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“Yes, yes, it is poisonous, but only when used with regularity. Nevertheless, we applied it with great care to his face. He clutched a handkerchief already prepared with carmine—that was his idea, not mine, but it proved to be an excellent flourish. He quietly coughed his way through breakfast, and when that failed to attract the required attention, he fainted, holding the hankie to his mouth so it looked like he was leaking blood all over the place.” She snickered at the memory, and the duke made that rumbly, scratchy sound that seemed to originate deep in his chest, reluctant to be released.
“Very dramatic.” The duke conquered the saucer, so she handed him a cup. “I wonder that your mother was not disturbed?”
“It was as Timothy said. We did not come up to snuff.” Tabitha watched Llewellyn address drying the cup with greater confidence. “Neither my mother nor my father exerted themselves when it came to us. My father was forever pronouncing upon my attributes or lack thereof and insisting on ways I must improve myself. And despite many attempts and many losses, my mother did not produce any more children.”
“Many losses. Is that why you pursued your craft?”
“Very perceptive, Your Grace. As her daughter, I was to tend her through her recoveries and found I had a talent for it.” She handed him a large bowl, and he held it carefully as he dried it. “And thank you, it is a craft, although Tim has more than once joked in poor taste that it is a capital-C Craft, like witchery.”
“An enchantress, then,” Llewellyn said. “Akin to Ceridwen, who combined many ingredients in her fabled caldron and produced magic. You may be more powerful than she, using fewer ingredients to greater effect.”
“An enchantress, honestly.” Why he said these things to her, she could not fathom. “When it came down to it, we were not useful to their ends. Timothy thought we would not be missed, and so it was. Letters were not answered, and I gave up after a while.”
“All are not best disposed to have young. The lions know this, no matter thatcatcats reproduce indiscriminately.” He set the bowl to the side and accepted one of the platters. “Having said that, we were larger than most prides, and my mother was still keen to bring forth young.”
“I am truly sorry.” Tabitha left the utensils to soak and dried her hands. “I hope it has done you some good to speak of them.”
“More good than I can say. It is like when the chain slid off my paw and I was freed. The moment it was removed, the impediment gone, my Change flowed through me.” His amused huff would be the death of her. “To the alarm of the thief who had seen the gold and wanted it for himself.”
“It was as simple as that?”
“I suppose? There is much that seems to be unknown.” Llewellyn shrugged, a boyish gesture not remotely ducal. “My usual handler had taken ill, though now I think on it, the thief may have ensured the man sickened. He must have thought to feather his nest, but little did he know.”
“You Changed instantly?”
“From one breath to the next. The thief…lost his composure, shall we say? Even in my weakened state, I managed to divest him of his clothing and made for Carlton House. It was a swift departure. And yours?”
“Mine? Oh, swift, but with fewer thieves and ensorcelled golden chains.” She busied herself putting things away, while the duke seemed to take great pains to ensure the last platter was dry as a bone. “The lord I shall not name had been feral, if you will once again forgive me the term, in his pursuit of Timothy. Utterly relentless, a law unto himself, which is not unusual, I suppose, in the upper classes. On top of this was watching my brother struggle with his grief. Oh, he vowed he understood the reality of the situation, but the loss of his beloved cut him off at the knees. He didn’t have the vitality to be looking over his shoulder. So I did it for him.”
“With no thought to your own safety, I imagine.”
Tabitha ignored the comment. “The unfortunate result being it brought me to this lord’s attention, and he attempted to court me, with my father’s permission, in order to compromise me. To what end, who knew, as he would have been quite stuck with me. We reckon he meant to leave me at the altar as if it would shame me or break my heart. It was decided that drastic steps were to be taken.”
“I do not think you would dose him with foxglove.”
“Oh, no, it is far too easy to miscalculate the dosage.” He closed his eyes in disbelief, and she had to laugh. “Rose otto, you may remember, is an efficient emetic, and one can use as much as one likes, to no ill effect. Barring the hours spent curled over the chamber pot.”
“You are a formidable foe.” He did not seem put off by that. “And then you left.”
“And then we left. Before the emetic was administered, we made sure we had enough for the fare and some ready money. Timothy had a small legacy, and we both had skills we could put to use in the wide world. Life was cheaper abroad, everyone said so, and everyone was correct if, like us, they were used to making do. We did, and did nicely.”
“And your brother was safe and happy.”
“On all counts. Mind you, it was not as though the Continent was a paradise where confirmed bachelors were completely free to live their lives without censure. There is no such place, but there were plenty of towns and cities where we both found peace of mind. I had not reckoned on how much the release from fear would do for him. It was like watching a bird fly from a cage. He was already warm and friendly and sociable, but with freedom, he became expansive and charismatic and urbane.”
“And you? What did you become?”
“Less cautious, less concerned.” These adjectives paled in comparison to Timothy’s. No matter. “I became adept at many new approaches to healthful living and have seen things I never thought I’d see.”
“Has your brother given his heart again?” The platter was dry to His Grace’s satisfaction, and he laid it down.
“He has been enjoying his freedom. Not unlike you or I would do under the same circumstances, never minding that our desires are more in line with what society deems conventional.”
“Are your preferences conventional?” He leaned back against the sink. Nothing about this action ought to make her tremble, and yet. This evening’s coat was a dark green, far less eye watering than recent choices; while it fit better than those previous, it still hung off him like washing on a line; his trousers appeared to be fastened with a sliver of wood wound through a loop; his boots were made of scraps of suede sloppily stitched together and tied closed at his knee. All of that, and yet the posture cast his body into a sinuous line of potent masculinity. His hair still held the shine her tonic had given it, and it was all she could do to refrain from working out the growing tangles. He leaned closer. “If I am to succeed as your suitor, I must know what you prefer.”
“My what, now?” She turned away to wipe down the table and stack the plates and cups they had yet to clear. “You are not—there is no suiting going on here.”
“Tell that to the bee. And the goat, and the toad.”
