, seize.

His arm ached by the time the potion was cool enough for him to leave off the stirring. The bowl had been just over half full when he'd begun, but the potion that remained filled not even a quarter of it.

Leaving it to finish cooling, he put out the fire, then stored away all the components and tidied up his workstation. By the time he was finished, the potion was ready for the final stage. He poured it into a new, clear glass bowl and added more purified water, a small measure of simple syrup, and a few drops of vanilla. He stirred it all together, then poured it carefully into a glass bottle and sealed the bottle with a cork.

He set the bottle on the counter. "This is the broken heart potion. Now I must make the healing heart potion, which will take a bit longer since I must make enough to be administered twice daily for ten days."

"Carry on, Master Maker," Potsworth said.

Kingston nodded, pulled on a new set of work gloves, and started again. The healing heart potion was two parts each mistletoe and lily of the valley, one part each cranberry, white oak, liverwort, and narcissus. The broken heart had taken him about an hour to make; the healing heart took just over two. When he was finished, a larger glass bottle holding a pale pink, swirled-with-yellow potion sat beside the red one.

"You make it look so easy," Hux said, joining him at the counter, lightly touching the bottles before letting his fingers fall to rest on the back of Kingston's hand. "Which means it must not be easy at all."

"Fifteen years of schooling and working, but I had a head start from working in my mother's kitchen. A childhood of cooking is a good foundation for a lifetime of potionmaking." Kingston smiled, and Hux's quiet smile brightened. Kingston started to lean in, but a soft cough from Potsworth reminded him of where he was and what they were about. He withdrew but did not miss the faint disappointment that flickered across Hux's face.

"The secretary sought out his lover to stop a love potion, how quaint," Potsworth drawled.

Hux flushed. Kingston cast Potsworth a quelling look.

Smiling in reply, Potsworth swept an arm toward the door. "Shall we go speak with the esteemed Lord Oswald and have done with this matter? At least the snow will keep Elmhurst from making a run for it."

Kingston nodded and knelt to pull out a box from the many stacked on the shelves beneath the counter, then stood and settled the bottles in the special, cushioned velvet dents. He closed and locked the box, tucking the key into his waistcoat. "Shall we?"

When they were all bundled up again, he led the way out the front of the shop, locking the door before they slowly trekked through the snow and rapidly descending dark. Thankfully, the location of his shop meant they were at the perfect starting point for almost everything, and Lord Oswald's house, while a reasonable distance, was not as far away as it could have been.

It still took them nearly two hours, though that was partly due to a necessary break to thaw and regain their strength. They finally reached Oswald's handsome, stately townhouse just as the hall clock began to chime eight o'clock. A footman came hurrying in and helped them out of their sodden, snow-encrusted coats. "Master Huxtable, we were beginning to fear you would not return. Lord Oswald has been asking after you every half hour. Dinner is set for nine o'clock."

"Dinner shall not be happening," Hux replied. "Where is Lord Oswald?"

"In his reading room."

"Thank you, Jim. Could we trouble the kitchens to make up some hot toddies? I'm certain Master Lockwood and Chief Potsworth would appreciate not being half-frozen, and Mrs. Penny makes the best toddies."

"That she does," Jim agreed with a smile. "And she is always happy to make whatever you wish. I'll bring them straight along."

Hux led them through the house, fussing with his clothes, straightening his cravat, and smoothing his hair as they walked, until they came to a door that was half-open, the soft sound of a tinkling music box drifting out of it. "Is there anything special we must do?" he asked quietly.

Shaking his head, Kingston replied, "No, only tell him and administer the first potion. This is not going to be pleasant."

"It would have been vastly more unpleasant later." Hux nodded to himself, drew a breath, and let it out slowly, then pushed the door open and strode in. "Good evening, my lord."

Lord Oswald looked up from the book he'd been scowling at, messy black hair falling in his face. He pushed it aside impatiently, closed his book with a snap, and tossed it next to him on the settee. "Huxtable, it's about bloody time you returned. Where the hell have you been and why do you have Harold and some stranger with you? Did you deliver my note? Will Lord Elroy be joining me for dinner tonight?"

"No, my lord, he will not be," Hux said quietly. "I have something to tell you."

Oswald scowled, an expression that did not suit his handsome face. He leaned back against the settee and folded his well-muscled arms across his broad chest, dark green eyes flicking between the three of them before settling on Hux. "Say it then, man."

Drawing himself up, matching Oswald's scowl with a determined look, Hux said, "I believe Lord Elmhurst drugged you with a love potion. I went today to see a potion master today who confirmed it."

The impatient look slid from Oswald's face, replaced by confusion, dismay—betrayal. "What. You cannot mean that. Why would you say such a thing to me, Hux?"

"Because it's true," Hux said. "You're my best friend, and I would never dare say such a thing unless I knew it to be absolutely true. We've done everything we can to verify it, and I am sorry that it proved to be true."

Hurt and dread filled Oswald's face, driving away every other emotion on his face. "Hux…"

"Please, Oz," Hux said softly, but with steel.

Oswald shook his head, though it seemed more from shock than refusal. "I…"

"My lord," Kingston cut in quietly, stepping forward to set the box on the table beside Oswald's settee. "I know it hurts to hear, and you prefer not to believe it, but I would not be here if I was not willing to stake my reputation on it—my
life
on it. And I do stake my life on it, my lord."

"Not even Elmhurst would do something so cruel," Oswald said. "He's been far too kind and…" He trailed off, scowling at the floor. "No, I cannot believe it of him. The man holds me too dear to be so malicious."

"Well, no harm can come from drinking a potion handmade by me, under the careful eye of the Chief of Lords and your dearest friend. If something is amiss, there are witnesses aplenty to see that I never make potions again. What harm can come from trusting a friend and setting his mind at ease?" Kingston replied opened the box and pulled out the broken heart potion. Uncorking it, he held it out. "Drink, my lord, and put Master Huxtable's mind at ease."

Oswald glowered at each of them in turn, lingering on Harold and settling on Hux. "For Hux, then, though I think you've all gone quite mad. I think I would know if I had been given a love potion." He accepted the bottle and drank it down in one long swallow, licked traces from his lips as he stared at the empty bottle as though it was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. "That is the best tasting potion I've ever had. Usually they taste quite noxious."

"A potion that tastes poorly was made poorly." Kingston pulled out the second bottle but retained it, tucking the box under his other arm as he rejoined Hux, giving Oswald space.

Only a few minutes later, Oswald slowed, then stopped in the middle of rambling on about his plans for the holiday. The expression on his face said that someone he trusted had thrust a knife into his stomach. Then he looked like he wanted to be ill.

"We'll leave you alone, my lord," Kingston said quietly as Oswald began to cry. He motioned to Potsworth, whose gaze was locked on Oswald, and he looked almost as gut-torn. Taking his arm, Kingston dragged him away, leaving Oswald and Hux alone.

Out in the hall, Potsworth immediately opened the satchel he had carried with him and pulled out the paperwork, filling out his portions and signing the bottom of the page with a flourish. "I'll need Lord Oswald's report, but under the circumstances, it's allowed to wait a few days." They could just hear the muffled sounds of Oswald's sobbing. "Fucking bastard, I will see him hanged for this and every other crime he's committed. If I have my way about it, I'll bring his father down with him, see if I don't." He glanced at the closed door, worry, sadness, and something like longing flickering over his face. "He will be all right?"

"Yes," Kingston said. "Especially as he has such a good friend to support him. Give him a few days, Chief, and I suspect another friendly face will be welcome. If you wanted to check on him, that is."

Potsworth nodded and stuffed all the paperwork back into his bag. "I am off to arrest Elmhurst. I'll send round a note in a few days to catch you up on matters if you like. You'll probably be called into the preliminaries, anyway. Lockwood, I know that name. Same Lockwood that owns the restaurant across town?"

"The very same," Kingston said with a smile. "Though you'll probably know the name better someday when my nephew completes his schooling to become an officer. My aunt wants him to apprentice at the headquarters so I'll be near to hand to look after him. He's a good lad."

Potsworth matched the smile, extended his hand. "I'll make a note. Pleasure to meet you and work with you, Master Lockwood."

Kingston shook his hand, clapped him on the arm. "Kingston, please. I'll look forward to your note. Merry Frost, Chief."