Read A Lesson in Chemistry With Inspector Bruce for Free Online

the jars in Rose & Company were topped by exotic finials, and the colored waters—in violet and amber, crimson and azure—were much more sophisticated than anything the average chemist shop would display.
    “My word, this is impressive.” He followed her through the near-empty store as the wall clock chimed six times—closing time for most of the shops in the district.
    “Mother fancies herself a retail display specialist. Each week, she makes a study of Harrod’s windows and often models our displays on theirs.”
    He briefly perused a glass-fronted cabinet. There wasn’t a speck of dust in or on the display case. Under the glass, he observed a clever arrangement of soaps, intricately wrapped in pastel tissues. “I imagine one pays half again as much for a plaster from Rose and Company than another pharmacy,” he remarked.
    “Double.” Fiona tossed a smile over her shoulder. “But then, Father’s plasters don’t blister the skin.”
    At the back of the shop, a middle-aged woman with the same dark ash-blond hair as Fiona’s returned a square-shaped drawer into a cabinet filled with square-shaped drawers.
    “Is that you, Fiona? Remind your father to order more star anise, would you, dear? And—” A pleasant-looking woman turned around and stepped back with a start. “So sorry, I thought it was just my daughter. May I help you?”
    “The gentleman is not a customer—per se.” Fiona leaned over the counter. “Where’s Father?”
    “Washing up, dear.” Mother lifted her pince-nez to her nose, for a better look.
    “This is my teacher, Mr. Archibald Bruce.” Fiona stepped to one side. “Mr. Bruce, my mother, Mrs. Evelyn Rose.”
    “Mrs. Rose.” He reached out and received her mother’s ladylike limp hand. Fiona shuddered.
    “Mr. Bruce is my instructor for the next six weeks.” Fiona smiled as sweetly as she could. “I’ve invited him to supper.”
    “Supper! Yes, indeed.” Mother’s gaze darted about the pharmacy. “It would be our pleasure, Mr. Bruce. Fiona, why don’t you show Mr. Bruce upstairs, while I finish up here?”
    Fiona led him into the back of the shop and up the stairs to a landing that opened onto a pleasant parlor. She took her book bag and set it on the stair leading up to what he assumed were the sleeping quarters. “You can leave those here.” She pointed to the vestibule. He stacked his texts, his seating chart, and, lastly, his hat on the entry table.
    “Please, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Bruce.” She clasped her hands in front of her and nodded toward the reception area. Archie wandered about the darkened room, stopping at a wall sconce. “Mind if I light this?”
    “Not at all, sir.”
    He struck a safety match. “Shall we dispense with the formalities, outside the classroom?” He turned the key and the lamp hissed to life and light. “Call me Archie or Arch—whichever you prefer.”
    Fiona smiled her impish smile. “Not Archibald?”
    He shook out the match. “Only Granny calls me Archibald.” He gestured to a large settee facing the hearth. “Sit with me—?”
    She took a seat in a corner of the divan and angled toward him. “You must call me Fiona or Fee—if you’d like.”
    “Not Aphrodite?” He flirted with her shamelessly. He had not trifled like this—with a young woman—in a very long time. She positively brought out the devil in him. It had been all work for well over a year, starting up the lab. Perhaps it was time for a bit of play.
    A pretty blush swept over her cheeks. “No one calls me that—ever.”
    “I suppose Aphrodite should be saved for a special occasion.” And the occasion he was thinking of could not be shared in mixed company. Archie inhaled a breath. He was not exactly sure what was going on between them, but it was wonderfully exhilarating and oddly familiar. As if he had sat in this parlor, pleasantly aroused by Fiona Rose, all his life.
    She cleared her throat. “Do you take something before supper? A relaxer?