“Reasonable?” he choked out. The muscles under his skin began to contract and ripple as his wolf begged to be let out.
Joanna’s eyes bulged. “He’s … he’s not …”
A quick sniff in the air told him what she was trying to say. Human. Using every ounce of his control, he tamped his wolf’s instincts down. Thank goodness he didn’t shift into his wolf form or their secret would be revealed.
Focusing his eyes, he recognized the other man. “Sherrington?”
Lord Jeremy Sherrington nodded as he swallowed audibly. “Wakefield,” he mumbled. “I … I must say this is awkward.”
That word didn’t even begin to describe the situation.
Sherrington scratched his head. “I suppose you’d like to call me out.”
“Call you out?”
“Pistols? At dawn?”
He glanced at his wife. His cheating, harlot of a wife. Duel for her? Sherrington had to be kidding. “No, I don’t suppose I will.” He pivoted on his heel, his rage freezing over the white-hot sting of betrayal, and he walked out of the door.
“Reed? Reed!”
He was halfway down the hallway when he heard the footsteps behind him.
“Reed, please!” Joanna cried, her claw-like fingers digging into his arm. “It’s not what you think—”
“It’s not what I think?” He stopped, then turned to face her. “Then explain to me what I saw in there.”
“It’s just … this is …” Her face went scarlet, and she blew out a breath. “He was just a distraction, to pass the time.”
“A distraction? From what?”
“Until I became duchess and Lupa!” she spat. “But with my luck, I’ll be old and fat before I get to be called ‘Your Grace.’”
Dear God, did she even know what she was saying? What it would mean for her to gain either title? She wanted his parents … He let out a disgusted snort. “Get out.”
Joanna blinked. “Reed?”
“I’m going to take a ride. One hour. By that time, I want you out of this house.”
She sucked in a breath as her eyes filled with tears. “You’re joking.”
“I’m serious. One hour. If I see you, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
Stamping her foot like a child, she let out a cry. “B-but you can’t! Think of the scandal—”
“You should have thought of the scandal before you jumped into bed with Sherrington.” Did she really think he would just stay quiet to avoid gossip? She was a fool, then.
No, he was the fool. For being so blindly in love and not seeing what was obvious. And what his wolf was trying to tell him. His gaze dropped to her belly. “Is it even mine?”
She bit her lip, her hand going to her stomach. “I … I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He knew. Rather, his wolf knew. That’s why it didn’t feel protective toward Joanna. And why, since she announced her pregnancy, it seemed even more wary of her. “For God’s sake Joanna, Sherrington is human! What were you going to do when the child’s wolf didn’t manifest?”
“I … I didn’t think …”
“You’re right. You didn’t think.” Ice froze the blood in his veins as he pried her fingers off. “One hour. Not a second more.” Without another thought or backward glance, he walked away from her.
The tentative knock on the door didn’t break Reed’s concentration as he stared at the column of figures on the ledger he was working on. For the last two weeks, he’d been busy with estate affairs. He didn’t really care much about it while he was growing up, but he figured now was a good time to learn. His father hadn’t objected when he asked for more responsibilities.
Continuing to ignore the next knocks, he stared at the neat numbers on the page, trying to make sense of them.
“Ahem.”
He peered up at the sound of the feminine cough. “Hello, Mother.”
The duchess of Huntington stood at the doorway of his office, a tight smile on her face. “How are you, Reed?”
“I’m fine.” He turned back to the ledgers, but they made as much sense now as they had an hour ago when he began. Feeling his mother’s eyes on him, he looked at her again. “Is there anything else?”
She walked over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. It took all his strength not to flinch. “You know you can always talk to me or your father about anything. We are here for you.”
Of course, they knew what happened. He didn’t exactly have a choice. As he told Joanna, he went out for a ride and came back an hour later. She was gone, and he slept on the sofa in his office. In the morning, he told Foxworth to pack his things, as he did the rest of the staff because obviously, they all knew what had been going on and had some part in covering up their mistress’s affair. It was sometime late evening when his mother and father arrived, perhaps wondering why the invitation to tea never came, and discovered Reed alone in the house, finishing the last bottle of spirits in his liquor cabinet.
He told them everything. They were shocked of course, and much to their credit, didn’t tell him to go after Joanna to avoid scandal. In fact, they were quite supportive of him, tiptoeing around the subject for the last two weeks. And as for Joanna, he didn’t really care where she was. She could go to the devil.
He didn’t answer his mother, but instead, stood up and walked over to the window where he had a clear view of the street. “Did you come here to say ‘I told you so’? To gloat that you were right about her?” he said with a contemptuous sneer.
“Reed William Atherton Townsend, I am your mother, and you will not speak to me that way!”
This time he did wince and turned to her, feeling like he was seven years old again and had just broken her favorite teapot. “Forgive me, Mother.”
Her eyes softened. “Always, a bhobain.”
My darling. He couldn’t remember the last time she had used that term of endearment. He was probably a young boy, scared of the dark, unable to sleep until she told him stories about knights and kings who vanquished monsters and dragons.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she continued. “But you must decide what to do. The ton will start to talk. In fact, there have been a few unsavory tales spinning the rumor mill.”
“And do you care?”
She smirked. “Of course not.” And why should she? Annabelle Townsend didn’t give one whit to what the ton thought of her, a Scottish countess who had ensnared one of the most eligible bachelors in England. “But, your father and grandmother …”
Well, there lay the problem. His very English father and grandmother. The scandal would ruin the family, plus there was Eleanor to think of. Sure, she was a duke’s daughter, and it would be a few more years until she came out, but the stories would come back to haunt them by the time her first season came about. It would definitely affect her chances of making a good match.
But what could he do? He could not be in the same room, much less look at that traitorous viper, not after what she did and said. It was obvious now. All she was after was the duchess’s coronet and the honor of being called his Lupa. Did she ever truly love him?
“Have you heard from Lord and Lady Clearwater?”
“No.” He could only guess that their daughter’s actions had shamed them into staying away from him. At least Joanna had the decency to tell her parents the truth, not some convoluted version where he was the villain.
“You can’t hide forever.” She looked distastefully at the pillow and blanket on the sofa. “Or live in your office for the rest of your life.”
He could not bring himself to sleep in their bed again. Indeed, he hadn’t even entered the bedroom since that night. “If I had a choice, I would divorce her.” His mother didn’t react. “But I can’t, not without bringing scandal to the family name.”
“But you can’t raise a child that’s not your own. Especially not a human child who could never be Alpha.”
And that was the conundrum. Damned Joanna. What was she th
inking? If they were human, he could pass off any child as his own. But his family had held the Alpha position longer than they had the dukedom. He would either have to sire another Lycan child with Joanna or pass the Alpha title to another family. The thought of even touching that vile bitch again made him want to retch.
“So, we are at an impasse,” he said glumly. Maybe he’d be lucky, and Eleanor would find a Lycan husband and have a son who could inherit the Alpha title, if not the dukedom.
“Excuse me, my lord,” said the footman, Mercer, who had come to the door. After he had dismissed Joanna’s servants, his parents had sent over some of their own staff for the time being. “You have a visitor. A Mr. Archibald Barrow.”
Reed frowned. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“He says it’s an urgent matter, and he must talk to you immediately. I can tell him you’re indisposed and perhaps to call on you another time?”
He shrugged. It wasn’t like he was getting any work done today. “Let him in.”
A few moments later, Mercer escorted an older man with pure white hair carrying a leather letter case into the study. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord.” His voice was scratchy and hoarse. “My lady,” he said with a nod to Annabelle.
“My footman said it was an urgent matter. What is it?”
“Er, yes.” He took out a sheaf of papers from his letter case. “My name is Archibald Barrow, and I work as a solicitor for the West Moreland Shipping Company. They’ve tasked me … I mean, they … my job is …”
“Just spit it out, man,” he barked. This man was trying his patience.
Barrow’s spine went stiff as a board. “Your Lordship. I regret to inform you that your wife, Lady Joanna Townsend, Marchioness of Wakefield was aboard the Voyager bound for the Caribbean when it sank a few days ago.”
Annabelle’s gasp was audible. “S-s-sank?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“It’s ‘Your Grace,’” Reed snapped.
“Excuse me?”
“She’s a duchess.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “You are to address her as ‘Your Grace.’”
Barrow’s eyebrows shot up and he looked like he wanted to say something, but restrained himself. “Er, Your Grace. I mean, yes. The ship encountered terrible weather two days after they set sail from England.”
“And you’re certain she was on it?” Annabelle asked, her voice frantic.
“Her name was on the manifest, as was, er, her companion in the first-class cabin where she was staying.”
“Companion?” his mother echoed.
“A Lord Sherrington,” he said. “Before I came here, I spoke with his father, the marquess of Arden, and he confirmed that his son had indeed set sail for the islands.”
“Dear God.” Annabelle cleared her throat. “Mr. Barrow, I trust that all this information is kept confidential?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” he said.
“Even so, my husband, the duke of Huntington, will have his solicitor call on you tomorrow morning.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
“You may go now.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Barrow bowed low, then turned to leave the room.
She turned to Reed. “A bhobain.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Say something,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Anything.”
Reed stared ahead at the rich, dark paneling that covered the walls of his office. He should have felt grief at the news that his wife was dead. Or, if he were that type of man, expressed relief that there would be no scandal to mar their name. But right now, he felt … nothing.
Turning on his heel, he walked back to his large oak desk and sat down on the leather chair. Then proceeded to tally the figures he had left behind earlier.
Chapter One
“What do you think, darling?”
Elise Henney watched as her mother twirled around in the private dressing room at Bloomingdale’s, the green skirt of her dress swirling around her slim legs. “You look great, Mom,” she replied. “Just perfect.”
“Oh, you should try it on then,” Lara exclaimed. “If it looks good on me, then it’ll look good on you too.” They were, after all, identical in stature—same petite, curvy frame and flaming red hair, though Elise’s electric blue eyes were inherited from her father.
Elise chuckled. “When you told me you wanted to go shopping, did you really mean for me or for you?”
“Why, for me of course, but you can pick up one or two things for yourself, you know. I mean, what are you going to wear tonight?”
Her mother was talking about Lucas Anderson’s ascension ceremony, the reason they were in New York in the first place. Her own father was Alpha of the San Francisco clan and had close ties with the Andersons, but he couldn’t make it due to a scheduling conflict.
So that meant her mother had to go, and she’d insisted on Elise coming to join her for the long weekend. She initially protested because that wasn’t much time, but Lara was insistent. “We’ll take the jet, fly in on Thursday night and leave Sunday morning,” her mother had said. “Besides, we’ll be staying with Daric and Meredith. She was complaining she didn’t get to spend time with you the last time you were there.” It wasn’t like she could protest; it was an official function, and as the eldest daughter of the Alpha, she had to go.
“I brought something to wear,” she sighed. “It’s perfectly fine. Besides, I can’t afford that dress.”
Lara sat down next to her. “Then I’ll buy it for you.”
“No, Mom.” She’d been on her own for nearly a decade now, and besides accepting rides on the jet to go to official Lycan functions and the occasional vacation with her family, she paid for everything she needed and wanted with her own hard-earned money. “It’s fine. No one’s going to be looking at me there anyway.”
“Are you sure?” Lara said in a playful voice. “I mean, there will be lots of single—”
Elise stood up. “Maybe I will try it on.” God, she would rather do that than have this discussion with her mother. Again. “Where’s that personal shopper they assigned us?”
Lara’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful, darling. But,” she stood up and placed a hand over her daughter’s hands. Or rather, over the gloves she was wearing. “Why don’t you take those off? They don’t exactly match the dress.”
She yanked her hands away as if burned by fire. “No, I don’t think so,” she said in a flat tone. “I’ve changed my mind about trying on the dress. I’ll wait for you outside. Take your time.” Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the dressing room, closing the door behind her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and walked out to the main floor, pretending to browse through a rack of clothes.
Her inner wolf whined in a soothing manner. It was funny how she always felt at peace with her Lycan side. Her animal had always been a caring, sensitive creature, so in tune with her moods that some days it felt like it knew her better that she did herself.
I’m fine, she told it. We’re fine.
She loved her mother, she really did. But sometimes Lara just didn’t understand. Or maybe she was disappointed in her. Of course, she would never say it out loud, but Elise didn’t miss the disappointed looks on her mother’s face whenever the subject of her eldest daughter and magic was brought up.
But that’s what she was. A disappointment. She was the first hybrid—half Lycan, half witch—child born of a True Mate pairing, and yet, she was squandering away all her potential.
“Elise!”
Painting a smile on her face, she turned her head and saw her mother rushing out of the dressing room. “Yes, Mom?”
“I just …” Lara swallowed a big gulp of air. “Darling, I’m sorry. For being so stubborn about the whole … I mean, I won’t take you shopping again.”
She knew that Lara didn’t want to say the words. And frankly she was glad not to hear them. “It’s fine, Mom. I do like spending time with you. And it’s been a while since we had a girls’
weekend. Just you and me.”
She really was happy to spend time with her mother, and since they weren’t in San Francisco, it didn’t remind her of the past. After she came back to California when she graduated, she moved to Napa Valley where she worked for a non-profit animal shelter. It was perfect for her—the location and the job. For one thing, she loved being out in nature, and her home in the middle of the vineyards meant plenty of privacy where she would often shift into her wolf form and roam the hills. And for another, she adored her job. For some reason, animals loved her; her brother often joked she must be some kind of Disney princess. Growing up, she had always rescued stray dogs and injured birds.
She couldn’t help it, not when she was a child, and not now. It was like her inner wolf came with the nurturing nature witches naturally had. At least that was one thing she got from her magical heritage.
“I’m famished.” Lara looped her arm through her daughter’s. “Why don’t we head back to the loft? Your Aunt Meredith said she’s got lunch ready, and Aunt Jade’s joining us too.”
“Sounds great.”
Elise grabbed a few of the bags from Lara, and they headed outside to catch a cab downtown. As soon as they stepped out of the air-conditioned building, she stopped.
Lara cocked her head. “Elise?”
Her wolf went into alert, and a prickling sensation crawled over the back of her neck. Like someone stepping over your grave. Or they were being watched.
Looking up, she saw someone across the street looking their way. A figure in a dark hoodie. A large truck barreled by and obscured her view, and by the time it moved along, he or she was gone.
She shrugged. “It’s … nothing. I just remembered something.” Her inner wolf, however, was not calming down. Its ears perked up, and it sniffed the air as if trying to find a scent of something.
Her mother had raised her hand to signal a passing cab. “All right, let’s head back.”
Traffic during this hour of the day was surprisingly light, and soon they were walking into the loft in Tribeca where Lara’s two best friends, Jade Creed and Meredith Jonasson, lived with their husbands. The large former industrial space was actually split into two separate apartments that housed the two families.
A Witch in Time Page 2
