“It’s my son’s heart…” his Lordship trailed off.
“Foxglove will ease him.”
He took the vial. “And for the other?”
“Has she bled?”
“Two weeks hence.”
“Give her this tonight. ‘Twill be efficacious.”
Coins dispersed, he withdrew.
Sean looked up the hill to the tableau of lordly wealth. “Donal won’t mount the garish cow.”
“Have faith, brother. When that poor girl goes to him, he’ll fulfill his duty.”
“How’d you figure?”
“Simple,
the potion I concocted will make her look like you, and when she offers
her untried cunt, he’ll be too drugged to notice the difference.”
“Wicked thing.”
“Very.”
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