Page 2 of Lady Petra and the Wolf

To his perverse satisfaction, the lady gave a small start. This brought him a frisson of pleasure as Lady Petra never had an eyelash out of line. As the only child of one of the most powerful peers in the realm, she never offended or gave a harsh opinion. In truth, she rarely showed true emotion. The only reason Wolf noticed her eagerness in glancing towards the entryway was because he had been watching her for years.

Not on his own account, of course. She was all things that were lovely, if one was interested in that type of woman. Darkly beautiful. Petite, but curved in all the right places. He recognized that her reserve likely came from two wells: first, a distant scandal attached to her cousin’s family, and second, her half-Greek blood, which was a well-known secret amongst certain members of the town. While her grandfather had presented himself to the Earl of Kemberley as Arnold Thawne, it was widely known he was really Aristotle Thanassis, who thought his fortune and dubious connections to the late Lord Byron could buy his daughters into the British peerage.

While Wolf understood her poise, he always wished that she would let one hair fall out of place. So he could push it behind her ear. Or twine a curl around his fingers and give a light pull.

Discarding such unbidden and maudlin thoughts with a sharp shake of his head, Wolf, or more precisely, the Viscount Wolfridge, meticulously schooled his features into a practiced sneer of casual indifference as the lady regarded him once more with those large, doe-like eyes. They had been introduced long before, so it was not untoward for him to address her so. Besides, he was the best friend and business partner of her supposed betrothed.

“Lord John Longley is not in town. Is that not who you were searching for?”

Lady Petra regarded him for a long time and Wolf instantly regretted approaching her thusly. He had intended a haughty inquiry, but the words tumbled out with an urgency that now felt entirely inappropriate. Her dark brown eyes were framed by lashes so thick and sooty they cast a slight shadow beneath the arch of her perfectly sculpted brows.

Her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to peel back layers of his composure. Her eyes flickered back and forth between his own as if scanning his features for some tell-tale sign of deception.

Wolf felt himself laid bare under her piercing gaze, painfully attuned to each minute flicker of his own features and the frantic, unbidden thrumming of a heart that had grown quite unruly. She wasn’t just looking at him, she was trying to uncover something within him, an intention or a hidden motive that he was certain he hadn’t even fully articulated to himself.

After a moment, Petra offered a minute nod, her features settling into a mask of cool politeness as she averted her eyes, seemingly unwilling to enter into the spirited banter Wolf so habitually invited. Finding himself strangely agitated after her protracted perusal, Wolf made to mentally sharpen his casual indifference as if it were a weapon.

“You know, my lady, when you marry Longley, you would be Lady John. Not the comeliest title, I grant you, but soon you would be Lady Camborne, which does have quite a ring to it.”

As he had discovered from the multitude of times he watched her before, her eyes were her only tell that she was flustered. Though she had likely perfected the art of schooling her countenance over the years, maintaining that mask of cool indifference for the sake of propriety, she had never fully mastered dulling her eyes.

How could she? They were warm and inviting, a stark contrast to her otherwise cool and elegant demeanor. His smug sneer faded a little as it dawned on him that she had to constantly maintain this composure. This realization sparked an unexpected feeling within him—perhaps kinship, or maybe even sorrow.

Lady Petra turned the rest of her body toward him slowly, her eyes full of fiercely contained fury. “You think I wish to marry Lord John so I would be Lady Camborne one day?”

“It certainly doesn’t hurt, does it?” His casual indifference, which was often at the ready, was difficult to summon. Why was it always so difficult with her?

“I wish to marry Lord John because he is a good man. He could be the ragman and I would wish to marry him, to take me—” She shut her mouth abruptly, the sparks in her eyes extinguished as she retreated once more into the mask of a composed, distant lady. He despised when this happened, as it did ever so often when he approached her. He lived for the moments he could tease her, to break her composure, to see those eyes light up, even if it was in disdain or scorn.

Wolf knew himself to be an unrepentant rake, undeserving of John’s friendship or loyalty. Despite this self-knowledge, a fierce, uncharacteristic longing arose in him at that moment: he wished for someone to argue so passionately on his behalf, to proclaim him a good man.

Remembering himself, Wolf discarded such a maudlin thought.

“I am not obligated to explain my motivations to you, Lord Wolfridge.” Her tone was meticulously polite, yet beneath the kindness, he detected a veiled reproach that ignited his blood.

“And yet…” he went on as if he had not heard her. “Your white knight is not here. Nor has he been here in a very long time.” In her eyes, a battle of pride, hurt, and anger raged, and for a moment, he nearly regretted his casual cruelty. Yet, there was a purpose behind his malice.

“You more than anyone know he is busy.” Petra spoke quietly, her words clipped. “I have long wondered why you do not share the same sense of industry as Lord John.”

Indolent. The word lurked in their conversation and Wolf again regretted pushing this issue to the surface. A lord does not dirty his hands with work. He takes what he wants and leaves the work to others.

Ignoring his father’s tedious voice, which always stirred a confusing mix of feelings, he redirected his thoughts to his best friend, John Longley. John possessed all the virtues he lacked: he was honorable, kind, and diligent. He would despise him if John weren’t like a brother to him. Why did the notion of Lady Petra marrying John trouble him so much? It was none of his concern.

Yet, he couldn’t let it go.

“Has he not communicated that to you himself, Lady P?” he asked, relishing the way his lips popped on the P. He could swear he almost saw a tick of her jaw at his use of the sobriquet bestowed upon her by the gossip rags.

“As we have established, Lord John is very busy, my lord. He does not have time for frivolous goings-on of the ton,” she said more firmly this time.

“And yet, my lady, I can see the small seed of doubt this might cause you.” He watched her jaw almost tick again, and for a brief moment, savored the victory of being right. “Does his absence not pain you, Lady P?” He wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome he wanted from his teasing, but he relished the rare opportunity to be able to read her expression.

Her eyes met his, and he was struck again by the intensity of her gaze as it searched his face. He felt her assessing his intent, seeking any hint of malice or desire to hurt her. In that moment, he understood that such an aim was entirely absent from his heart. Wolf could not quite articulate the purpose of his banter, but an instinct told him Petra and John would not suit. It was patently clear that John possessed not the slightest inkling of the gravity with which Petra had regarded their supposed understanding.

John’s ignorance was not due to neglect; in fact, he was one of the few gentlemen who didn’t seem inclined to constantly leave his wife behind. Rather, he had been distracted by some persistent, unspoken melancholy, as though his mind and heart were fixated entirely on someone or something else. Wolf suspected, however, that the cause of this melancholy was not Lady Petra, given that the look of longing vanished whenever her name was mentioned.

Staring into Petra’s mahogany eyes, a plan came to him. Devious, perhaps, a bit underhanded, but one that would prove to Petra that she and John would not suit.

“Let me court you,” he blurted out.