How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship #1)(26)

That was all he had to say except at the very last, where he had appended a note.

There is good evidence to suggest the youngest Wigglesworth, a daughter, was the victim of a calculated act of revenge on the part of a local werewolf pack. In response to her father’s support of the above-mentioned act, the pack set a claviger to ruin her. He courted, bedded, and then declined to marry her – publicly.

Channing put down the missive, feeling sick. Oh, my poor Lazuli, to be so humiliated. Being unmarriageable in her own country, they send her here to net a werewolf. Why? As an act of revenge? Her family thinks to punish us with her? What could possibly…

Marshaling his courage, Channing returned to the letter. His agent was blunt and to the point. The young lady refused to cry rape, admitting to having been a willing partner.

Channing felt a little like he might cry, for his brave girl had taken the blame, knowing it would destroy her. Probably, she also knew she had been set up from the start. How she must hate werewolves.

“Channing.” His Alpha came into the library. “I must talk with you.” Biffy caught Channing’s expression then. “What’s wrong? What has happened?”

“Another dead end,” Channing answered, folding up the missive. “What did you need, Alpha?”

“You’re being curt with the servants again. I know you won’t do them actual violence, but—”

“I won’t?”

“But they don’t know that. And the clavigers are skittering about you on tiptoes, some of them literally since we secured that handsome ballet dancer to our den. You know we are short on clavigers. I can’t have you being grumpy and running them off. I know navigating the social melee has you twitchy and upset, but could you please not take it out on them?”

Channing grunted.

Lyall gave a tiny cough at that juncture. How did I miss him coming into the room as well? I must be distracted. What is this girl doing to me?

“Sometimes, Professor, I doubt my own werewolf nature, for I did not see you there.”

Lyall ignored this. “You are not usually this bad except when you’re recently home from war.”

“You’ve made a study of my temper over the decades?”

“Someone had to,” muttered Biffy.

Lyall continued, a slight smile on his plain face. “You are one of those who struggle to leave battle behind and return to civilized life. Why do you think I have always tried, over the years, to be with you or to be there to welcome you home?”

Channing frowned. Thinking back to all his battles and wars – France, Spain, India, Africa, so many over the years. Lyall had indeed been there, mostly to step in and take a blow intended for another, or to divert his attention into a shift and fight, so he did not destroy those around him.

Channing winced – another flaw to add to his ever-growing list. “I was made in battle. It’s difficult to abandon sometimes. That violence is part of me. I’m not certain how much of it is natural or supernatural anymore – wolf nature, Gamma position.”

“And yet you miss fighting when you are home, do you not?” Biffy moved closer to him.

“Dealing out death is the only thing at which I am truly accomplished anymore.” Channing thought the Alpha might touch him then. Channing wasn’t certain if he wanted it or feared it, so he stood up from the desk and moved away from all possible sympathy.

He said, “BUR is keeping me occupied, and there is the occasional fight for honor or for pack. I visit the old regiment sometimes. But only a werewolf can really give me a challenge. In a good way, I mean.”

Biffy and Lyall exchanged a look.

“There is another outlet,” said Lyall at long last, with great circumspection.

“Some of the ladies down Albany Street are very accommodating to a wide range of tastes.” Biffy was a great deal less circumspect.

Curse the pack for being a bunch of meddling gossips.

Channing curled a lip at him, which, with another Alpha or another topic of conversation, might be considered a challenge and grounds for discipline.

“And how, Alpha, would you ever know such a thing?”

Instead of taking offense, Biffy laughed. “I listen to the others talk about their light-skirts, for all I do not understand the inclination.”

“Then perhaps you should have sent one of them to me with this well-meaning advice.”

Biffy’s eyes went hard. His voice turned ruthless. “Stop terrorizing the servants, Channing. I don’t care how you get yourself out of this twitchy, angry mood you are in, but do it now. I believe I preferred you as a cold, elusive pollock.”

Channing grinned. “Now you see why I work so hard for that state. Anything else is worse.”

Biffy rolled his eyes. “You could try being happy. Or would that strain something?”

“He doesn’t know how.” Lyall’s voice was sad.

Biffy glared at them both. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, he’s a werewolf, and he likes to fight. Is it so wrong to suggest he might, oh I don’t know, fight for her?”

Then he stormed from the room.

Channing’s jaw clenched as he watched his small Alpha march out.

“It hurts when he is disappointed in you, doesn’t it?”

Channing’s eyes flicked to his Beta. “This is no unusual occurrence. My Alphas over the decades are chronically disappointed in me. I have dealt with it before. He will get over it. They always do.”