Page 49 of A Wolf in Duke's Clothing

“How is it that you have focused on me with such insistence? Can you tell me what it is about me that enraptures you so?”

“I will, I swear this to you, on my life and soul, when the time is right.”

“When will the time be right?”

“Soon.”

Her face fell, and he saw her, Felicity, behind the aloof mask she had donned. He came as near as he dared but did not touch her. “Trust me, Felicity, please.” He dipped his head to catch her eye, and she turned her head. “Bates and his men are scouring Town for clues that will lead to the truth.”

“It no longer matters,” she whispered. He yearned to lift her chin, to see her eyes, to let her see his, and see his wolf’s, but he must not risk it, he must follow their laws, he must wait to name her before all, and have her accepted by all, before he shared their secrets.

“It matters, because you have been misled, in a most egregious manner,” he said. “I will take steps to ensure your uncle will never have the opportunity to cause you pain in the future.”

“I object to violence and do not permit you to harm his person.”

“I will do what I think is right in this instance.”

The frost descended once more. “Against my wishes? Marriage to you becomes increasingly inauspicious.”

“It is inauspicious to begin with such calumny going unpunished.” He could not stop the growl of his wolf bleeding into his response. “I will avenge you as I see fit.”

“What good is vengeance? Lying to me was vengeful, and yet my uncle remains an unhappy, cruel man. If it was his goal to ruin my life, he did not achieve this ambition, for in you swept on your white charger and gave me an advantage he never would have reckoned.”

“Your pain is my pain.” He inhaled her distress, her grief, his wolf going mad with him toget on with it, get on with it!“It is my duty to exact the recompense that is yours for this betrayal. Else it will eat away at you, at your gorgeous, open nature, and make you bitter and small.”

Felicity pushed past him and went to stand at the window. “Nothing I say will dissuade you. I shall take my dinner on a tray and perhaps meet you again at our wedding, Your Grace. Or shall I call you Lowell? How like atonmarriage this already is.”

Alfred stood behind her, vibrating with revolt. A ruff of fur emerged around his wrists, his visage strained to devolve into the face of his wolf, and he fought against the Change. “Oh, no. Not one of those white marriages for us, my dear, not one of those society unions that are nothing more than business arrangements. You will come to understand that this is a fated meeting of minds and hearts. And that I mean every word when I say we will be true to one another. Forever. Look.”

She turned to him. He withdrew his hand from his pocket and thrust out a ring. “Here. This is a family custom, one that has been observed throughout centuries. Each of the Lowell wives receives them.”

“A betrothal ring? I believe the practice is in the midst of a renaissance. And that the bestowal of them is often an occasion of some ceremony.” Felicity clutched the neckline of her gown close to her throat. As much as he’d wished for another glimpse of her décolletage, he found himself captivated by her feet. She had the tiniest toes. “Your Grace.” He looked up, and her visage was frostier than ever. “I had begun to hope in the possibility we would suit, that we might forge a manageable, fulfilling future. An action such as this convinces me I must be mad to envision such an outcome.”

He held out the ring again. It was an heirloom, for Goddess’s sake. “If you will do me the favor of accepting this, then we may officially consider ourselves promised to one another.”

She stared him down and did not even glance at the enormous diamond that glittered in the candlelight. No one in his life had ever held his gaze like this. No one had ever faced him down in such a manner. If only he could tell her what he was, and why that made them what they were—he had to tell her. Enough was enough. He would do so, without waiting for his pack’s approval, now, this instant—

A coterie of footmen led by Mrs. Birks collected in the doorway. “There you are, Your Graces. We saw the open door. Will you go below, ma’am, or will you be joining Her Grace, Your Grace? It’s the work of a moment to fetch up two trays.”

“I shall be dining alone,” Felicity replied. “If the footmen will prepare the sitting room, Mrs. Birks? Thank you. Good evening, Lowell.” She lofted her brows, and he considered himself routed.

One last try. “Will you take this…?” His hand holding the ring hovered between them.

“I will not.” She turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

Alfred burst into his study, dispensing with his clothing. It would not do to allow his wolf to tear through his sash and garters. He tossed the ring onto his desk and growled when Bates and Coburn appeared. His butler remained trembling in the corridor, but his Beta strode forward, all satisfaction.

“Here is everything. Well, almost,” he said, brandishing a worn leather portfolio. “I have a flock of magpies combing the offices of Purcell and Sons, as nothing was found in the uncle’s residence regarding the baron’s true will. I cannot think that Purcell did not turn Miss Templeton’s home inside out, but it would be sensible to let the birds loose on the property—”

“Well done, Matthias. Coburn, I entrust those to you.” He dared not take the portfolio to consult the documents: they reeked of the scent of Purcell, a putrefying blend of duplicity, venality, and spite. “They are of the utmost importance. Take the utmost care.”

Coburn collected the portfolio and hopped away down the corridor.

Alfred took one breath, took another. “What else? Quickly.”

“We have alerted the King’s justiciar and sent along copies of the uncle’s fake document. I anticipate you will be called to Town to shed light on the drama.”

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