How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship #1)(36)

Her campaign was probably going as well as she could hope. She hadn’t seen Channing in several days, but Biffy positively beamed at her when she dropped by the hat shop.

“What are you up to, little American?” he teased. “Our boy is flustered. I’ve never seen him flustered before.”

“Killing him with kindness,” said Faith.

“That’s no joke. With Channing, it might actually kill him.”

So, she was feeling almost optimistic.

Until her parents came to town.



It was Teddy who told her.

“Oh, Faith, you’ll never believe it, but your mother and father have just arrived in town. They are downstairs in the hallway.”

Faith felt sick. “What?”

“Apparently, Mums wrote them. Ages ago, right after we visited the hat shop the first time. Mums was so chuffed, you see? After such noted attention from Lord Falmouth, she felt certain we would be announcing your engagement imminently. And to a werewolf, no less, exactly as your parents wanted. Then, when Major Channing began to avoid you, she forgot to write again to warn them off. It likely wouldn’t have done any good. They had already set out across the Atlantic. They came by steamer, if you would believe it? Not by dirigible. In this day and age, so old-fashioned. No offense.”

“Well, they are old-fashioned, but really, Mother hates floating.” Faith was still in shock. There’re here. Why are they here? Mother hates London. It’s full of monsters.

“Oh, heavens!” Faith collapsed back onto her bed. “Do they expect to stay here, too? Is there room for them? And if not, will I have to go with them to a hotel?”

“Why, Faith, you’re trembling. Of course you must remain with us regardless. You will stay here with us! You’re proper family.”

“But… appearances.”

“Hang appearances! I’m sure Mums will make the offer, but it would be very cramped quarters if they accepted. You’re already in Charlie’s room, so Cyril and Colin would have to double up. They hate doing that.”

“My parents can afford to stay somewhere else.” Faith was upset on her host’s behalf. “Trust me, Teddy dear, you don’t want them here.”

Teddy nodded, glumly. “I told Mums they were perfectly horrid to you. I thought Mums understood what that meant. But you know how absentminded she gets. And she never takes me seriously. She’ll invite them to stay. We can only pray your parents understand the limits of this household and decline on the basis of convenience.”

“Agreed,” said Faith.

Teddy eyed the door. “Should we go down, do you think?”

“I suppose it would look strange if I didn’t. They’re my parents, after all. Save yourself, Teddy, and stay up here.”

“I should never let you go into battle alone!” Teddy was fierce.

Faith pressed her cousin’s hand. “You are a dear and loyal friend.”

So it was that Faith and Teddy marched down the grand staircase together. Faith clutched Teddy’s burly little arm for support. Teddy wore a militant look upon her round face. Faith looked calm and collected, only the dampness of her grip betraying her weakness.

It’s silly, really. It’s not as if I didn’t live with them for twenty-four years. But for the last few months, in London, Faith had felt both free and safe. It was the best she had ever felt. The Iftercasts had given her a home for the very first time in her life, a true sanctuary. Now, knowing it was possible to find family a comforting environment, the very idea of returning to the withered bosom of her former life seemed not only unfair but cruel.

Fortunately, Faith’s parents still did not want her. But they did want to see what she was up to.

They had taken rooms in the Beaumont Hotel, and there was no space for Faith there.

“We hope you don’t consider us officious, imposing our wayward daughter upon you a little longer? Only until this engagement, at which you hinted, comes to fruition.”

Mrs Iftercast blanched and looked desperately at Faith. Faith shook her head slightly. By all means, let my parents think I have the protection of a pack along with a prospective husband.

“Speaking of which, Faith, where’s your maid?”

It was such an entirely unexpected inquiry, and such sudden focused attention from her mother, that Faith started. “Minnie?”

“Why, do you suddenly have some other maid?”

“She’s not here.”

“Not here. What do mean, not here? Have you misplaced her? Are you going around London randomly scattering maids to the four corners?”

“No. She’s on loan to my seamstress.”

“What?” Mrs Wigglesworth went positively purple about the face. “Why on earth?”

“Minnie is handy with her needle, and my need for dresses outweighed my need for her assistance at home.”

“Well, that explains the appalling state of your hair.”

Faith touched her coiffure, a perfectly innocuous twist pinned to her crown with a few curls arranged down one side. Nothing offensive or particularly special about it.

Mrs Wigglesworth persisted. “Where is this wayward maid, exactly? Give me the address of your modiste. I’ll go retrieve her immediately.”

Faith blinked, surprised. Never had her mother taken much interest in Minnie. A daughter’s maid, once safely situated, was beneath Mrs Wigglesworth’s notice. They were not at odds, not even after Faith’s disgrace. Minnie had never been blamed. Faith supposed, if she thought on it at all, she would have said her mother utterly indifferent to Minnie’s very existence. Why the attention now?