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In fairness, Tabitha had not made much effort to mix with those around her; it was time she came out of the high grass. She required answers, and there was no better time than the present.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Birks, wheeled in a tea cart, and Felicity sighed with resignation. “May I?” Tabitha stepped forward. “It is the least service I can provide after such a wonderful meal.”
“It would be a service to all,” Felicity whispered in her ear as she ceded the place behind the tea things.
“You might sit at my side to watch and learn, you know,” Tabitha countered; Her Grace laughed and joined her husband on a cozy sofa.
Tabitha duly poured tea and set cakes upon plates. Timothy and Mr. Bates distributed the treats; O’Mara gazed over Tabitha’s shoulder and seemed to interact with the air. At one stage, the chamberlain’s eyes narrowed even as her brows ascended her forehead; her jaw clenched, and she accepted her tea with a scowl.
“I suspect, Miss Barrington, that you have taken stock of our characters thanks to the way we take our tea.” Mr. Bates smiled down at her, a dimple winking in his cheek. His green eyes were captivating, if one found that sort of thing attractive, all that dimpling and sparkling. She imagined his lupine coat was as light as his hair, which was exceptionally blond.
“What would I posit about one who takes theirs with several dollops of sugar?” She handed him his cup, made to that prescription. “I wouldn’t dare to say.” That they needed an infusion of sweetness in their life, perhaps?
“My sister reads the tea but sadly not the leaves,” Timothy said.
Tabitha refrained from pelting him with apetit four. “My brother, for reasons known only to himself, wishes I were a witch.”
“Tabitha’s skills are often uncanny in their depth,” Timothy said as he handed ’round the last of the treats.
“Do you find it uncomfortable being considered outside the pale?” O’Mara accepted a small plate of biscuits.
“You are far outside your own,” Tabitha said. “I discern by your accent you are from Ireland.”
“I am not from Dublin,” the duke’s chamberlain replied. “So, yes, very much beyond the Pale.”
“Has O’Mara’s role in our pack been explained to you, Miss Barrington?” The duke drained his cup and set it aside.
“I know her designation isOmegaand nothing more than that.”
“It is the final letter in the Greek alphabet,” Timothy supplied, “and while one might think it the least, this is not so. Each letter, in lore, is imbued with a specific power, and the last is the bulwark against said powers losing their potency. It contains the strength of the entire alphabet.”
“O’Mara acts as such for the Lowell Pack. It would be best if she were involved in your course of rehabilitation for Llewellyn.” The duke looked at his chamberlain as though for permission; she nodded. “The Omega’s role is to do almost exactly as Mr. Barrington said: to shore up the powers of the ones who go before. Without her, especially as we are such a diverse clan, we would fall into chaos. Preventing that is in her bailiwick.”
“And how is this done?” Tabitha asked. The woman was as tall as Mr. Bates, nearly as tall as the duke, but rangy with it. Even though her physical strength was no doubt formidable, Tabitha suspected it was the least important factor in play.
“I am charged with ensuring that nothing escalates—no grievance, nor even an excess of joy.” O’Mara took up the explanation. “Versipellesare powerful beings in all ways, and it lies with me to oversee the management of emotions.”
“Or the control of them?”
The Omega shrugged. “If you wish.”
“There is fear amongst the smallest of our kind that O’Mara must tend to,” Lowell explained. “A strange predator in our midst is cause for unrest. Unlike us wolves at the top of the pack, who are known and trusted, he is not.”
“Can they not do this themselves, by staying safely away? I believe they have been doing so. He is left very much alone.”
“I am required to manage the general atmosphere.” The Omega did not betray herself by word or tone, but Tabitha had the sensation O’Mara was gritting her teeth through this. “If I perceive a disturbance, I ensure it does not spread through the pack’ssentio, thereby keeping the peace.”
“And what of your own emotions?” Tabitha asked. Felicity hid her face behind her teacup, and Mr. Bates smirked.
“They do not enter into it,” O’Mara said. Her usual calm tone was infused with a vein of impatience. “It is not me but a power working through me. In Irish it is called,” and she said a word that sounded likemuh-HOO.
Timothy perked up. “Would that be styledm-o-t-h-ú? And is your dialect from Connacht?”
“Yes to both.” O’Mara did not elucidate further.
“So this…moohoo,” Tabitha said, “is it like water flowing through a pipe? And you can manipulate it without being affected?” This analogy was not the best, but nevertheless: “Because even a pipe, inanimate though it may be, is affected by the flow of water over time.”
A flash of anger showed on the Omega’s face and was gone in an instant. “It is the way of my kind to be beyond such concerns—”
