“We’ll do our best.” Julianna winked at Elise. “Right?”
“Right.” Elise tried to sound as confident as Julianna. But in truth, she was nervous as a lamb. What would the outside be like?
“Ready?”
She looked at Cross’s outstretched hands, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. “Ready.” As his fingers closed over her gloved hands, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A cold sensation washed over her, and after a split second, she opened her eyes.
“Fucking hell.” Julianna let out a gagging sound. “What is that smell?”
As they stood in the shadowed, narrow alley, the stench hit Elise’s nostrils. “I guess romance novels tend to gloss over what history smelled like.” She pinched her nose.
“How do people stand it?” Julianna moaned.
“They probably get used to it,” Cross said with a grin. “Come on, it’s better out there, I promise.”
They each took an arm he offered and walked beside him as he guided them out of the alley. A fresh breeze greeted them as they turned the corner, and Elise took big gulps into her lungs.
“We’re close,” Cross whispered as they continued their stroll into the busy pedestrian street. They passed a few shops as well as people milling about. A few of them glanced their way as they walked by.
“Why are they looking at us?” Julianna’s eyes darted around. “God, I’m so tempted to tell these people to fuck off.”
While no one was outright staring at them, Elise could definitely feel eyes on them as they passed by. “Do you think they know?” Her wolf didn’t seem alarmed by anything. In fact, it had been oddly calm this entire time. Still, the looks they were getting from the people around them were disconcerting and she did her best to ignore them.
“The house is around the corner.”
Cross directed them to turn right, and as soon as Elise saw the building, she held her breath. So this was Hunter House. “House” was a misnomer—it was more of a grand mansion, taking up the entire block. It was imposing, but not garish, and done in a neoclassical style. It kind of reminded her of the house she grew up in, though this building was at least twice as big.
Julianna let out a low whistle. “Wow. It’s gonna take us a while to search the entire place.”
“I’m told it has at least ten bedrooms.” Cross slowed down as Julianna tugged on his arm, and they stopped right across the street from the house.
“That might be a problem.” Julianna pursed her lips. “Ideally, we could wait until everyone’s asleep and search one section each night.”
“But if we don’t find it in here, we’d have to search all his other estates,” Cross said. “That could take weeks.”
“How about if we get jobs inside the house? I could be a maid or something,” Julianna said. “Like undercover work. As a maid, I could probably access all the rooms easily.”
“Good idea,” Cross said. “Now.…”
A small movement from the corner of her sight made Elise snap her head back toward the house. Cross and Julianna were so deep in conversation that they didn’t seem to notice that the large gate was ajar.
“Guys,” she said. “There’s someone …”
It happened so fast Elise barely blinked when she spied the small figure slipping out between the gates. Her wolf instantly went on alert, and she suddenly became aware of her surroundings. The small footsteps across the cobblestones. The pounding of hooves, and the rattle of wheels. When she turned her head, she saw where the thunderous sound was coming from. A coach was speeding down the road heading straight for the child.
Her wolf’s instincts kicked in, and she wrenched free of Cross’s arm. Her Lycan speed allowed her to reach the center of the street and grab the young boy frozen like a deer in headlights before he was run over by hooves and wheels. The momentum was too much, however, and she and the boy were sent sprawling across the sidewalk. He screamed and she held his tiny body to her, shielding it as best she could as they rolled several feet until her back hit the metal gates.
“Oomph!” she groaned as she lay sprawled out on the sidewalk. Good thing for Lycan healing; her bruises would heal by tomorrow, but she was still going to be black and blue for a couple of hours. But at least the boy was safe. She peered down. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
“Y-y-yes,” said the small voice. “I just wanted to …” He let out a sob.
“There, there,” she soothed. “You’re fine. Just—” She stiffened as she took a whiff of the boy’s scent. It was undeveloped, but distinct enough that she knew he wasn’t human. A pup.
“Ahem.”
She startled at the low baritone. A shiver ran through her, but instead of being afraid or defensive, her wolf’s ears perked up, and it stood very still as if waiting for something. When she looked up from where she was sitting on the ground, she found herself staring into the darkest ebony eyes she’d ever seen.
Chapter Three
For the last decade, order, routine, and schedules ran Reed’s life. He woke up at precisely seven fifteen in the morning, dressed by eight, and sat down to breakfast by eight fifteen. His solicitor, Percy Whittleby, walked into his office by nine o’clock, where they could discuss the day’s business dealings.
If there weren’t too many things on their agenda, they would finish by lunch, and Reed would have a peaceful meal by himself in the dining room. If they ran later, then he and Whittleby had cold sandwiches and refreshments from twelve o’clock to twelve thirty before proceeding with business. In the afternoon, if he had the time, he would go to White’s for a drink or two or a round of fencing at Angelo’s before getting ready for the evening’s activities. While he preferred to go to the theater or ballet with his latest female companion, he sometimes had to attend some boring dinner party or ball at the insistence of his mother—
“Your Grace?”
Whittleby’s nasal voice was a welcome intrusion, and Reed allowed the cold numb feeling to smother the other emotions threatening to surface, along with the distinct yowl from his inner wolf. His head snapped back to the other man. “What’s next on the agenda?”
“Well, uh, there is the matter of the rental of the house on Barber Street.”
“Barber Street?”
Whittleby coughed delicately. “Yes, Barber Street. You had it rented for Miss Boudreaux, but it’s been three months since she … she left the premises.”
Ah, Anaïs. His mistress—former mistress, that is. The ballerina had been hysterical, threatening to leave him when he stopped visiting and paying attention to her. He didn’t really know why she was so vexed, not when he allowed her to stay in the house and maintained her allowance even though he had no need of her amorous attention. One would think she’d be grateful to have a patron who left her alone most of the time. French women were so temperamental. Last he’d heard, she’d taken up with a viscount from Yorkshire. “So, what about it?”
“The owner would like to know if you plan to … continue with the rental contract.”
“I see. Well—”
The sound of the door crashing against the wall as it opened and a delighted squeal stopped Reed short. “What the—”
“Uncle Reed, Uncle Reed!” a high-pitched voice cried, as a small blur dashed into the room.
Despite the interruption, Reed couldn’t hold back the small smile that was forming on his lips. William Lowell James Griffiths charged into his uncle’s office with the exuberance that only five-year-old children seemed to possess. He darted past Whittleby, sped around the large oak desk taller than him, and ran straight into his uncle’s legs.
“Hello, little pup.” He got to his feet and hoisted William into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
William’s blue eyes twinkled as he giggled. “Mama and I wanted to surprise you.”
“Is that so?”
“William? William!” Another figure—this one older, taller, and female—came rushing into the room. “I told you to wait for
me so Neville could announce us.”
For a moment, Reed felt his heart stop. Eleanor was the spitting image of their mother with her reddish blonde locks, petite frame, and bright blue eyes. They looked so much alike it made his chest constrict. Maybe that was one of the reasons he’d seen less and less of her over the past months. He knew it was unfair, but he just didn’t want to be reminded of the tragedy of their parents’ sudden death.
Eleanor Amanda Griffiths, Countess of Winford walked in, stopping halfway when she saw William in his uncle’s arms. “Apologies for the interruption,” she nodded to Whittleby, “my son can be a handful.”
“Good morning, my lady.” Whittleby shot to his feet. “And no apologies needed.”
“Still, we interrupted your chat.” She walked over to Reed and then reached out for William. The young boy seemed reluctant, but when his mother raised a brow, he scrambled into her arms. “Please, go on and continue your discussion. You can pretend we’re not here.”
Whittleby’s eyes bulged, and he sent a pleading look to Reed. Of course, matters such as mistresses were not discussed before delicate ladies, so he decided to spare the other man. “Actually, Whittleby was just about to leave. But, to answer your last question, no I will not be continuing that contract.”
Whittleby looked relieved as he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. “I’ll take care of that matter then, Your Grace.” He bowed and then looked to Eleanor and William. “My lady. Lord William.” After a deep nod, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Reed turned to his sister. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?”
Eleanor looked at him innocently. “What, I can’t miss my only brother and want to see him?”
That comment hit its mark and he winced inwardly. “You know you’re always welcome to stop by.”
William began to squirm. “Mama, can I please go and play?”
She sighed and set him to his feet. “Do you promise to behave?”
His little head bobbed up and down. “Yes, Mama.”
“All right, off you go.” She had barely finished the sentence when he broke free of her grasp and scampered toward the door. “And stay in the house!” she called after him. With a shake of her head, she turned back to Reed. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine.” That was his standard answer whenever Eleanor asked him how he was. What else could he say?
“I would ask you if inheriting the dukedom has made you any busier, but then you’ve always been obsessed with work.”
He tried not to let her tone irritate him. “I have seven estates and half a dozen businesses in England, plus more abroad to oversee and run.”
“And I know that you were able to expand the family estates and holdings because you’ve worked nonstop for the last ten years,” she said. “And now … with mother and father gone—”
“My responsibilities have tripled in the last six months.” He didn’t want to hear the words. Yes, he knew mother and father were gone, but hearing it out loud was another thing. “And soon I’ll be Alpha of London.” The ceremony would be held sometime in the next two weeks, once the Lycan High Council finished arrangements for their trip to London.
“But surely you can find some time to relax? Enjoy the season?”
“Surely you’re joking,” Reed said in an incredulous tone. “Why would I want to be out now, of all times? All of London’s mamas will be looking at me like some prized stallion to breed with their debutant daughters.”
“Reed Townsend!” Eleanor looked like she wanted to faint.
“Oh, come on now, Ellie,” he said, using the childhood nickname he had for her. “You’re a married woman.”
“You’re so full of yourself, just because you’re young and handsome.” She placed her hands on her hips. “If only those mamas and their daughters knew what a terrible husband you’d be, only living for work and business.”
“Well, they don’t want me for my winning personality, that’s for sure.” While it might seem egotistical, he was no fool. Reed knew he was a catch, not only because of his title but also for his wealth. The fact that he wasn’t old and decrepit was a small plus, but he knew many women would do anything for a duchess’s coronet. Like Joanna.
His wolf growled at the mention of the name. Indeed, he’d spent the last ten years drowning himself in work just so he didn’t have to think of her.
“Reed?” Eleanor’s brows were furrowed together. “Are you all right?”
His answer was automatic. “Like I said, I’m fine. Did you and William want to have lunch here with me? You know I can always ask Neville to tell the kitchen to prepare your favorites.”
“That would be lovely, thank you, Reed. But there was something I needed to discuss with you.”
“Of course.” He motioned for her to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk, then sat in his own leather seat. “What is it?”
“It’s about our cousin, Bridget. Uncle Alec’s daughter.”
“Yes, I remember her.” Bridget MacDonald was the daughter of their mother’s cousin and Beta. No, he corrected himself. Technically, Alec MacDonald was now Alpha of Caelkirk, after Annabelle Townsend passed away.
While both entailment of the earldom and Alpha title of Caelkirk allowed the eldest child—regardless of sex—to inherit, it also limited it to the members of the clan. So, while Annabelle was Alpha, when she died, the only way Reed or Eleanor could inherit the Alpha role and title was to renounce their status in the London clan. Reed was already to be Alpha of London and Eleanor didn’t want to give up her life in England, so they were happy to let their Uncle Alec inherit both titles. Indeed, as Annabelle’s Beta while she lived in London, Alec MacDonald had been running the clan for the last thirty years anyway. He didn’t have any sons, so both titles would eventually be passed on to Bridget.
Reed thought back to when he last saw her. “She’s what … fourteen? Fifteen?”
“Actually, she just turned twenty.” Eleanor’s lips pursed together. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember?”
She took a long, drawn-out breath. “Uncle Alec wrote a month ago and asked that we take her in and sponsor her for the season. I asked you if it was all right since it had been six months since Mother and Father passed away.”
He quirked a brow. “And I said yes?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, I see.” Glancing at the half-written letter sitting on his desk, he realized that he had meant to continue that as soon as Whittleby left. The letter was for one of his lawyers in—
“Reed, are you listening to me?” Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest.
“What?” He shrugged. “If I said yes, then of course you should do it.”
“Excellent.” She clasped her hands together. “Grandmama and I will be meeting her and determining which balls and events we should take her to. You’ll have to come to the major ones—”
“Me?” He asked in an incredulous tone. “Why do I have to go to balls with her?”
“She needs every bit of support behind her,” Eleanor reasoned. “It’s not that simple to launch her into society. She’s not exactly … I mean, you know … she’s …”
“Scottish?” Reed finished. “She’ll also be a countess in her own right and an heiress. Surely between you and Grandmama, she’ll be a smashing success in London.”
“But she’s not English, which means she’ll most likely attract fortune hunters. But that’s not the only thing.” Eleanor let out a sigh. “Uncle Alec says she’s already met most of the eligible bachelors in Scotland, and none of them are her True Mate.”
“And how the devil is she supposed to know him?”
“You know how,” Eleanor said in a serious tone.
He scoffed. “Right.” The supposed legend that Lycans from his mother’s clan knew their True Mates at first sight. “What nonsense—” He stopped when Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him.
“You know it’s n
ot nonsense.”
“I wasn’t going to call it anything,” he said defensively. “Ellie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … that is … I know you’re very happy with Winford and I’m glad for you both.”
Since Reed had never met his supposed True Mate before and even after Joanna, they had all thought that maybe the legend only applied to the Lycans who were pure Scottish. However, much to their surprise, Eleanor had recognized Jeremy Griffiths, Earl of Winford, as her True Mate.
Jeremy was fifteen years older than Eleanor and was just coming back from the war with Napoleon. Though he was part of the London clan, he hadn’t been around since before the war began, so he’d decided to pay his respects to the Alpha. It was at her coming out ball that Eleanor had spied Winford and recognized him as her True Mate. Their mother had been excited, and though the then-duke of Huntington had his reservations, he couldn’t deny his daughter or their True Mate pairing. Of course, they were married after an appropriate engagement period, and his nephew, William, arrived nine months to the day of their wedding. A year later, the clan’s Beta had passed away and Winford was selected to be Beta, a position he still held today.
“Don’t tell me you still don’t believe, Reed,” Eleanor said. “Maybe you just haven’t met—”
“It’s not that I don’t believe.” That was not quite a lie, but nor was it the truth. But how to explain to her? “I think … maybe it’s not everyone in our family that recognizes their True Mate right away. I mean, Grandfather and his father never did.” In fact, according to their records, the only Alpha to have ever met his True Mate had been Lowell Townsend. “Maybe because it’s only on mother’s side of the family that only half the people on our side will have it.”
“You mean, because I inherited it, maybe you didn’t?” she asked skeptically.
“Perhaps.” Definitely. That was it. Eleanor had the right idea.
“But … it’s just …” A sigh escaped her. “When you meet your mate and you get this feeling …” She blushed and clamped her mouth shut, her lashes lowering. Like their mother, Eleanor never talked about what it was like when she first met her True Mate, like it was some damned secret.
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