She laughed. “One hundred and eighty?”
“That’s what Reed said. Huntington Park has one hundred and eighty rooms.”
“Well, we better get started soon,” she said wryly.
“Elise, if Reed tries to get too close—”
“He won’t,” she bit out. “I mean, he’s not going to be there, remember?”
“True.” He let go of her hand and stepped back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you.”
As she watched him dematerialize, fatigue began to set in. She was so tired. All she wanted was to go home to her own bed and her own time where things made sense. And, if she were really honest, she was eager to put as much space and time between her and Reed Townsend, before he made her feel things she had no right to feel.
Chapter Six
Elise hadn’t dreamt of the incident in years.
She thought it was all behind her by now. But maybe it was all the years of bottling it up inside her that now it was threatening to explode.
He’d been her first crush. Her first love.
It was in first grade that she had first met Chris Lopez, when he scared away some bully trying to steal her lunch money. Since that day, she never left his side. Lara and his mom thought it was cute the way Elise would follow him around with that puppy-dog look in her eyes. They became best friends in second grade and were inseparable until they turned sixteen. She confessed her love for him the night of prom.
And then she nearly killed him.
It was so clear that it was like she was living it again and it wasn’t a dream. The sequence of events was captured in her mind so fully, it was like it was yesterday and not fourteen years ago.
His car stopping just outside the gates of her house.
Telling Chris that she loved him.
Him, leaning down to give her her first kiss.
Her hands going up to cup his jaw.
The white-hot shock of electricity that shot through her lips and hands as a thousand volts of electricity flowed into Chris.
His body going limp.
“Miss, miss!” Came the frantic cry that woke her up from the nightmare.
Elise sat up in bed, her vision still blurry. “Sorry, what time is it?”
The indistinct shape beside her bed came into focus. “It’s still early, miss,” Melinda said. “But it sounded like you were havin’ a nightmare.”
“I was,” she confessed. “Thank you for waking me up.”
“I have some breakfast for you,” she gestured at the tray on the bedside table. “After you finish eating, I can help you get ready for travelin’ today. I have your gown all pressed and ready.”
“That would be lovely.”
Her hands were still shaking from the vivid dream, but she pushed those thoughts aside. Food might help, she thought as she reached for the tray.
Despite the fact that the toast tasted like ash in her mouth and the tea was like dank water, she gulped it all down. Then Melinda helped her put on the fine cream muslin gown and traveling jacket plus the matching boots. By the time she came down, everyone was already downstairs and ready.
“The coach is ready, my lady,” Holden informed them.
“Excellent, thank you, Holden,” Eleanor said.
The trip to Huntington Park wasn’t bad, Elise supposed, and Eleanor said it would only take three hours, and riding inside the comfortable coach was a treat she’d only read about in novels. The inside was spacious and luxurious, large enough to hold Eleanor, William, Cross, Julianna, and herself. William seemed shy and curious at the same time, giving her glances as she sat across from the young boy, which didn’t escape Eleanor’s notice.
“William,” she began. “You didn’t properly thank Miss Henney for yesterday. Would you like to say something?”
The young boy nodded. “Miss Henney, th-thank you.”
Elise thought he was adorable, the way he was so formal. “You’re welcome, Lord William.”
He then turned to his mother. “Are we nearly there yet?”
“Almost,” Eleanor assured him.
She nearly burst out laughing as it seemed being impatient during family trips was a universal thing. “Lord William, would you like to play a game?”
“What game?” His eyes widened.
“Julianna and Cross should know this one,” she said, looking at her companions. “It’s called ‘I Spy’ and it goes like this.…”
The rest of the trip breezed by as they played the game, and Eleanor even participated. When they arrived, the household staff was lined up in front to greet them. After all the formalities, Eleanor led them to the drawing room. “Edwards, the butler, informed me that Bridget is already there and that Grandmama’s coach should be arriving shortly. If you don’t mind, I think it best we all get acquainted.”
When they entered the drawing room, there was a young woman seated in one of the couches, facing away from them.
“Cousin Bridget,” Eleanor greeted. “It’s nice to see you again. Oh my, you have grown up!”
The young woman stood up and curtsied. “Lady Winford—”
“Eleanor,” she insisted. “You’ve always called me Eleanor, remember? Though you were so young then, you probably shortened it to Ellie.”
Bridget’s pretty face broke into a smile and her blue eyes sparkled as her shoulders relaxed. “Ellie, yes. I remember. You were always so nice to me, even though I was a bit of a rambunctious child, always running around and getting my dress dirty.” The lovely lilt of her Scottish accent made her sound like she was singing.
“I remember, all right,” Eleanor chuckled. “But I recall being jealous of you because you could do all those things. Oh! Excuse me, I haven’t introduced our guests.” She introduced Cross, Julianna, and Elise to Bridget and briefly told her about them.
Bridget looked relieved. “I’m glad I won’t be alone going to my first season.” A frown crossed her face. “I had hoped my True Mate would be someone back in Scotland, but my da’s been waiting for two years, and I’ve met every eligible Lycan and human in the county and still nothing.”
That was the second time someone mentioned about knowing their True Mate, and although Elise was dying to ask what that was all about, she refrained.
But apparently, Julianna didn’t have such restraints. “Hold on a minute!” Julianna held her hands up. “Can you explain to me about this knowing your True Mates thing?”
Bridget opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when the butler entered and announced, “Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Huntington.”
The tension in the room suddenly thickened and Eleanor quickly turned toward the entrance. Though she hadn’t instructed them to do the same, they all seemed to naturally follow her and faced the woman standing at the threshold.
As the dowager duchess strode in, Elise knew why she commanded such respect. Despite her age, the power emanating from her was difficult to ignore. Elise felt her own wolf—and the others around her—cower and shrink back. It almost reminded her of Reed’s presence which made sense. She was technically Lupa of the clan and Reed’s grandmother, after all.
“Your Grace,” Eleanor began. “Allow me to introduce our guests to you.”
The duchess said nothing but raised a brow. She was the picture of matronly restraint and calm in her dark brown traveling outfit, but the power brewing in her was there, simmering at the surface.
“Mr. Cross Jonasson, envoy of the Alpha of New York, and his cousins, Miss Elise Henney, and Miss Julianna Anderson who is daughter to their Alpha. Mr. Jonasson, this is my grandmother, Miranda Townsend, the Dowager Duchess of Huntington.”
“How do you do, Your Grace?” Cross gave a smooth bow. “It is an honor to be here, and we thank you for welcoming us into your territory.” Elise and Julianna followed with deep curtseys.
“And of course, you know my cousin, Bridget MacDonald, daughter of Lord Alec MacDonald, Earl of Caelkirk and the Alpha.”
“Thank you for welcoming me into your territory, Your Grace.” Bridget did the same deep curtsey.
The silence as Miranda Townsend’s hawk-like eyes roamed over them was deafening. She addressed Bridget first. “You have excellent coloring, very fashionable. But then again, blonde and blue-eyed girls always are.”
Bridget’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.
The duchess then turned to Elise. “I almost thought you were Bridget, with those brazen tresses.” She wrinkled her nose. “No pink for you, it would look dreadful with your complexion and hair. You’re pretty enough to turn heads, though.”
Elise was so shocked at the older woman’s rudeness she didn’t know what to say.
Finally, she turned to Julianna, and her face twisted in horror. “Oh my.” The duchess’s nose wrinkled. “You’ll need the most work. Far too tall. You have a good face, but those eyes destroy the symmetry. And that skin.” She tutted. “Did your mother let you run around the fields?”
Julianna looked dumbstruck. “E-excuse me?”
“You’re far too tanned,” the dowager duchess remarked. “From now on, you will not be permitted out in the sun.”
“I’m not tanned,” Julianna exclaimed. “I’m Italian.”
From the look on the duchess’s face, one would have thought she said “serial killer.”
“Italian?” came a voice from behind the duchess. The dowager’s presence was so arresting that no one had noticed the man who crept in behind her.
The man who stepped out from the duchess’s shadow was older with white hair and a beard, and he wore a rich red velvet coat and trousers. “You are Italian?”
The dowager’s face remained impassive. “I almost forgot. I have a guest as well. This is Signore Franceso Rossi, an envoy sent by Prince Giovanni, the Alpha of Florence. He’s my guest.”
“I am not just a guest,” Signore Rossi said with a deep, flamboyant bow to the ladies. “I am also a gift.”
“A gift?” Eleanor asked.
“Prince Giovanni is not just my Alpha, but my patron as well,” Rossi explained. “I am an artist. He has sent me here to paint the portrait of your family, as a gift and to strengthen relations with your clan.”
“I’ve not decided if I shall accept the prince’s generous offer.” From the tone of disdain from the duchess’s voice, it was obvious what she thought of the offer. “But I have allowed Signore Rossi to accompany me here and perhaps he may be inspired to paint the landscape … or something else.”
“It is very different, England,” Rossi remarked. “But, bella.” He turned back to Julianna. “You said you are Italian?” He spoke a few words of Italian.
Julianna nodded. “On my mother’s side.” She replied with a few words and from the way her eyes darted at the duchess, Elise could only guess what she was saying.
“English, please,” the duchess demanded. “Signore Rossi, if you are to stay with us, then you must speak in English, at least in our presence.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” He bowed to the duchess. “My deepest apologies. It has been many weeks since I have spoken my native language and to speak with such a beauty as Miss Anderson”—he smiled brightly at Julianna—“is a rare treat for me in this land.”
“You’re forgiven, Signore.” The duchess turned to Cross. “Do the ladies have a dowry?”
“A substantial one, Your Grace,” Cross assured her.
“Grandmama!” Eleanor exclaimed, clearly embarrassed at her grandmother’s behavior. “Can we not speak of such things later?”
“Of course,” the duchess said. “We have far too much work ahead of us.” Her eyes trained on the three women again. “And we don’t have much time if we are to launch these women into society. I insist we begin immediately. Madame Marie is already in the parlor, where she can take their measurements for their gowns. They will need many outfits.”
“I’ve brought my own gowns, Your Grace,” Bridget said.
The duchess’s head snapped back to the young girl. “I’m sure you have.” She pivoted on her heel. “Come. We have no time to waste.”
“Maybe you’d like to check my teeth too,” Julianna grumbled.
“What was that?” The duchess didn’t even bother to turn her head.
“Nothing, Your Grace,” Elise offered and grabbed Julianna by the elbow.
“Good,” the duchess barked as she walked out the door. “Men don’t like women who talk back.”
If they were in a cartoon, steam would have been coming out of Julianna’s ears, but Elise yanked her elbow in the form of a warning.
“Do not be fooled by the duchess’s demeanor,” Rossi said in a reassuring tone. “I’ve spent some time in her company in the last week. I know she means well.”
“I think she was rather disappointed I never got my own launch,” Eleanor said with a laugh. “And she didn’t have any daughters. She wants you all to make good matches.”
Julianna grumbled again but said nothing.
“All right then.” Eleanor clasped her hands together. “As Grandmama said, we don’t have much time, and there’s so much you have to learn. Let’s get started, shall we?"
“Kill me now,” Julianna stage-whispered. “Please. Or I’ll do it myself.”
“It’s not that bad,” Bridget giggled as she whirled past them in the arms of the dance instructor that the dowager duchess had employed. He had also brought along his own pianist, a Monsieur Delacroix, to accompany them.
“Surely you’ve gone through worse than this?” Elise asked.
“I’ve had to learn how to resist torture,” Julianna said. “And believe me, this is worse.”
The whole afternoon flew by in a whirl of activity as the duchess and Eleanor threw them into a gauntlet of preparations for their coming out. First was Madame Marie, an apparently well-known seamstress who did the gowns for only the most fashionable ladies of the ton. She spent most of their time complimenting each girl, but also bemoaning the lack of time and hands she had to prepare all their outfits—which was of course, soothed by promises of additional funds by Eleanor and Cross. When Madame was dismissed, they sat down to learn table manners which wasn’t too bad as Elise and Julianna knew which fork to use with what, though the duchess scolded Bridget a few times for picking up the wrong spoon.
Finally, after tea, they were now moving on to dancing lessons. Elise wasn’t terrible at it—she did learn to waltz, and she was thankful her mother had been insistent she and all her siblings take lessons when they were teens. But Julianna had been terrible, and the instructor, Monsieur Fermin, nearly walked out twice before Elise suggested Bridget ought to have a turn.
“A natural dancer,” Monsieur Fermin said to the young Scot as he gave Julianna the side-eye. “Unlike others.”
Julianna stuck her tongue out at Fermin; a bold move, but she must have dared it because the duchess and Eleanor were deep in conversation in the other corner of the dancing room.
“That’s not the way a lady behaves,” the duchess said without looking up at them.
“Jeez, she must have eyes on the back of her head,” Julianna groaned.
Elise suppressed the giggle in her throat. She caught Cross’s eye from across the room and wondered what he was thinking. Since he hadn’t been dismissed by the duchess and he didn’t have a reason to take his leave, he had no choice but to join the ladies in their “lessons.” The duchess barely paid any attention to him though, except for asking him a question about Elise or Julianna or their fathers’ supposed wealth. Cross had answered with half-truths here and there.
“I had heard that the Alpha of New York owns many properties in the colonies,” the duchess stated. “How about Miss Henney’s father?”
“He is in the … food and medicinal business, Your Grace,” Cross said.
“A merchant?” The duchess gave a delicate wrinkle of her nose.
“A wealthy one, Your Grace.”
Elise supposed that was technically true. Her father had
one of the most successful biotech companies in Silicon Valley, while her grandparents had started a grocery chain and restaurant supply company.
“Well,” the duchess harrumphed, “as long as he can pay for her gowns and upkeep, I’m sure her background won’t be a deterrent.”
“I’m seriously going to deck her, I don’t care if she’s old,” Julianna growled under her breath. “I really will.”
“It’s not worth it,” Elise chided. “Besides, maybe we’ll find the dagger and we’ll be out of here soon. Just play along, okay?”
The dowager duchess turned to Monsieur Fermin. “How are your lessons going?”
Fermin stopped the dance and nodded to the pianist. “Splendid, Your Grace,” he assured her. “I won’t stop until these ladies are the belles of the ball. They will be the most graceful—” His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets. “Your Grace!” He took a deep bow.
All eyes went to the entrance of the dance room. Elise felt that white-hot sensation in her belly as she saw Reed standing there, looking devilishly handsome in his dark traveling clothes. Everyone immediate got to their feet save for the dowager duchess.
“Reed,” the dowager duchess’s face turned surprisingly tender as she accepted a kiss on the cheek from her grandson. “I was told you weren’t going to be here.”
“I’m allowed to change my mind, aren’t I?” he said. “It is my house.” He turned to the other occupants of the room and nodded at them so they could take their seats. “Cousin Bridget, you’re all grown up now.”
Bridget curtseyed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“And, Monsieur Fermin, is that you?”
The dance instructor’s face brightened. “I’m glad you recognized me, Your Grace.”
“How could I not?” Reed’s mouth quirked into a smile, making him look less severe. “I spent hours under your torture—er, tutelage.”
Instead of being offended, the dance instructor merely laughed. “And you turned out so splendidly, did you not? His Grace has been the best student I’ve ever had.”
“Maybe he can give us a demonstration,” Eleanor cackled.
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