“Mr. Roth!” I cried. “What an unexpected surprise.”
He looked from me to Mr. Chubais. “I require some remedies for the journey tomorrow. I will come back at another time when you are not engaged.”
“No, no, please don’t go.” I hurried from around the table to James’s side, the knife still clamped in my hand. “I believe our business is concluded, Mr. Chubais, unless you have any further questions for me?”
There was no trace of his earlier smile. “Our conversation has been most illuminating. I thank you for your time, Miss Kilbrid.” He bowed and turned to leave.
Just then I remembered the reason for his visit. “Mr. Chubias,” I called, stopping him at the door. In my panic, I had nearly let him leave without delivering the contents of his urgent message. “Did you wish to tell me something?”
Mr. Chubais half-turned and looked at me. He studied my face once more before his gaze traveled to the knife in my hand. “The heat has made me weary and the exact phrasing has slipped my mind. I shall remember later and send you word.” He reached into his coat pocket for the dark spectacles and placed them over his eyes. “Good day, Miss Kilbrid.”
I stared at the empty doorway, unsure what to make of my short interview with the albino. No doubt, he knew about Brigid’s descendants or he never would have understood the significance of my parents’ marriage, the marriage of a McBres and a Kilbrid. And what did he mean that the scent was undeniable?
James cleared his throat. “An acquaintance of yours?” he asked, with open disdain for the albino. Not that I expected otherwise—he had yet to approve of anything about my life, me included.
I shook my head. “This is the first time I have ever seen him. He inquired about my grandmother, and by the way he spoke, he seemed to have known her from before she came to the Colonies. I’m not sure how though as she left Ireland more than forty years ago.”
“Oh, yes,” James said. “I almost forgot about your unfortunate connection to that godforsaken land. The king, I’m sure, will not be so negligent once he learns how you’ve stolen his nephew’s attention from Princess Amelia.”
Amnesia could not have caused James to “forget” my Irish roots as he now claimed. Nor would he miss an opportunity to remind me that Henry was currently betrothed to the king’s second daughter. Against his will, albeit, but betrothed all the same.
A dozen heated retorts jumped to my throat. I forced them back, determined to remain civil. “You require a remedy, I believe. Something for the journey.”
“Quite right,” he said. “On the voyage from England I suffered severe seasickness. I was hoping you might have something that would make the return voyage more tolerable.”
For a brief moment I debated giving him a bottle of senna root that I had brewed as a laxative for Old Nan. One teaspoon twice a day wasn’t enough to cause him too much inconvenience, though it would do absolutely nothing to cure his real ailment. By my humble estimation, seasickness and an occasional loose bowel were the least he deserved in return for his awful behavior towards me this past month.
I shot a furtive look at the bottles. Passing one onto James would be easy enough. Getting away with it would prove more difficult. He had asked for my help, and to deny him was a serious breach of my gift. If Brigid learned that I had purposefully harmed another person, I would be cut off from the Otherworld and the very source of my power. No human was worth the risk, least of all James Roth.
I took a jar of powdered ginger from the shelf instead. “This should help. Brew one teaspoon in a cup of hot water four times a day. You may add some sugar to help with the taste.”
James nodded and took the jar. “Thank you, Miss Kilbrid.” Without so much as a smile, he turned and left the room.
My pleasure, Mr. Roth. And may the devil take you before the morning.
Such luck had eluded me of late, and for about the millionth time I cursed the circumstances that kept me in the Colonies a month longer than Henry and, by his insistence, in James’s daily company. To be sure, I had bristled at the idea of a protector, but Henry had stood firm and refused to sail unless I agreed to let James stay, regardless of the magistrate’s threat to have him flogged.