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“A beautiful reason, Your Grace, one that speaks to your compassion and your protective nature. Thank you.”
The duke blushed again. Tabitha took a breath and linked her fingers in her lap as she collected her thoughts. O’Mara was her mirror in stillness, though she once again seemed to be communing with something invisible over Tabitha’s shoulder.
Far be it from her to question another’s methods. She’d had enough of that herself. As opposed to the Omega, however, it had made her more flexible and open than not.
“I am not a doctor,” she began. “My work and my methods have been passed down among women for generations. It is not solely based on what can be applied or taken into the body but how the mind influences what is being suffered. Modern medicine is backward in many ways, and in the case of the Duke of Llewellyn, too harsh for a soul who has known such cruelty. In Germany, I briefly came across the work of a man who believed the ills of the mind may be healed through the body. That is, by focusing on physical health, one may strengthen one’s mentality. I have not had a chance to investigate this idea in depth but feel it is useful in this instance. It would be an interesting starting point.”
Lowell crossed his arms over the great breadth of his chest. “I do not like the idea that Llewellyn is to be an experiment.”
“I shall not force him to do anything,” Tabitha vowed. “I will give him nothing but choice. He will return to his senses of his own free will. But I do not want him to change. Well, mostly.”
***
Timothy and she declined the company of a footman to see them home. The path to the cottage was largely through a stretch of wood that separated a cluster of dwellings from the Hall: whether by accident or design, they were not isolated, but their nearest neighbor was some distance away. Tabitha resolutely kept her eyes forward and not on the night-blooming foliage that might reveal itself to be evening primrose.
As was their habit, they walked briskly, an excellent antidote to the lethargy the rich meal inspired and the seriousness of the teatime discussion.
Fraternal bickering did the rest to clear their heads.
“Oh, just a touch more of this delectableamontillado, Your Grace,” Timothy warbled.
“Oh, Your Grace, far be it from us to reside in a grenade,” Tabitha returned.
“Grenier! For the love of Venus!”
“Venus? Really?”
“Mr. Bates is forever invoking her. And when in Rome…”
They both snickered. Timothy offered her an elbow and she accepted it.
“What do you make of O’Mara?” she asked.
“An enviable fashion plate. She would not disclose the name of her tailor, which I find vexing. They are very cagey, these wolves.”
“Oh, but—” Tabitha did not mention her insight into O’Mara’s essential self; it was abundantly clear, to her at least, that the Omega was not a wolf. “Yes, I suppose allversipellesare circumspect by nature. I am not sure how she and I will work together. As if it weren’t enough of a challenge.”
“I have every faith in you. You, who managed to draw clientele in every country we visited despite an utter lack of ear for the languages.” She started to defend herself, and he continued, “A feat I consider more prodigious than if you had mastered them all. Your manner and ability to communicate transcends mere vocabulary.”
“Yes. Hmmm. Huh.” Timothy rolled his eyes at her inability to accept a compliment. “Well. Thank you for pitching in. During the meal.”
“I discerned your reason.” He looked around and hesitated. Tabitha nodded: they were being followed.
“I thought Lowell would find it impossible to eat with his fingers,” she said, “but it was Mr. Bates who resisted most strenuously.”
“Mr. Bates is the wiliest of them all,” her brother said. “I was much in his company during the refurbishment of the schoolrooms. He is gifted in winkling out all of one’s opinions without expressing any of his own and manages to sidestep even a simple yes-or-no response.”
Tabitha shrugged. “In the end, he followed suit.”
“After much weighing of the reasons behind your action. He does not like to be caught on the back foot. Or paw.” Timothy grimaced. “That is likely not well done of me.”
“I have caught myself more than once. And not at all.” She moaned, mortified. “Feral, Tim. Of all the words to choose. I would apologize for that,” she called out to the underbrush.
“This is not comfortable,” Timothy whispered. To no point, given the keenness ofversipellianhearing.
“He is a lion, in fairness.”
“You are not bothered.” Her brother’s eyes narrowed; it was the look he got when weighing a potential suitor for her.
