‘Oh dear,’ said Winnie, moving almost imperceptibly backwards.
‘Oh dear?’ asked Thea, confused.
‘That is bad luck,’ said Catherine in her always gentle voice.
‘It is?’ asked Thea, by now thoroughly confused.
‘I didn’t know you could catch it,’ said Winnie, from her greater distance. ‘I always say that one needs to be wary of a proximity to tradesmen.’
‘I think the apothecary in Flint Street has a peppermint preparation that can help with that,’ said Alice kindly. Emma simply looked horrified. Thea tried to contain her physical reaction as she realised their meaning. Nevertheless, she felt her cheeks pink.
‘Not halitosis.’ The words fell out messily. ‘Haliotis. It is the shell of an herbivorous marine gastropod.’
‘Oh.’
‘Ah.’
‘I see.’
Thea scavenged her mind for words to retrieve the situation. She drew herself up into her tall hairpiece. ‘It is very shiny,’ came out of her mouth, ‘and the tentacles are almost all gone.’
No, definitely not better. Everyone but Cecily looked like they would rather she needed the apothecary’s assistance. Thea saw Harriet press her lips together, and her eyes glistened with unshed mirth as she looked to the ceiling. An awkward silence fell.
‘I would love to see it, sometime,’ said Cecily, placing a kind hand on Thea’s arm. ‘Isn’t that abalone?’
‘Yes, it is,’ said Thea, wondering why she hadn’t thought to lead with its non-scientific name. ‘And so you shall see it, shall we find some time?’ She placed her hand over Cecily’s to keep it in place and steered her away from the group for some respite.
‘They are nice, aren’t they?’ asked Cecily, peering back at the group as she and Thea found a space in the throng. ‘They do make me feel welcome.’
‘That’s because you fit in,’ said Thea dully.
‘I have had to try hard,’ said Cecily, her brow furrowing. ‘They are very particular.’
‘They are,’ said Thea, no more enthusiastically.
‘I’m sure they would love hearing about science and plants if they only gave it a chance,’ said Cecily.
‘Perhaps,’ said Thea, smiling weakly.
‘Neville is quite in the grump with his plants,’ said Cecily. ‘You know how he spends so much money on it, and he is having such trouble.’ Thea’s ears pricked up at that, to listen to him one would think he had a jungle.
‘Is he?’ asked Thea, trying not to sound too gleeful.
‘It’s the protea,’ said Cecily. ‘The one from South America. No success at all from his last sowing.’
‘Oh that,’ said Thea, deflating a little. ‘Nobody can do anything with it from seed. It layers, tolerably though.’
‘Ah, but–’ started Cecily, but was cut off by the man himself.
‘Home,’ said Knatchbull, gesturing to his wife and scampering towards the exit without waiting for her. The withdrawing was obviously at an end.
‘Your Grace,’ said Cecily, bobbing. Thea had been a duchess now for almost two years, since George’s father died, but she had yet to get used to the deference, especially from her friends.
‘Your Grace,’ those words again. Thea turned. The friendly Doctor was smiling at her. ‘I would be most appreciative of hearing more on your experiences of milkweed, if you ever have the time, Your Grace.’
The possibility of a like mind that didn’t dismiss her was almost intoxicating. So much so, that she almost forgot he was a potential risk to her lecture cover.
‘Doctor Speckle, wasn’t it?’ she asked, keeping a check on her interest as was proper.
