The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(13)

Add that to the already nervous sensation of seeing Hunter Wolfsbane, Lord Haverstone, and she was ready to scream. But if this was the only way to be sure her family and her country were safe, she would do it. One last mission, one last time to prove to herself and Hunter that she was above the gossip, above the stares. She was her own woman, a modern woman. And if she wanted to debut after such a scandalous winter, then that was what she was going to do.

A plan began forming in her head.

"I see this makes you happy, Gwen, and for that I am happy." Rosalind rose and kissed her on the cheek.

"Oh yes," Gwen answered, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. "This makes me very happy." She smiled warmly and rose from her seat. "If you'll excuse me then, I just have some preparations to make before this evening's ball."

"If you need help…" Rosalind touched her arm. "Allow me?"

"Of course." Gwen left the salon, her slippers sliding quickly across the floor as she made her way up to her rooms.





****





Hunter gazed up at the mansion in front of him and sighed. Clearly things were bad when he was going to the Beast for some cheering up. Dominique had been the most depressing fellow to be around before his marriage, and now it seemed that he needed to cheer up Hunter. There was something so tragically wrong with the thought.

He needed to get ahold of himself.

With another soothing breath, he ran up the stairs and knocked on the front door.

The butler answered and lifted an eyebrow.

And because Hunter needed a bit of cheering up…

And because he was feeling slightly inebriated since he had taken a few strengthening drinks of brandy before making his way over to the Hariss residence…

He sneezed in the butler's face.

"Apologies!"

The butler cursed, which everyone knew could get the man sacked; must have been a good sneeze. Hunter grasped the lapel of the butler's stiff jacket and wiped his face.

"State your business and be gone…, sir." The butler stepped away.

"My business is not your business, George."

"It's Samuel."

"Nathanial, listen here." Hunter leaned in. "I'm having my trunks sent over, and I'll also need a room."

"The hotel is down the street."

"Daniel! Where is your sense of humor?"

Samuel's shoulders puffed up, and his cheeks soon followed. Interesting fellow, but Dominique was never one to hire conventional butlers. Weren't they supposed to be seen and not heard?

"Sir, I must ask that you—"

"Hunter!" Isabelle ran down the stairs. Silly girl, clearly she hadn't learned the ways a lady should behave. Not that he would want her any other way. Blast, she absolutely glowed.

"My lady, it seems your current state agrees with you." He leaned down to kiss her cheek but was interrupted by Samuel clearing his throat.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Hunter asked.

Samuel turned red.

Isabelle swatted Hunter. "I am so sorry, Samuel. The Duke of Haverstone is an old friend, and will be staying with us for the Season."

Was it Hunter's imagination or did the butler just curse under his breath as he walked away?

"Cheeky fellow."

"He's Russian." Isabelle shrugged. "Now, come have tea with me and tell me all about your reason for spending a Season in London. We both know you'd rather get trampled by a horse than marry."

Hunter flinched at her words.

Isabelle paused and looked at him with curiosity. "I didn't mean anything offensive, Hunter. It's just that..." Her eyes watered. Blasted emotional woman.

"It is nothing. I was merely shocked you still possessed a sense of humor after living with Dominique for a few months."

"I missed you, too," Dominique said, bounding through the room looking healthy, virile, and extremely satisfied with himself. Curse the man. Maybe Hunter merely needed to find himself a mistress.

After all, it had been several months since his last encounter, and that one had scarred him to such an extent he hadn't had the courage to face a woman again. The lady in question had drugged him within an inch of his life and then proceeded to eat her dinner whilst on top of him. The thought gave him a shudder.

"Still feeling under the weather?" Dominique poured them both a glass of brandy. At this rate, Hunter would be foxed before the ball this evening.

"No, simply repulsed that Isabelle would find you charming enough to share your bed every night."

Isabelle smirked. "Believe me, he's—" Her face flamed red as she looked down at her hands, making Dominique laugh aloud.

Incredible. Hunter was now in his own version of Hell. Marital bliss surrounded him, and memories of his dead wife plagued even his waking dreams. He hadn't thought anything could possibly get worse.

"What are your plans for the Season?" Isabelle tried her best to engage him in conversation.

Unfortunately, his mind was working quite slowly. He blamed the brandy. So he blurted out, "I'm to find a wife."

Dominique began coughing wildly while Isabelle laughed.

"I was not jesting."

"Oh," they said in unison, causing a painful silence to blanket the room.