How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship Novella Book 1)

by Gail Carriger

  Lyall stepped close, placed his hands to either side of Channing’s face, and breathed with him. Beta calm. Balance and focus. Lyall – my opposite in all things. What the Beta gives to the pack, the Gamma takes away. Challenge to support, fight to acceptance, peace for a time, until challenge comes again. The cycle of the wolf.

  “Channing.” His Beta’s voice was mellow. “If she is in love with you, and I think she is – although you can’t have made it easy for her, poor little thing – then she deserves to know all of you.”

  Channing could not deny this. Faith had spread herself raw and tenderized before him this very evening, cut herself open like fresh meat. He had craved her before he knew all her story, and now? Now he hungered for her, ravenous, and it was just possible he loved her a little. Even a lot. Which was truly terrifying.

  “If you want to keep her for yourself – and I think you need to keep her – she has a right to know all of it.”

  The next day, during early evening visiting hours, no one was surprised to see Mrs Iftercast, Miss Iftercast, and Miss Wigglesworth call upon the werewolves of Falmouth House. Or, to be precise, since the sun was not yet down, they were visiting the daylight support staff and clavigers of Falmouth House.

  Everyone had heard the wildly romantic and mildly horrific story of the gallery the night before. More important, it was now understood and officially reported that Miss Wigglesworth had netted herself a werewolf. The fact that it was Major Channing was a surprise only to those who had not been watching his deranged courtship of her over the past few months.

  Those who had, nodded wisely and said that while it might have looked peculiar from the outside, the major was an old-fashioned type, and perhaps it was a werewolf courting ritual of some seventy years gone. The very old (the howlers, the record-keepers, and the vampires) wondered about Major Channing’s first wife. But they did not say anything, because they were also old enough to know when to hold their tongues.

  The fact that little Miss Wigglesworth brought her maid along with her to call at Falmouth House was thought a trifle odd. Suggestions were made that this was, most likely, an American custom. Others thought perhaps she intended to inspect the household and the running thereof, and that the maid would provide assistance in the matter of downstairs staff. Miss Wigglesworth would be the first proper wife to enter the London Pack since Lady Maccon. It was expected that she would take over the running of day-to-day concerns (or night-to-night, as it were). Of course, she would wish to visit during daylight hours if she wanted to meet the children and see the clavigers.

  Faith and Minnie hid in the safety of the pack house until after sunset.

  Whether her parents would try to get ahold of either of them was a moot point. Falmouth House did not open its doors to just anyone, visiting hours or not. After all, during the daytime, the pack had no one high enough ranked awake to receive. Also, in England it was not done, as a general rule, to call upon werewolves; one waited for them to call upon you.

  Faith and Teddy had a very pleasant time of it. They played with the two children, gossiped with the clavigers (a cheerful, rowdy bunch who nevertheless tried to put on a few airs and graces in the presence of ladies). Faith had her work cut out for her with them – actors and opera singers and such. She enjoyed the challenge. Mrs Iftercast knitted and watched them all indulgently (no doubt imagining her own future grandchildren) while Minnie paced and tried not to look nervous.

  The children were sweet. Robbie was a dear little fellow with a perpetual smile. He sat on Teddy’s lap, cooing and drooling in the manner of most small infants. Occasionally, he emitted a garbled word or two. Gracie played on the floor with Mrs Whybrew. Mrs Whybrew was a frank, chatty female whom Faith instantly liked. She seemed to have developed a certain adaptive pattern of habits, or possibly pseudo-supernatural abilities, being the only female in the household. Well, her and Gracie. Faith hoped they could be friends; they would likely need to form an alliance.

  An hour or so after sunset, as was right and proper, Lord Falmouth descended the staircase and entered his drawing room with both hands extended in welcome.

  “Miss Wigglesworth, delighted to find you here!” Biffy drew her forwards to bestow a kiss upon either cheek in a manner that young people adopted after visiting Europe.

  Very modern, thought Faith, pleased by the familial intimacy.

  “I cannot tell you how happy I am to officially welcome you to my home as a soon-to-be pack member. Things couldn’t have turned out better. Really, they couldn’t. I am so very pleased.”

  Faith blushed and wanted to hug him but thought maybe that was taking things too far. We might get there eventually, she hoped. The werewolves seemed a physically affectionate lot. Always bumping into each other and throwing arms about shoulders.

  Biffy grinned. “Have you come to inspect the place? I assure you Lyall runs a tight ship. Although he’ll be delighted to shunt some of the household burdens onto you. He is eager to resume the full scope of his former duties at BUR. Were you aware that he was once an investigator with them?”

  Faith shook her had. “I thought Major Channing…”

  “Ah, no, Channing took over from Lord Maccon. Lyall held the secondary position, but he has been away these twenty years and his post has remained vacant. The two of them have already departed for Fleet Street, as a matter of fact. First thing this evening out the back of the house. Didn’t smell you here, I’m afraid. Terrible hurry. Something to do with Channing’s current case. It’s giving him some stick. Lyall has an excellent nose, you know?”

  Minnie gave a little squeak.

  Biffy’s attention shifted to her. “And who have we here?”

  “This is my maid, Minnie. I’m sorry to say we need to speak to Major Channing right away.”

  “Ah, the eager bride.”

  Faith tried to give Biffy a significant look that neither Teddy nor Mrs Iftercast could see. “It is a matter of urgent business. Very particular business.”

  Biffy looked impressed. “Oh, is it, indeed? My, but you are full of surprises, lovely Faith. Urgent, you say? Well, if you will allow some of the other pack to entertain you, I’ll go fetch him back myself. I could use a run. It’s getting on towards full moon, we all get a little restless about this time of the month. But we will tell you all about that sort of thing later. Don’t want to keep you waiting.”

  Biffy was clearly eager to hear her information but guessed that she’d speak only to Channing.

  He bowed himself out of the drawing room. As if this were some sort of signal, Mr Quinn, Mr Ditmarsh, and Mr Hemming came in. Quinn and Hemming clearly wanted some time with the pack’s children before they were put to bed.

  Quinn lifted Robbie up out of Teddy’s lap and swung him high. The boy squealed in delight.

  “How’s my little man?” He buried his face in Robbie’s round tummy and made a steam engine noise.

  Robbie shrieked in laughter.

  Hemming scooped up Gracie and took her on a dirigible float, as he called it. This involved Gracie lying splayed on his stretched-out arms while he bobbed about the room, making a whooshing noise.

  Mrs Whybrew said to Faith, “Aren’t they ridiculous?”

  Faith said, “I think it’s adorable.”

  Mr Ditmarsh came to stand next to them, shaking his head. “Big, fearsome werewolf brutes indeed. Should this get out, the pack’s reputation would be in ruins.”

  Faith and Teddy both grinned.

  Mr Ditmarsh looked at them in all seriousness. “Miss Wigglesworth, Miss Iftercast, we depend upon you not to breathe a word of this to anyone.”

  Teddy and Faith exchanged amused nods.

  “We will take it to the grave,” vowed Faith.

  Teddy giggled as Hemming and Gracie bobbed by her.

  Mrs Whybrew rolled her eyes. “Oh, now, boys! Don’t you go an’ rile them up so afore bed. Get along now, take the ladies away and feed them. Leave me to my business
, do!”

  At the nanny’s insistence, the gentlemen put the babies down and filed out, leading Faith and her cousins into the dining room.

  There, Faith and the Iftercasts sipped tea and nibbled bread-and-butter sandwiches while the werewolves, and those few clavigers still around, ate vast quantities of roast mutton and chopped liver on toast and tried not to be too bawdy, although it was clearly a trial for them.

  Faith was in heaven. It was fun. They were fun.

  Minnie stayed with the children in the guise of helping put them to bed. Faith hoped that her keeping busy would put her mind at ease. It wasn’t entirely effective; Minnie eventually slipped into the dining hall to stand in one corner, clutching her sewing tool kit and watching the raucous werewolves with wide, fearful eyes.

  Teddy stretched over at one point to grab the butter, almost across Mr Zev, who was leaning far back in his chair in order to throw a roll at Mr Bluebutton for being “that much more of a pompous twig than usual.” Teddy’s own breach of etiquette was wholly disregarded (except by her mother, who glared and hissed, “Theodora, resume your proper seat this instant!”).

  Another bun flew across the table at Zev and missed Teddy only because she lurched aside to hiss at Faith, “Do you think this is what goes on at a gentlemen’s club? Oh, would you look at Mums! She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I guess they were very much on their best behavior when we were all here for dinner before.”

  Faith swallowed down a grin. “Either that or the absence of the three top-ranking wolves leaves a vacancy in proper conduct.”

  “Oh, do you think? Of course. That is possible.”

  Mr Ditmarsh gave them a wink.

  Oops, thought Faith, supernatural hearing, I forgot.

  “Sadly, ladies, we are always like this. Lyall threatened us with turnips for a week if we didn’t behave when you first dined with us.”

  “We hate turnips.” Hemming grabbed the next flying roll right out of the air and took a huge bite out of it.

  “To a man,” added Quinn.

  “To a wolf, shouldn’t it be?” wondered Faith.

  At which juncture the door to the dining room burst open, although from where Faith was sitting, she couldn’t see anything come through it.

  Then Minnie screamed as if she were being murdered.

  Faith saw his tail first, white and fluffy; it swayed back and forth like a banner. Then a massive wolf trotted around the table and stalked directly towards her.

  She barely noticed there were two other wolves behind him, both smaller, one dark, one light.

  But this wolf was magnificent – pure white, enormous but lean, a true predator. His eyes were icy blue and his pink tongue lolled out one side of his mouth, panting. He must have run very fast to get back to her so quickly.

  He trotted to Faith and without pause placed his saucer-sized front paws, most likely dirty from running the streets of London, onto the side of her chair and stood up.

  He leaned forward and pressed his head into her neck and huffed at her.

  Which was when Faith unfroze. It was not that she’d been afraid, only that she had prey instincts exactly like any other human. Here was a wolf, hunter, and if Mr Darwin was to be believed, somewhere inside her, way back, was a monkey, small and afraid. All she had been able to think, for those first few moments, was that she was sitting in the dining room and a wolf was charging at her. But now she realized who that wolf was.

  “Good evening, Channing.” A new instinct kicked in, that of beloved, and Faith twisted in her chair to bury both her hands in his thick fur. It managed to be both soft and coarse at the same time, and it was very warm and lush.

  “You got here quickly. Did you hear that I brought you a present? A sort of engagement gift.” She didn’t know if he could understand her when he was a wolf. He’d mentioned something once about not being entirely himself when he was in his shifted form. But he must have some level of intelligence, for he clearly recognized her.

  She pushed back from the table and stood. He pressed against her side, almost herding her, separating her from the rest of the men in the room.

  She allowed it, resting her hand on his head as he led her through and away from the others into the hallway.

  A squeak of horror gave her pause.

  Minnie had followed them, barely breathing, almost petrified with fear. It was one thing to know that werewolves existed; it was another to be confronted by incontrovertible proof.

  “Join us, please, Minnie.” Faith tried to sound encouraging.

  The wolf growled.

  “Now, now, Channing, Minnie is instrumental in this. She has your gift.”

  Minnie whispered. “Please, miss, don’t make me.”

  Faith closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “Give them to me, then.”

  Minnie delved into her tool kit and handed over the velvet drawstring bag in which they’d stashed the bullets. Faith had to lean forward and grab them from her maid, as the wolf, teeth bared, stood between them.

  Minnie turned and fled the house.

  Faith wondered if she would ever see her again.

  Channing nudged her towards the back of the hall, stopping expectantly in front of a large and imposing door.

  “In here?”

  He chuffed at her. He really was a particularly fine-looking wolf, with that lovely white coat and those beautiful blue eyes. Faith didn’t find him fearsome in the least, now that she was accustomed to the idea.

  A little hesitant – after all, this was not her house, not yet, at any road – Faith opened the door and pushed into the room.

  It appeared that this was the pack library. Faith instantly adored it. The room was generously proportioned with bookshelves against practically every wall. There was space for a large fireplace in one corner. Here and there stood a small table or a desk, or a cluster of comfortable looking leather chairs and couches.

  There were not a great many books. Faith remembered that the pack had only recently moved to Falmouth House. She wondered if they would let her add her own books to the collection. She hadn’t managed to bring many with her from America, only her favorite mineral identification manuals and geological treatises. She thought maybe Channing would let her buy more and expand the library further. Her husband-to-be seemed utterly unperturbed by her unladylike scientific pursuits. She wondered if he might even encourage her in them. He’d courted her with gifts of rocks, after all. Suddenly, she had a million questions for him, about domestic arrangements, about her future, about their future together, in this house with this pack. There were so many possibilities. So much she needed to know.

  “Would you change back into a human for me, please?” she begged the wolf.

  The wolf only chuffed and led her to the far side of the room, where a beautiful bay window stuck out. There were thick, heavy curtains to keep out the sunlight. This was the house of immortals, after all. But behind the curtains, the window boasted a cushioned seat and a beautiful view of Blackheath under the stars. Faith instantly imagined spending many a rainy evening curled there reading, a crackling fire in the hearth, and a white wolf asleep at her feet, or a tall blond man with a snobbish expression cuddling her close.

  “Oh!” said Faith. “It’s perfect.”

  The wolf woofed at her, softly, and seemed to want her attention on some empty shelves nearby.

  “You know, I could understand you better if you spoke actual words.” She stroked him, running her hands through the thick fur, tracing the wolf bones underneath, marveling that he could transition between the two. She played with the velvety softness of his ears and he trembled against her in pleasure, massive tail wagging back and forth, hitting a puffy hassock behind him with a rhythmic thumping.

  She looked into his blue eyes. Exactly the same ice blue as when he was a man. “You’re so beautiful,” she told the wolf and the man, in case he was in there, hidden behind the eyes. “Come back to me now, plea
se, Channing?”

  He stepped away from her with another one of those pleasant chuffing noises.

  Then the noises became entirely unpleasant. Faith winced at the sound of breaking bones and shifting flesh. Her eyes welling with sympathetic tears, she watched, both horrified and fascinated, as the white wolf shifted. He transitioned smoothly from beast to man, but it was no doubt an agony. His white fur seemed to crawl along his body towards his head as the man emerged. Fur became hair, snout shortened to nose, blue eyes bled into bigger blue, pointed velvet ears shrank down, becoming small, round, and human.

  There was a dimorphic moment when Faith believed the wolf was the real Channing and the man was merely a temporary manifestation of the beast. She wanted the wolf back because she knew that form comforted him. But that was pure fancy; he was both, and neither.

  Finally, he stood before her, all pale skin and long lean muscles, tall and lanky, and fit and very naked.

  STEP TEN

  Get Him to the Altar

  “Oh!” Faith slapped her hands up to cover her eyes, knowing her cheeks must be pink.

  Channing, the cad, gave a low laugh. “Don’t you enjoy the view, Lazuli? One would think you might like to approve the goods before you purchased, so to speak.”

  Faith had only ever seen one fully naked man before. To be fair, she had found Kit nice to look upon. Now she thought him much less aesthetically pleasing than Major Channing, but she’d always liked how different the male form was from her own.

  She peeked through her fingertips.

  Channing was standing before her, unashamed, arms crossed, expression sardonically amused.