How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship #1)(7)

Faith shook her head. “I don’t think so. They were looking for some kind of object. They took my specimen case away from me, and opened it, and displayed the contents in front of everyone.”

“Oh, how horrible! What an abysmal welcome for you, poor child. I shall write a sternly worded letter of complaint to the government as soon as we get home.” Mrs Iftercast was clearly upset on Faith’s behalf.

Faith blanched. “Please don’t worry, cousin. It was just disconcerting. I think, well, I believe, that the gentleman who took my case was a vampire.”

The two ladies perked up at that.

“Oh, really? I didn’t think any of them could stretch their tether so far into Hyde Park.” Teddy sucked her teeth in thought. “Unless it was a rove, of course. And they usually go to Rotten Row. Which one was it?”

Faith hadn’t realized there were so few vampires in London that each would be known by name. Like the nobility. How extraordinary!

“Well, he was tall and blond and handsome, with pale blue eyes.”

Teddy pounced. “Do I detect a tendre?”

Faith held up a horrified hand. “I describe with artistic objectivity, not interest. He was rude, and probably a rake, or something like.”

“My dear girl,” said Mrs Iftercast, “all vampires are rakes. That’s what makes them so interesting. But I think you must be mistaken. There aren’t many blonds amongst the old-blooded these days. Lord Akeldama, of course, but you would have a great deal more to say if it were him. Everybody does. Are you convinced he was a vampire?”

Faith frowned. “Well, I assumed. It was something one of his men did, sort of indicated he was a supernatural creature. He was so pale, and aware of his own importance, I figured that indicated vampire. I’ve never met one before, so I’ve no basis for comparison.”

The Iftercasts looked at one another.

Teddy said to her mother, “Perhaps… do you think?”

“He is head of BUR these days. But if he were down at the green, supervising things himself, it must be a very important object they were looking for. Very important.” Mrs Iftercast sounded serious and interested.

“You know the gentleman?” Faith probed.

Teddy grinned at her. “When you said handsome, did you mean so good-looking you slightly wished to die right then and there, or offer yourself in sacrifice, but also not at all, because he likely would kill you without flinching and he certainly, without a doubt, would ruin your reputation?”

Faith nodded. “Yes, that’s about right.”

“Eyes so cold, you suspect they may cause frostbite?”

“You do know him.”

Mrs Iftercast rolled her own eyes. “Theodora dear, so poetic. Do I detect a new hobby? You should take up verse. It would be so much less trouble than riding.”

“No, Mums. Horses forever! But even you must acknowledge his beauty.”

“Everyone acknowledges it. That is partly what is wrong with the man.” Mrs Iftercast waggled her head in exasperation.

“What’s the rest of what’s wrong with him?” asked Faith.

“He is a werewolf, dear, not a vampire.”

“A werewolf? But he looked so…” Faith stuttered. “…so civilized.”

“Civilized? Major Channing? My darling girl, he’s more than civilized, he’s practically a politician. But not for you, I’m afraid. Your mother mentioned she thought you might do for a werewolf, but that particular one is unacceptable. I don’t see why you must set your cap at any of them, mind you, but if you insist, I will see what I can do for you. Ordinarily, werewolves prefer widows or spinsters, but you’re so pretty, we might find a way around that inclination. But, dear, don’t you want a family of your own?”

Faith felt a slight roaring in her ears. I did. I did want one. Once.

Mrs Iftercast was sensitive to her discomfort. She reached across and patted her knee. “Not to worry, cousin. I am certain you will do very well. London is lousy with werewolves these days. Several members of our London Pack are eminently eligible and quite stable. Although not Major Channing, dear. He is far too much of a bother.”

“Major Channing.” Faith rolled the name about her tongue. “I figured he might’ve been in the military once.”

“All werewolves serve, my dear, did you not know? But the major served longer than most and likes his officer’s rank. He is not active at the moment. The London Pack is remaindered out of the Guards right now because of their new Alpha. They gave Major Channing BUR to keep him occupied. He’s a restless sort. There are different kinds of werewolves. Major Channing is not the marrying kind.”

Faith didn’t know if she was relieved by this fact or perturbed. She resolved to put the exasperating man out of her mind and enjoy her new situation. The Iftercasts seemed friendly and chatty and nice. The fact that she was in London to net herself a werewolf husband seemed to be accepted as perfectly appropriate. She herself seemed to be accepted as such.

Faith felt, for the first time in years, almost happy.



Major Channing returned home to his pack shortly before dawn. Falmouth House was comparatively quiet, the children were abed (yes, there were children now, much to Channing’s continued annoyance). The rest of the pack were not yet returned from their various errands of business or pleasure. The clavigers were all gone to sleep. He’d missed the final meal of the evening, but he thought he might rustle up something out of the pantry if he were lucky and Cook was feeling generous.