Page 23 of A Duke at the Door

“Thank you, it is nothing a tonic can touch,” O’Mara replied. The duke did not like this response and crowded against Tabitha’s back. In defense of her skills? Perhaps she would be able to interest him in a palliative after all.

“I am at your service, should you change your mind.” Good Lord, this was an uphill battle on every front. “I required a bracing tonic of milk thistle this morning. I found the Sunday Meal much richer than I am accustomed to.”

“It is a privilege to partake of such a meal.” O’Mara’s big brown eyes flashed gold. “Not only with the duke and duchess, but with our kind.”

“I do not mean to be ungrateful,” Tabitha said. O’Mara did not treat anyone with kid gloves, but her conduct bordered on rude. “I enjoyed much of it, of course.”

“The lamb course most of all,” the chamberlain said.

“I hope you do not seek to criticize Miss Barrington for her behavior at the meal.” The duke’sdominatumdrew around them; it was nothing like the prince’s and only surged intermittently. In reaction to it, O’Mara took one of those portentous breaths of hers. This only incensed the duke further, and Lowell’s Omega let out a low, whuffling sound of warning.

Tabitha stepped fully between them. “I do not fear criticism. If I did, I would not last long in the apothecary business.” She looked over her shoulder, and the duke stilled at her glance. To O’Mara, she said, “My methods are often unexpected and require the flexibility of all involved. We have asked His Grace to keep company when it may or may not be his preference, and he has done so with, er, grace. I do apologize, sir—” Like a wraith, a wisp of smoke, he had disappeared.

“You have a champion, Miss Barrington.” Tabitha could not tell whether the Omega approved, so flat was her tone.

“Whether or not that is so, O’Mara, I would like to discuss a mutual approach to the duke’s recovery.” She picked up her trug, which His Grace had taken care to lay gently at her feet before he disappeared. “I am headed for Templeton Stud, if you would walk with me?”

“I am going in the other direction.” O’Mara’s coolness was pure obstinance.

“It is not my intention to tread on your patch.” Tabitha hooked the trug over an elbow. “Nor to thwart your Alpha’s wishes. Let us meet, you and I and Lowell, if that suits, and determine a way forward.”

“Our issues are beneathmyAlpha’s notice.” The chamberlain’s voice was a hoarse growl and her emphasis onmyunnecessary. He was certainly not Tabitha’s Alpha. “I would not call it an issue rather than—”

“Interference?” Tabitha asked. The Omega took one of her breaths. “Am I the only source of interference, or do you feel Llewellyn is a threat to your Alpha?”

“He is no match for Lowell’s power.”

“I agree, he is not. Nor do I think he seeks it.”

“No, he does not,” O’Mara admitted. The chamberlain looked around her, and in a heartbeat she appeared desolate—and young, so young, like a small girl. “There is…something disturbing. In the atmosphere.”

“In the atmosphere.”For goodness’ sake. Tabitha forged ahead. “Is it to do with the duke?”

“No. It is a personal matter.”

“And how do you perceive this unease? Is it from your way of consulting the ethers? I have noticed you seem to be connected to something that is not seen by a human eye or indeed aversipellianeye.”

“It is part of my gift and not to be spoken of.” Her composure returned as if her admission had never happened.

“Withhomo plenum, or—”

“It is not to be spoken of. Ever. Have I made myself clear?” O’Mara lowered her chin and all but bared her teeth; she looked as much like her essential self as Tabitha had yet seen.

“As clear as glass.”

The chamberlain stormed off, drawing more than one eye. Tabitha hadn’t realized how close they were to the village, nor how many had witnessed their contretemps. Angering the one who kept them all on an even keel would not endear her to the populace of the Close.

“I am failing on all fronts,” she whispered to the memory of the Italian cat.

Perhaps she ought to take ship and travel on her own.

It was not nearly as daunting a thought as it had been in the past.

Seven

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Ash.” Mr. Marshall, the Lowell Hall stable master, clapped one of his lads on the shoulder. Tabitha held the bowl of poultice she had made, her demeanor calm. She could understand the young man’s apprehension. Her recipe was tried and trusted, but to him, she was an unknown quantity.

She had some apprehension as well, having never had recourse to use this concoction on a Shapeshifter.

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