How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship #1)(25)

It was, oddly, lonely without him. She was surrounded by eager swains, fashionable gentlemen who wished to bask in the glow of London’s favorite American, Lord Falmouth’s original. Many a young man was eager to take advantage of Major Channing’s absence. They were curious, too; what had such a werewolf seen in her? What about this girl had captured the attention of such a confirmed recalcitrant reprobate?

Faith did her best to meet social expectations. To be vivacious and sparkling even though she felt lackluster. Conversations with other men were so much more stilted, so much less intimate. She missed the way Channing held her when they danced together, slightly too close, slightly too hard – as if he could not stand to let her go. As if she could lean back in his embrace and they might spin and spin until they untethered from the earth and flew.

There was some speculation when he abandoned her without solidifying the deal. Had she lost him? Had he been toying with her and deluding them all? The ton did not like that possibility at all. So, naturally, it was much discussed.

Faith suspected that they would side with her if it came to light that he had played her false. It made her a little sick to even think of it. But London had adopted Miss Wigglesworth, and they would not take kindly to Major Channing mistreating her. It was so much the opposite of Boston, it almost made her cry. That these strangers would give her the chance that had been withheld by her own people, by her own family.

Oddly, she felt a strange sympathy for Channing. Even as one week stretched to two and he remained away from her. Even as she doubted him. London was so very eager to blame him. To see Faith as the wronged party. They had probably doubted him from the start. They would not be surprised if he abandoned her, but they would not forgive him for it.

And yet, this is his home.

He is as mistrusted and as unwelcome here as I was in my mother’s house.

It made Faith terribly sad for him, and angry at herself that she could not stifle her own compassion. Even as he stayed away from her. Even as it became evident that he would repeat the past. Another werewolf betrayal.



“Where have you been?” she asked, after three whole weeks without seeing him. Not even at the hat shop, and she had visited four times. I missed you, she felt, behind the words, and tried not to let that show. And I own far too many hats now. Thank goodness Biffy had taken to simply gifting them to her.

“Hunting deadly little creatures of American make.”

“I’m not deadly.”

“I was not hunting you.”

“Did you catch them?”

“They are still at large.”

Faith nodded, wondering if there was some connection to the embarrassing scene on the embarkation green when she’d first met him. Wondering that he could cut her off so completely. Wondering if this thing that was nothing between them had ended.

“Will I see you at the Brophys’ ball?” she asked. But what she meant was Are you letting me go?

“I returned to town with nothing but that in mind.” He was, as ever, all sarcasm and indifference, but his eyes were hot, as though he wanted to eat her up; she knew the truth in that moment. He wanted her very badly indeed. He had tried to stay away and failed.

I could have you, she thought. If I wanted to try a real werewolf.

“Will you save me a waltz?” There was something in his tone that suggested what he really meant was Are you letting me go? His eyes begged, even as they watched the pulse in her neck.

“You may have the dinner dance,” she replied, and meant it this time. She knew exactly what was offering.





STEP SIX


  Take Your Werewolf into The Garden for an Airing


  They Must Be Exercised Regularly


Channing ruminated for a long time over the letter he’d just received from his contact in Boston. There was nothing new on the Sundowner bullets. He was beginning to think they had never existed at all. Except that his contact also said there was evidence of the manufacturer frantically searching for them.

So, they must never have arrived at their intended destination. Which meant they were somewhere loose in London, or somewhere loose in Boston. They really did exist – or why would anyone else be looking for them?

It was the second half of the letter that had him frowning, troubled over the contents.

He had asked, quite casually he thought, for his agent to look into the Wigglesworths.

The man was a consummate professional and, as such, assumed that this was BUR business. BUR meant supernatural and thus his information concerned the intersection between Faith’s family and the supernatural set in Boston.

In New England, werewolves and vampires were barely tolerated and mostly ignored. They lived on the outskirts of society and did not influence or govern it as they did in England. After the American Civil War brought them out of the shadows to fight for the North, werewolves were granted citizenship and considered modestly acceptable in Yankee states, but remained utterly unwelcome south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Still, religious institutions throughout the states stood firm and rallied against them, and preachers held considerable sway over the American psyche.

The Wigglesworths, as it turned out, had had nothing to do with the local population of supernaturals. They’d also had very little to do with those who objected to their existence. At least until recently.

Staunch conservatives, the letter stated. But not Sundowners and only active politically in the matter of anti-supernatural legislation. Faith’s father was instrumental in passing a segregative act that prevents werewolves from entering the city of Boston except under escort. Ironic, considering they fought for the Union. His was the deciding vote.