Herrick, Ellen - The Forbidden Garden by Herrick Ellen

Herrick, Ellen - The Forbidden Garden by Herrick Ellen

Author:Herrick, Ellen [Herrick, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-02-13T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 12

Thistle

It was remarkable how the excitement Poppy felt about her discovery melted away when Sorrel whirled around and pinned her with those sharp eyes.

“Look, it was just a little experiment,” she said. “What’s important is what I found with Gabe.”

“What’s important, Poppy,” Sorrel said, making the name Poppy sound like shrapnel, “really important, is that you are fooling around with something that could backfire.”

Poppy thought that was exactly what Sorrel was doing, actually. And her father, come to that. And, oh, Andrew as well since he’d plunged headlong into a romance with Sorrel. She was about to point that out when she recalled an important detail.

“Hey,” she said, pointing at Sorrel. “You said it was for heartburn.”

“For all I know it is,” Sorrel said. “Or Patience has made me something else entirely, so what were you thinking sneaking off with it?”

“Is this true, Poppy?” Stella asked. “Did you nab this remedy, whatever it is?”

Andrew saw his opening.

“Excuse me, but we’re not talking about someone nicking the last piece of cake,” he said. “Sorrel has hinted at how powerful her sister’s remedies are, and now it appears that I am to find out for myself.”

Sorrel was just preparing her answer when Andrew began to laugh.

“I wish you could see your face, Sorrel,” he hooted then he looked at Poppy. “Oh come now, I am unchanged,” he said. “No, hold on,” Andrew put his hand on his stomach and considered, “My digestion has been quite efficient, but that’s about it.”

The three women looked at Andrew with a mixture of concern and, in Sorrel’s case, dismay. She was the only one who knew exactly how effective Patience’s remedies were. If Heart’s Ease was what Poppy assumed, then anything Andrew felt for Sorrel was suspect. If, on the other hand, it was indeed a heartburn soother then, well, then Sorrel had no idea why she was so afraid.

“If I promise to stop channeling Lucrezia Borgia, can I tell you all what I found?” Poppy asked.

Andrew reached to stroke Sorrel’s hair, to tell her with touch that if he’d been enchanted in some way, he was grateful, but Sorrel shook her head.

“Go on then, Poppy,” she said and stepped back, leaving Andrew’s hand in midair. “Show us what’s in that book of yours.”

Something that seemed very like the garden chill stole over Andrew when Sorrel withdrew. And then he felt the rising of his old bitterness. For a moment he felt the shameful pleasure of believing that he was right all along: There was no one who could make him care again and he was a fool to have even let Sorrel try.

For Sorrel’s part, she required some time to measure Andrew’s feelings for her, to weigh them in her hands and heart and calculate whether what had sprung up between them was enchanted by Patience or by each other. And then she had no idea what might happen. But right now Poppy was talking, and Sorrel needed to listen so she turned her attention away from Andrew and let the murmur of the words resolve into a story.



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