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Let her nip that in the bud. “He is only acting as his nature demands.”
“I see why O’Mara would think us unable to witness their Changingen masse.” Timothy shuddered. “Best to take them a species at a time.”
“Remember how at odds we were at first, in France, as we tried to keep to our English ways in a foreign land? How much the better for us to immerse ourselves inversipellianculture, if we are to be here for some time, if not forever.” Tabitha’s heart stuttered at the thought of that. “For example, I long to see thecursio.” She directed this statement to a grove of pine trees. “If only there were someone who might contrive a way for me to do so.”
Timothy cast a worried gaze behind them. “Despite being told it is beyond the strength of a human.”
“I do not expect to trot along with them as they race through the park. Just a view of the proceedings from the best vantage point, that’s all.” A stillness in the hedges signaled the receipt of her message, and the ensuing flurry of branches betrayed an exit at speed.
“Was that a yes?” Timothy wondered as they turned off the main path for their own.
“I suppose it remains to be seen.” Her tone was diffident, the better to take the focus off her heart hammering in her chest and keep her brother’s attention off of matchmaking.
Six
Three days after the Sunday Meal, Alwyn was still wondering how to bring—well, notbring, it was not an outing in Hyde Park, it was not as though he were escorting her to a ball…
Alwyn was mulling over how to provide Miss Barrington with a view of thecursio.
If one were looking for a pattern card for providing, one need look no further than the Duke of Lowell. Alwyn stood outside the paddock that contained Her Grace’s band of mares; if he knew horses, and he did, this was a string of very flighty, overbred creatures. Alwyn had lately heard that the horses had been at the heart of a dispute between the duchess and her uncle; the lady came out the better for it, with an entire premises at her disposal as a gift from her then-betrothed. Templeton Stud was established bang in the center of the Close and would soon be a going concern if Lowell had anything to say about it.
As dramatic a gesture as one would expect from a wolf, never mind a duke, it was especially extravagant. And all to prove his worth as a mate. Had Alfred no skills in the wooing department? Constructing a building to convince a human female to wed him seemed rather desperate. How hard could it be to woo ahomo plenus?
Lowell’s efforts fell short, as there did not seem to be a male among this band, thus no stud for his duchess’s mares. The horses managed Alwyn’s presence with equanimity, even going so far as to blink their big brown eyes at the Alpha male in the vicinity. He did not intend to frighten them; in fact, he had a fondness for the silly creatures.Horsehorses were greater in weight and heft than he, but so fearful. Lifetimes as prey would do that to a breed.
They may have batted their lashes at him, but they stayed well away, clustered for safety—all but one of them, that was: a rangy, dark bay equine paced the perimeter, ears swiveling, nostrils flared. When she spotted him, she whinnied; the rest scattered as she galloped to his side of the fenced paddock. Her mane flew, her tail floating behind like a banner, and the sight of it lifted his heart.
The only bright spot in his years at Drake’s were the horses who performed in the equitation extravaganzas. There was a tableau he was required to participate in: he roared, under the encouragement of a harsh prod, and the horses involved would rear on their hind legs as if in fear. Whileversipellesstruggled to communicate clearly with animals not of their own species when in their Shapes, and withanimalis puraof like genus under very limited circumstances, Drake’s horses seemed to understand his predicament. If he did not look sufficiently threatening, it went the worse for him, and he was convinced the herd did their best to appear terrified beyond measure.
Drake’s horses appeared to find the nightly applause sufficient exchange for a lack of freedom. They were content, well-behaved, and placid.
Not this mare, who was close to frothing at the mouth. Ears pinned back and teeth gnashing, she prowled toward him, with as much fierceness as one of his own kind. He extended a hand for her to inspect, trusting her not to mistake his fingers for a delicious treat. “I mean no harm, fearsome one.” He stepped back to—there was a movement one made, as a man before a lady, but it slipped through his mind like a trout through his hands. Was his leg involved somehow? It would not show to best effect in his baggy trousers. He had once dressed to reflect his high status, had he not? How shabby he looked.
“I apologize for the state of my valeting, for I have none. A valet, that is. I fear I am not fit for company, human or no.” The mare had not taken her eyes off him. “Was I in the habit of conversing withanimalis pura? Is it low of a duke to do so? I have forgotten much, you see. How I was in terms of style, or consequence, if I was cordial to your kind, or any kind, I do not know.” He faltered. “I have lost everything, and I…”
She tilted her head, gaze suddenly soft; she huffed, and her ears twitched forward as she walked directly to the fence and hooked her chin over his shoulder. He stood, awkward, arms dangling like a marionette with cut strings. He had no recourse but to embrace her.
“What is it,geneth? I am so sad a case that prey pities me?” She didn’t like that, no, she did not: she nipped him lightly on the shoulder and drew him closer. “Are you not the ferocious Delilah of whom your duchess speaks so fondly? And yet how soft you are. What is it, girl? I am a terrible human, I have no slice of apple for you.
“I am a terrible human in more than that, I fear. I have nothing to give any creature, neither man nor beast.” Nor his essential self. Nothing to give to it nor take from that center of his being, for that center was void—
He pressed his forehead to her shoulder; in his head, his heart, all was in turmoil, a conflagration that threatened to burn him to a cinder. He could not let it roil, let it rage; he would not let an innocent fall afoul of his fury. He would not allow that spark to spiral out of control.
A spark of another sort had flared in the grove, when he watched Miss Barrington harvest foxglove with no thought to her safety. It had been all he could do to stay calm, to resist flinging himself between her and the plant, a mental image that was patently ridiculous. She countered his every statement without fear and spoke to him as if—as if he were a man, a normal man. At the Sunday Meal she bickered with her brother before all, and it tore at his heart more than anything else, tore at it even as it lightened it. He had known at once: despite their wrangling, they were a brother and sister who were friends. He imagined the lady apothecary would do anything for her friends.
Blessed Palu, she was indefatigable. He wondered if a lady would take offense at being described as such; it wasn’t terribly feminine, was it? It was not like calling a womana diamond of the first wateroran incomparable. Not that he would have occasion to call attention to her feminine charms. Nor would he pass comment on her typical outdoorensemble:she appeared to swathe herself in every coat and scarf and shawl she owned. Her face stuck out of the top of it all like a…like a flower in a bouquet. A bouquet of cloth? Of wool?
He had much to recall in terms of flirtation.
He suspected likening the lady to a bouquet of wool was not it.
Not that was he interested in flirting with the lady.
The indefatigable and also unflinching lady. He had positively roared at her about the trowel. His voice had risen and risen, and the last thing he expected was to be greeted with a smile. And what a smile. It illuminated her understated beauty, beauty that must be sought out to apprehend, beauty that was like a secret only for him to discover.
And then—and then! Miss Barrington turned her back on him. Smiled at him and then turned her back and went about her business. She was rather splendid, for a human female. Not that he was interested in paying her compliments or squiring her about.
He sought only to hold up his end of their bargain. The thought of their bargain was enough to make him laugh aloud.Feral, she’d said. The looks on the others’ faces!
