Night Storm by Tracey Devlyn Read Free Book Online Page B

down to business?” Mr. Buchanan asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
    “Indeed, sir.” She peered down at the large sheet of paper on the table.
    “I’m considering opening a second apothecary shop, in London.”
    Charlotte’s smile faltered. “So far from home? Why not Glasgow?” She knew why, of course. He’d often mentioned his desire to expand his business into London.
    “Because I don’t have anyone I can trust in Glasgow to oversee the shop.”
    “And you do in London?”
    “Yes—you.”
    “Me?” Her arrested gaze shot between Buchanan’s and Lachlan’s. Both wore soft, encouraging, anticipatory expressions. “I already have a shop of my own.”
    “In Covent Garden,” her mentor clarified. “My shop would be located in the heart of Mayfair, on Bond Street, where every person of consequence and money travels.”
    Some of the tension left Charlotte. “Bond Street already has an apothecary shop. Mr. Hallwood’s been there for years.”
    “He’ll be retiring in a few months, and no one in his family has an interest in taking over the business. So he has agreed to sell it to me.”
    She nodded toward the paper. “What do you have there?”
    “Plans for expansion.” Buchanan smoothed his hand over the parchment. “I’ve purchased the empty storefront next to Hallwood’s and plan to tear down the wall between the two.”
    “To do what? I’ve been in Mr. Hallwood’s shop. He has everything you need.”
    “But not everything we desire,” Lachlan said quietly.
    Charlotte stared at her former chess partner. An undercurrent of tension pulsed around him, belying the calm, still figure he presented. From the moment he’d made his presence known, Lachlan hadn’t taken his eyes off her. The intensity of his regard made her feel…uncomfortable.
    “I want to create an environment not dissimilar to what many experience while taking the waters in Bath,” Buchanan cut in, severing the uneasy connection between her and Lachlan. “Rather than have customers come in and pick up their medicines and leave. I want them to dally, linger, enjoy all that we have to offer.”
    “What else will you offer?”
    “Anything that promotes individual well-being. A reading nook, a cup of tea, an herbal neck rub.”
    “It sounds lovely.”
    “I got the idea from you.”
    “Me?”
    “Your father mentioned how welcome you make your customers feel by always having sweets and sample sachets on the counter and giving them a place to sit and read the newssheet while you’re finishing their order. I simply expanded upon your idea.”
    “My father told you all that?” She hadn’t realized he’d even noticed the small improvements she’d made.
    “He’s very proud of you, Charlotte. Your mother would be too, if she were here.”
    The backs of her eyes burned. From time to time, she wondered what her mother would think of her handiwork. If not for Jane Fielding’s single-minded determination to send her daughter to Buchanan, Charlotte’s present situation might have been vastly different. For one thing, she might have married Cameron by now, with a baby in their near future.
    She tried to envision that other life. With Cameron. But the image was hazy, disjointed, out of reach.
    “Where did you go, lass?” Lachlan asked near her ear.
    “Pardon?”
    “Your thoughts took you far away.”
    Embarrassed, Charlotte glanced at her mentor, who appeared more curious than insulted. “Forgive me. I’m somewhat preoccupied today.”
    Concern lined Buchanan’s face. “Is everything all right?”
    “Yes.” She searched her mind for a viable reason for her daydreaming, one that did not involve Cameron and babies. “I treated a gentleman for a rather nasty stab wound and continue to second-guess my efforts.” She shook her head. “Please forgive my inattention. Let us discuss your plans for expansion.”
    “Is the gentleman you treated on the mend?” Buchanan asked.
    “Slowly, yes.”
    He smiled. “Then