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Felicity gasped, standing so abruptly, her chair tipped over onto the floor. She scanned the letter again, fingers tracing along the beginnings of the sentences, threw it down on the table, and ran out the French doors and away.
* * *
A mere breath behind her, Alfred entered the parlor, accompanied by his Second and armed with an enormous bouquet.
“Your Grace!” Coburn cried. “Her Grace has run off, I believe in reaction to the contents of her post.” He gestured to the missive on the tabletop. Alfred read it, found it to be nonsense, and thrust it at his steward.
“This was not the plan,” he growled. Petals once more rained upon the floor as the blossoms shook in his grasp. “Today is the day, damn it all to Hades, for wooing and such, not for chasing and Goddess knows what—”
“‘Save mares,’” said Bates.
“Ibegyour pardon?” Alfred bellowed.
“This letter, from her cousin. A rudimentary code at best, one we ourselves dispensed with well before we’d donned our long trousers—”
“Mares?” Another bouquet met a terrible fate.
“Miss Templeton’s, one assumes,” Bates said. “It is an acrostic. See? The initial capitals of each sentence form a message.” Alfred snatched the letter out of his hand, read it, and then crushed it in the fist that had strangled the poor flowers.
“What do you require, Alpha?”
Alfred drew up thedominatumfrom the well of strength within him, deeper than he ever had drawn before, and in so doing, realized he had only ever been dipping shallowly into the depths of his power. It crystallized into a form he had never experienced, not as a mode of suppression or oppression but as a force for unity. He sent it along thesentio, and the strength he exuded wedded with that of his people, down those invisible connections, became infinite in its capabilities. Before his eyes, as Bates, Coburn, even the footmen, incorporated the benefits of their Alpha’s puissance and made it their own, their creatures showed in their eyes, fervid yet obedient, ready to do whatever was required for their Alpha and for his newly namedvera amoris.
He went to the French doors, scented his mate, discerned she was headed for the stables, and turned to the room. “It is fortunate that she will never make Templeton House before we will. She must not engage with whatever transpires. Her safety is paramount. Felix, Leo, wait until she has ridden away, then tell Marshall to gather the colts and that I will be there directly.” They cricked their necks and headed out the doors. A disturbance in the air met with a pair of yowls, and two abnormally large, ginger cats tore across the lawn.
He turned to the footmen in the breakfast room. “Shaddock, take those here and ensure that Her Grace stays safe on her way. Coburn,” he turned to his faithful butler, who was quivering with the need to provide service in some fashion. “Send word to Gambon and tell him he is needed and to bring as many men and women from the Close as can be spared. Bates.” His Second was grinning like a loon. “I cannot see the enjoyment in this, Beta.”
“If you do nothing else for your betrothed but as the letter bids and what you have in train in the Close, then you are minted.” Bates kicked some of the broken blossoms out of his way.
“Alpha, what news?” O’Mara ran into the room. She picked up the letter from the floor and read it.
“‘Save mares,’” Bates said and filled her in on the plan in his usual succinct fashion.
“I can prove useful in my Changed form,” O’Mara offered.
“We’ll give the colts an outing,” Alfred said. “It will do them good to be heroes.”
“There is the chance that Her Grace may make good time,” O’Mara said. “It would not do for her to wonder at an assemblage of creatures who would not normally mix.”
“It matters not,” Alfred replied. “I can wait no longer. She has been named and accepted. I will foil whatever dastardly plot is afoot, and then I will show her my true nature.”
“That will require the utmost care,” said O’Mara. “Try to bring the thought into her mind gently, what our history is, what we strive to achieve as a species. Nothing too abrupt or dramatic.”
“Sweet, blessed Venus.” Bates shook his head and headed away to prepare for his Change.
“Shall I join you, Alpha?” O’Mara asked. “Only in order to begin the conversation. If you think she would talk to me?”
Alfred’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, I know to whom she’ll speak.”
Fifteen
All was going to plan: Cecil had led his brother and his father’s hired guns on a wild goose chase to Templeton House, delaying their arrival in hopes that his express delivery post would arrive at Lowell Hall in good time. It had been decided by his father that the slaughtering of the mares would take place under cover of night, which was all well and good in the pages of a Gothic novel but another thing entirely when ferrying hired help beyond the bounds of London Town. Never mind that the two mammoth wagons, one reserved for the corpses of the beasts, were not the most subtle of conveyances. Added to this, of the seven thugs, only two had ever been as far south as the Seven Dials; the five who were not as well traveled had begun grousing after the first hour. As it was, between changing horses and a providentially shattered axle, it was noon before they reached their goal.
They had not decided upon this day—or rather, Father had not—until they were very nearly on the road itself. He had been correct in the location of the animals: the first field had been bereft of beasts and the second, farther from the house and well hidden if one did not know what to look for, had proven to be the correct paddock. It seemed there was nothing beneath his father’s notice.
Cecil fretted. Had Felicity received his letter? She hadn’t responded to his first, even though he had hinted he was waiting for her reply. Surely she had discerned his clever little construction? His secret message? He had spent a good deal of his pocket money on that daybreak express delivery, which he hoped the duke would be glad enough to reimburse. How awful it was to be a grown man dependent upon a quarterly allowance! In throwing in his lot with Felicity, let him be utterly honest, he was not in fully altruistic mode. He wanted a reward, perhaps enough for him to set off in trade on his own, perhaps enough even to go into competition with Purcell and Sons. He laughed, and his brother sneered at him.
“When Father discovers you brought us here so late, you will not be chuckling to yourself, I do declare.”
