He barked out a laugh. “A gentleman never tells. What is your favorite?”
She snorted at the word gentleman. “I like a variety. Sometimes ’tis about the season, sometimes about my mood.”
“Ah, the entice-the-customer-to-buy-a-selection answer. Quite good.”
Her lips twisted. “You are quite the cynic, my lord.”
He grinned.
Wandering farther in, he peered at labels. “Where is this shampoo you told me about?”
She pointed at the very back of the store, past displays of goods grouped by fragrance encouraging customers to supplement their purchase of a soap with a shampoo or oil in their favored scent.
He followed her toward it. “Why would you put your best seller at the very back of the store?”
“There is a display in the window, but we get a good many referrals by word of mouth, as well as repeat customers. This way, they must walk by all the other products to get to what they came in for.”
“Excellent. I like it.”
She passed him a few of the best-selling scents—vanilla, lavender, and rose. He sniffed the first bottle. “If I said it was for me, what scent would you recommend?”
“These.” She gestured to a few more plainly labeled products. They were still mostly bought by women but for their husbands, fathers, brothers. Or, she supposed, their lovers.
“Right, then. One of each, please.”
“Ah, do you want to smell them?”
“Are you talking a customer out of buying more?”
“I want customers to trust my recommendations and keep returning, as well as send their friends to me. It does me no good to oversell and then have them not return because they have buyer’s remorse.”
“You have an answer for almost everything. Fine.” He sniffed some more. “These two.”
“My favorites as well.”
His eyes gleamed, and he leaned in. “I shall be sure to use it before I arrive tomorrow afternoon. Beth has invited me for tea to meet the ladies she found for my mother’s care. I dare you to be there.”
****
Evan closed his eyes as the carriage brought him closer to Althea’s house. He should be considering questions for the nurses he was due to meet, but instead, he dwelled on his visit to Althea’s apothecary and whether she’d take his dare.
Walking into the store, he’d smelled her. Oh, there had been dozens of scents lingering in the air. But Althea’s own personal scent, that crisp floral with a touch of pepper or spice, was layered over that amalgamation.
Still annoyed at her for running from Greenborough Park—fromhim—he’d come to London and waited a week for her to accept his offer before losing patience. Though a fortnight had passed since he’d seen her, his need to touch her, to kiss her, had not dissipated. ’Twas an uncomfortable feeling. He was not used to having to woo a lady.
Godsakes, I’m not used to being interested in ladies. More like fallen doves and Sarah’s girls, who understand the game and its rules.
After his first years of society events as the new earl, he’d established a reputation as a rake. He’d flirted and danced, fetched drinks and dropped handkerchiefs, but no one received a second dance or a social call. He had been committed to not committing. No wife or son would have to endure the heartbreak of watching him lose his mind in the next two decades. Despite his indifference, Ton ladies continued to throw their daughters at him, hoping to snare his wealth and title. He’d learned to avoid them and, in fact, spent more time at the demi-monde parties than the Ton fêtes unless he needed to politick.
How is this any different? She is not some deb looking for marriage.
He didn’t know. She wanted money from him with no strings. She didn’t even want sex. On the surface, it appeared easier to manage or even ignore.
Or mayhap his ego was hurt for that very reason.
Damn me, my pride is injured because she doesn’t want my very valuable advice, even freely given.
Despite that, he’d provoked her to attend tea.
