How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship, #1)(45)

At the nanny’s insistence, the gentlemen put the babies down and filed out, leading Faith and her cousins into the dining room.

There, Faith and the Iftercasts sipped tea and nibbled bread-and-butter sandwiches while the werewolves, and those few clavigers still around, ate vast quantities of roast mutton and chopped liver on toast and tried not to be too bawdy, although it was clearly a trial for them.

Faith was in heaven. It was fun. They were fun.

Minnie stayed with the children in the guise of helping put them to bed. Faith hoped that her keeping busy would put her mind at ease. It wasn’t entirely effective; Minnie eventually slipped into the dining hall to stand in one corner, clutching her sewing tool kit and watching the raucous werewolves with wide, fearful eyes.

Teddy stretched over at one point to grab the butter, almost across Mr Zev, who was leaning far back in his chair in order to throw a roll at Mr Bluebutton for being “that much more of a pompous twig than usual.” Teddy’s own breach of etiquette was wholly disregarded (except by her mother, who glared and hissed, “Theodora, resume your proper seat this instant!”).

Another bun flew across the table at Zev and missed Teddy only because she lurched aside to hiss at Faith, “Do you think this is what goes on at a gentlemen’s club? Oh, would you look at Mums! She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I guess they were very much on their best behavior when we were all here for dinner before.”

Faith swallowed down a grin. “Either that or the absence of the three top-ranking wolves leaves a vacancy in proper conduct.”

“Oh, do you think? Of course. That is possible.”

Mr Ditmarsh gave them a wink.

Oops, thought Faith, supernatural hearing, I forgot.

“Sadly, ladies, we are always like this. Lyall threatened us with turnips for a week if we didn’t behave when you first dined with us.”

“We hate turnips.” Hemming grabbed the next flying roll right out of the air and took a huge bite out of it.

“To a man,” added Quinn.

“To a wolf, shouldn’t it be?” wondered Faith.

At which juncture the door to the dining room burst open, although from where Faith was sitting, she couldn’t see anything come through it.

Then Minnie screamed as if she were being murdered.



Faith saw his tail first, white and fluffy; it swayed back and forth like a banner. Then a massive wolf trotted around the table and stalked directly towards her.

She barely noticed there were two other wolves behind him, both smaller, one dark, one light.

But this wolf was magnificent – pure white, enormous but lean, a true predator. His eyes were icy blue and his pink tongue lolled out one side of his mouth, panting. He must have run very fast to get back to her so quickly.

He trotted to Faith and without pause placed his saucer-sized front paws, most likely dirty from running the streets of London, onto the side of her chair and stood up.

He leaned forward and pressed his head into her neck and huffed at her.

Which was when Faith unfroze. It was not that she’d been afraid, only that she had prey instincts exactly like any other human. Here was a wolf, hunter, and if Mr Darwin was to be believed, somewhere inside her, way back, was a monkey, small and afraid. All she had been able to think, for those first few moments, was that she was sitting in the dining room and a wolf was charging at her. But now she realized who that wolf was.

“Good evening, Channing.” A new instinct kicked in, that of beloved, and Faith twisted in her chair to bury both her hands in his thick fur. It managed to be both soft and coarse at the same time, and it was very warm and lush.

“You got here quickly. Did you hear that I brought you a present? A sort of engagement gift.” She didn’t know if he could understand her when he was a wolf. He’d mentioned something once about not being entirely himself when he was in his shifted form. But he must have some level of intelligence, for he clearly recognized her.

She pushed back from the table and stood. He pressed against her side, almost herding her, separating her from the rest of the men in the room.

She allowed it, resting her hand on his head as he led her through and away from the others into the hallway.

A squeak of horror gave her pause.

Minnie had followed them, barely breathing, almost petrified with fear. It was one thing to know that werewolves existed; it was another to be confronted by incontrovertible proof.

“Join us, please, Minnie.” Faith tried to sound encouraging.

The wolf growled.

“Now, now, Channing, Minnie is instrumental in this. She has your gift.”

Minnie whispered. “Please, miss, don’t make me.”

Faith closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “Give them to me, then.”

Minnie delved into her tool kit and handed over the velvet drawstring bag in which they’d stashed the bullets. Faith had to lean forward and grab them from her maid, as the wolf, teeth bared, stood between them.

Minnie turned and fled the house.

Faith wondered if she would ever see her again.

Channing nudged her towards the back of the hall, stopping expectantly in front of a large and imposing door.

“In here?”

He chuffed at her. He really was a particularly fine-looking wolf, with that lovely white coat and those beautiful blue eyes. Faith didn’t find him fearsome in the least, now that she was accustomed to the idea.