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He would stay and gauge her behavior—no, he could not, he could not stay one more moment in a place she inhabited. It went against his nature to abandon the weak to danger, but how dangerous could this lady be, here amongst the greatest predators on this island?
A battle raged within; its fury held him captive, unable to act.
***
Distracted by a glorious overabundance of lovage, Tabitha’s meander to town came to a halt while she harvested as much as she could carry. She thought she spied a patch of hyssop nearby when yet another coach rolled in. Mr. Bates’s fears regarding the village’s future may not be so far-fetched, given the increase in traffic to Lowell Close. She saw Llewellyn, who had been entertaining children (of all things!), start to sidle away after a lady stepped down from the carriage.
Tabitha did not know who she was, but she could see the newcomer was uncommonly beautiful. Of dainty height, her figure was sheer perfection, bosomy yet slender. Shiny hair the color of rich mahogany hugged sleekly to her skull in a low chignon, and as her gaze cast about the Close, Tabitha saw her eyes were a pale green, like the sun shining through one of her tincture vials. The lady’s clothing was in the first stare of fashion, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, with exceptionally fine gloves in between.
The lady was an Incomparable, and Tabitha took against her on sight.
She was too far to hear, but she could see: as the new visitor spoke, it was obvious Lowell and Osborn were protecting their people, the pack gathering as one behind the bastion of their strength. Tabitha’s unrest grew. As Llewellyn slunk farther to the back of the crowd, she wondered what he sensed…
For she sensed all was not right with this woman.
***
Why did Lowell not expel her from his lands? It was clear he was not pleased to see her, that she was unwelcome. Alwyn was not an avid reader of novels, but he recalled Miss Barrington saying her books came very close to giving awayversipelliansecrets. Georgie devoured them even as he castigated her, but the prince did nothing to stop her or rein her in.
The lady author was baiting those who were more powerful than she, but to what end?
On top of all that, she was rude to the publican and his wife: when they made to greet her, she dismissively gestured to her excess of trunks and cases, to be given into their care via the postilions.
“You do not travel light, Mrs. Asquith,” Lowell observed.
“I assume I am welcome to stay at least one night, Your Grace?” Her mien was all that was submissive, her tone pure conciliation—yet as she ran a hand up one of her full-length gloves, it was an oddly aggressive gesture.
“It is to be expected that you travel so, as you are known for your style throughout society,” Lady Swinburn remarked. “I have never seen the like of your gloves.”
“You would not have. They are the only ones of their kind.” Mrs. Asquith raised a slim arm, and the wide bell of her pelisse’s sleeve fell back; sunlight caught the scales that comprised them, a shimmering rainbow from the tips of her fingers to the crook of her arm. “I have earned a rather good wage from my novel writing,” she said, glancing at Charlotte’s less-than-fashionable walking dress, “and I do like to indulge myself. These are rare, the rarest of all—dragonskin.”
“Dragonskin!” Tarben exclaimed, and only his father’sversipellianreflexes prevented him from rushing to the lady for a closer look.
“There are no such things as dragons,” his father said.
“I have heard—” Charlotte began; Mrs. Asquith turned her back on her and addressed Beatrice.
“Your Grace,” she said, “how I adore your bonnet. We appear to have the same extravagant tastes.”
Osborn’s duchess did not deign to reply; Alwyn swore he could see the mantle of Lady Frost enfold her in its chilling embrace. She treated Mrs. Asquith’s figure to a slow sweep, head to toe and back again, that paid twice what Mrs. Asquith had accorded her sister-in-law and gave the lady author her shoulder.
“My dear Lady Swinburn, let us fetch Her Grace.” Osborn’s wife and Second linked their arms and drew her away. “The duchess must be very absorbed in her work.”
The women swept past her, noses in the air. Unfazed, Mrs. Asquith’s smile did not waver as she scanned the crowd. “I was made to understand there is yet another duke in Sussex—”
Shouts issued from behind the inn: the performer’s bear charged out of the stable yard and into the heart of the crowd. Rested after her trials, she appeared larger than when she arrived and the villagers fell back farther, leaving it to their leaders to sort out.
The bear made straight for the lady author and was headed off nimbly by the Duke of Osborn. Mrs. Asquith was unperturbed, and if she looked cross and surprised, it was perhaps due to the spotlight veering from her to the rampaging beast. The strongest of theversipellesherded the bear gently toward the strongman, who spoke to her softly until she calmed.
In the melee, the lady author wandered through the crowd, looking about her intently, and rather than catch her attention, Alwyn fled.
***
It would take the spectacle of a looseanimali purito draw attention from the newcomer. Tabitha’s unease doubled as the bear charged into the green. Lowell and Osborn corralled the creature, and Mr. Bates and Gambon did their best to help. The bear ignored them all until Mr. Quincy came on the scene, distraught yet calm, gentling the animal until she allowed him to put on her harness.
How had the creature gotten loose?
Lowell and Mr. Bates conferred, heads together, leaving Mr. Gambon to urge the pack members back to their shops or homes, while Ben and Osborn took the lead in helping Mr. Quincy soothe the bear. She had seen Charlotte and Beatrice disappear into Felicity’s premises, and they had yet to return.
