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“It is not gossip if it is common knowledge,” Felicity said.
“I am aware that Mrs. Asquith is, like many here, able to change from one Shape to another,” Tabitha said. “His Highness took me into his confidence.” This statement, made by any other in society, would have been delivered with no little pride. Tabitha mentioned it as though it was of no greater consequence than reporting that the coal bin had been filled.
“Miss Barrington has been put in charge of the rehabilitation of His Grace, the Duke of Llewelyn, who now resides in Lowell Close,” Felicity informed them. Beatrice had recognized the duke from her nuptials in Carlton House but knew nothing of his past. “She was on her way to settle there but met us on the road to Arcadia. Her brother, Mr. Timothy Barrington, is our new tutor and has gone on ahead.”
“I was gratified to see Llewelyn lending his aid to your cause,” Tabitha said. “It is promising to see him extend himself. He will not achieve wellness by lurking around the edges of humanity nor ofversipelliansociety.”
“You must know his history, Miss Barrington.” Charlotte’s face was the picture of censure.
“I do, Lady Swinburn, and my heart goes out to him,” Tabitha assured her, “but so does my mind. My intellect tells me the refusal to embrace his new circumstances will not aid his healing.”
“What was done to him was unconscionable,” Charlotte spat. “One cannot fault him for struggling to regain his health.”
“What was done to him was the height of barbarity,” Tabitha agreed. “But I believe your kind tend to collapse into your feelings. No offense intended.”
“I am tempted to take it, Miss Barrington.” Beatrice had never seen Charlotte nonplussed; Tabitha’s forthright persona had that effect on people.
“That is your prerogative, of course.” Tabitha held out the plate of biscuits to Charlotte, who took one out of ingrained habit. “As it is of His Highness. He takes offense with aplomb and frequency.”
“A characteristic common in princes, and in dukes,” Beatrice muttered, and Felicity laughed.
“I shall negotiate the contrast between what I think is required for the benefit of his health, as well as respecting Llewelyn’s choices,” Tabitha said, and Charlotte appeared mollified. “He will be quite the challenge.”
“Oh, indeed,” Felicity said, her voice brimming with amusement. “We are very eager to witness the evolution of Miss Barrington’s plans for His Grace.”
***
A muffled rustle in the underbrush would have eluded ears less acute than those of aversipellis. “Llewellyn, show yourself,” Arthur called as the motley crew of Shapeshifters entered the grove. “You are welcome to join us if you require a formal invitation.”
The rustling stopped, the concealed one poised. There was an explosion of movement, and they heard him flee.
“His reserves were sorely taxed by merely standing in the presence of so many this night,” Georgie said.
“He moves with great speed as a human,” Ben remarked, hackles showing. “I cannot fathom how fluidly he must move as his essential self.”
“You have heard he does not Change?” Georgie asked. The men nodded.
“Does he consciously fight against it?” Arthur could not imagine doing so.
“It is a natural response to his captivity,” Bates said. “And not all of us are as much at home with the animal within as others.”
Arthur perked up at that. Was Bates not in harmony with his wolf? Was that why he was content, earl’s son or no, to be Second to Lowell?
“Miss Barrington will have the care of His Grace’s recuperation,” said Lowell. “It was His Highness’s notion to have my duchess do so, which will not transpire. My wife is rather occupied with her new enterprise. Among other things.”
And what was that smug look on His bloody lupine Grace’s face? Yet another innovation to cast the rest of them in the shade? As if he weren’t setting enough precedents left, right, and center.
“Shall you not engage in the efforts you wish accomplished, Artie,” Georgie said, “or are you content to stand about like a wallflower?”
Arthur threw his coat over a branch to the horror of both Georgie and Alfred. Ben mocked the faces they made behind their backs as he did the same, and Their Royal Highness made his degree of involvement clear by spreading an overlarge handkerchief on a boulder and sitting in a huff. Bates as ever took the middle ground: he removed his coat but folded it with the care of a valet.
Speaking of valets. “How good of you to send me more mouths to feed, Lowell.”
“I did as my wife bid,” Alfred replied, unperturbed, “in honor of her friendship with your wife.”
“And my wife,” Ben added, “is well pleased with the two lads who have the care of our cubs.”
“This talk of wives,” Georgie said. “How tiresome.” Any implication of marital harmony was in the worst taste given the dire state of the prince’s own mating, and Arthur swiftly turned their attention to the task at hand. When he was an Alpha cub, setting a bonfire was one of the first things his father had taught him. Ben and Bates, arms full, lugged branches into the clearing, while Alfred kicked and rolled a large stump forward.
