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His Highness scrutinized her. “The Honorable Tabitha Barrington,” he intoned. “She of the single unfinished Season, nigh on, oh, what is it, twenty-five years ago?”
“Seventeen, Your Highness.” That stung in a way it had not for ages. “It transpired that my father had need of me.”
“I confused the length of time ago with your length of time away.”
“That would be but ten years, Your Highness.” Was he goading her? “I am thirty-five years of age, and we departed for France in 1807.” They had, through sheer luck, managed to avoid the worst of the Napoleonic conflict, having made their way through Spain well ahead of the armies.
“And now you are returned, you and your brother, the Honorable Mr. Timothy Barrington, the Duchess of Lowell’s new tutor. I do hope the travel was not too arduous for his…consumption, was it?”
“It was what my mother feared.” With a little help from her children.
“And along the way, according to the duchess, your bosom friend, you have practiced healing arts on all and sundry.”
This could not be about that, could it? She peeked up at him: he looked choleric and in need of a cooling tisane. “She is all that is supportive of my interests, Your Highness.”
“You will have heard that Alwyn ap Lewin, the Duke of Llewellyn, has returned to the royal fold.” The prince did not wait to assure himself of her knowledge or lack thereof. “He is suffering from his years of captivity, and I would assign him to your care.”
“Captivity? In the wars?” Tabitha was sure she would have heard of an English duke held by the French. But what else could it be? “My brother and I met many veterans on our travels.”
“He is not one of that illustrious company.” The prince toyed with a button on his waistcoat. In her years of observation, this indicated nervousness to Tabitha, which was patently absurd. What had the prince regent of England to be nervous about? “We had thought him safely snug in his homeplace in Wales, but that was not the case.” He looked down his nose at her, which he was well able to do: she was of middling height, and His Highness was very tall. And very broad. He continued, “I have heard nothing but praise regarding your capabilities. I am curious as to how you gained your knowledge of medicaments and suchlike.”
Medicaments?Suchlike? She suspected he was condescending to her on purpose. Let her be very thorough. “I am honored, Your Highness. There is a tradition of engaging in the healing arts on my mother’s side of the family. To be more precise, the predilection comes from her mother’s father’s mother, so it is a lovely combination of both the masculine and feminine principles of my family line. I learned what I could from my maternal grandmother before her passing, but seeing the desire I had to increase my knowledge, our housekeeper, who is, in fact, a distant cousin to my father in his paternal line, took me under her wing and taught me all she knew regarding herbs, the cultivating of said herbs, the distillation of—”
“Yes, wonderful.” Tabitha was cut off with a gesture of his lacy cuff. “I leave Llewellyn to your good offices. He has been installed in a cottage in the park at Lowell Hall and will put himself at your disposal.”
“I would like to consult with him directly, Your Highness.”
“That will not be necessary.”
“I am afraid it is.”
The prince drew himself up, seemed to grow in height and breadth, and he…drew all the air in the room around him? “I suggest you trust the will and opinion of your sovereign.” Tabitha’s ears popped, much like they had when ascending the Austrian Alps. Whatever it was weighted down her head and shoulders in an oppressive fashion.
Luckily, she had never been adversely affected by changes in altitude. “I trust you have the duke’s best interests at heart, but I am not comfortable speaking about him behind his back or as though he were a child.”
The air relaxed—what degree of fanciful was this?—and His Highness considered her. “He has not been free for many years. He has not had the company of those like him for all that time. His physicality is not what it once was. His demeanor is melancholy.”
“I see. Melancholy very often prevents one from keeping one’s form in fettle, which then exacerbates the dampened spirits. Is His Grace the active sort?”
“Oh, yes.” The prince barked a laugh. “Active. Yes.”
What was amusing about that, she had no clue. “I have a series of cures that have proven effective in the past, but ills of the mood are complex. Several of my tonics aid in a variety of ways, for example, a lack of sleep is deleterious to general health—”
Tabitha was cut off once again. “As to that.” The waistcoat button received renewed attention. “He is unlike your usual run of patient.”
“Client,” she dared to correct him. “I am not a doctor.”
“You will not have met his kind before.”
“A duke? Or a Welshman? I can assure you that I have spent the past ten years traveling far and wide and as such have a breadth of experience your common or garden apothecary cannot claim.” Was she now arguing for this assignment?
The pressure hovered around the prince. “I would ask you to take me at my word.”
“Your Highness.” Oh, diplomacy, not her strong suit. “It is not your word I challenge but my ability to be of any use to this man unless I am apprised of the exact circumstances.”
The prince stood still as a statue and yet another wave of that strange tension rolled off him. It had all the characteristics of waiting for the crash of thunder after the flash of lightning, a suspension that promised a shock, even as one expected it. She withstood it and he muttered something abouthuman females—human females? That could not be correct.
He languidly extended an arm. “Regard, miss.”
