How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship #1)(17)

There were major politicians, minor royalty, aristocrats of every ilk, acceptable gentry, leading members of the ton, the very wealthy (which included a few fellow Americans), and, of course, noted members of the supernatural set. Because the hosts were progressive, the bevy of musicians set to entertain were drones belonging to the Wimbledon Hive. There were some clearly theatrical young men sent to fill the numbers and dance with all the ladies, but whom Faith took note to avoid, because they were clavigers. Faith had mingled with clavigers before, much to her shame. She would not ruin her chances in London.

There was one solitary vampire, the stunning Lord Ambrose, about whom all in attendance were curious. The last few decades, he’d rarely left his hive, and to have stretched his tether so far as Papworth House was an honor for all concerned (and a sublime coup for the hostess).

Lastly, there were three members of the London Pack – its Alpha, its Beta, and, much to everyone’s shock, its Gamma. Major Channing caused quite the stir, as he never attended social events and eschewed balls as if they conferred alongside the punch some plague only werewolves could catch. And he was not wearing gloves. At a ball!

Lady Papworth-Walmsley was in ecstasies. Teddy explained that hers would be the assembly to beat for the remainder of the season. So long as the evening went smoothly, of course.

“No doubt she is a little nervous to have werewolves and a vampire. It’s known they rarely mingle well. But I suspect even an altercation could only add to her standing.”

“Teddy! You are wicked. Do you think it likely?” Faith’s eyes flicked between the vampire to one side of the room, and Biffy and his Beta (a nondescript sandy-haired gentleman) on the other.

Teddy scoffed. “With Lord Falmouth present? I think it highly unlikely. He is so civilized, especially with his Beta nearby. But Lord Ambrose is an unknown entity. Just look at him. There is a gentleman who could tempt any young lady into sin.”

Faith could only agree. On an aesthetic level, Lord Ambrose formulated anyone’s ideal of what a vampire ought to look like. He was tall, dark, and handsome with a pale, sardonic brow and sculpted lips. Even as she stared, he seemed to sense her regard, and his eyes, predatory and sharp, homed in upon her. He took in her dress and hair and then focused on her neck, white and exposed with only the narrow velvet ribbon to indicate she was not available for feeding. He looked like he wanted to lick his lips.

Faith only barely kept herself from flinching.

His eyes caught on something behind her, and he sneered and turned back to his conversation, expression just this side of insultingly bored.

“Lazuli,” said a voice with which Faith was now unfortunately familiar.

Faith prepared for battle and turned to face a man equally as tall, with lips equally as shapely as those of Lord Ambrose, but with maybe too many teeth and eyes the opposite of dark and brooding. “Major Channing. How are you this evening?”

“Very well.” He looked it too, his lanky form in perfectly executed evening wear. His blond hair was queued neatly back.

“I understand this is not your typical haunt, sir.”

“Haunting? No. Hunting, yes. Would you like to dance?”

Faith fumbled with her chatelaine, searching for her card.

“Now.”

Faith offered up her hand, feeling, it must be admitted, a little overwhelmed by his presence and by his insistence. She shivered, thrilled.

This was what she’d always hoped for in a werewolf.

They had a simple waltz. His hand on her back was sure and cool and very strong. She could feel power in those fingers, that supernatural strength, not that he muscled her about the floor, but it colored all his actions with caution. He did not wish to hurt her.

“How goes your hunting, Miss Wigglesworth?”

“I’ve not gone hiking for rocks yet. Although I seem to have caught myself some hats.”

He seemed to be trying not to smile. “That was not the hunting to which I referred.”

“Isn’t it gauche to talk of such things?”

“Look around you, my Lazuli, see all the matrons with their precious daughters? See how they bend and flutter. See how they circle in on prospects and targets. Hunting is Britain’s favorite sport, especially amongst the ladies of the ton.”

“And what are you hunting, Major?”

“Information.”

“And you think you’ll be successful at this particular assembly?”

“There are some interesting players in place.”

“You refer, perhaps, to Lord Ambrose?”

“Things are always more interesting when a vampire is involved.”

“There are probably many who say the same thing about werewolves.”

“They are not quite the same thing.” It was clearly important to him that she understand this.

“So I’ve been told. Funny, but I originally thought you belonged to the fanged set when we first met, and yet I find you belong to the furballs instead.”

“They thought so too, once. Werewolf suits me better.”

“Does it? You don’t seem the type to play well inside a pack.”

“It is not often a choice.” He gave a faint smile. “All this you have gathered on my character in the space of one conversation about rocks and another about hats? Or have you made enquiries about me in particular?”