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Wesley cocked a brow. Her words were laced with a heavy helping of jest, but there was something motherly about her.
“Who are you?”
“I’m the Countess of Stalbridge,” she responded without acknowledging Wesley’s shock that she could understand him. No one had been able to understand him since he’d shifted into this monstrous form. It was possible she’d simply anticipated his question.
But he’d rather think that someone might finally understand him like this. Surprisingly, it gave him some comfort. He didn’t dare go as far as thinking she’d accept him. So his guard would stay up, and he would attack if needed.
“None of your beastly friends have mentioned me before?” she asked.
“Don’t have any friends.”
“I’m not sure I believe that. This virus seems to be a common affliction amongst your kind, Lord Andrew Wesley, Duke of Chelmsford.” She tapped her gloved hand against her chin. “Lord William Roth, as you knew him in his human form, has become a frost flame demon. Quite an interesting sight to behold, if I do say so myself.”
Wesley huffed, missing the camaraderie with his old friend. He would make sure the countess would never describe him as interesting. She’d describe him as a beast.
“I can assure you he’s not holing up in an underground den.”
“Waiting,” he snarled.
“You can speak in complete sentences, Your Majesty. Your ferocious act is not fooling anyone, especially me. There’s only so long you can hold everyone else responsible for your fate. And more than that, keep your beloved wondering what happened to you.”
“Don’t you dare talk about Phillipa,” he snarled.
“She’s the reason you’re here, isn’t she? Watching over her, because you can’t tear yourself away from her. You begged your family not to tell her what happened to you. But you have yet to reveal yourself in this form. If you intend to keep her, you must claim her. Otherwise, she will ruin herself while she awaits word of your fate.”
“Won’t let that happen.” He bit out each word.
“Watching over her and terrorizing her otherworldly friends, demanding they fix your affliction, will not save her. Only you can do that.” The countess nodded as Wesley’s mouth dropped.
“Not like this.”
“Yes, exactly like that.” Another satisfied nod at Wesley’s astonishment. “I’m not sure if your friend Lord Roth has mentioned the Monsters Ball to you. He attended our last gathering. I happen to be its hostess. It is my greatest joy in life to help find misunderstood creatures such as yourself the love of their lives.”
Wesley didn’t understand. “Already did.”
“The reason I’m in Southampton is to deliver a demand, signed by Queen Charlotte herself, that Miss Phillipa Willoughby attend the next Monsters Ball.”
“What? No.” Wesley seethed, and it took every shred of humanity buried deep beneath his fur not to attack her. “Phillipa is my wife.”
“She’s a lady without a husband. The Duke of Chelmsford was reported missing on his wedding night, and according to The High Tea, he disappeared before he had a chance to consummate the marriage.”
A growl confirmed the gossip rag’s assertion.
“Miss Willoughby’s mother tried valiantly to have her participate in this Season, even attempted to have the marriage annulled many times, but it seems the duchess isn’t ready to give up on the chance of your return. She refused to go to any parties, or participate in any of the accepted social activities. She will ruin herself, instead choosing to get dirt under her fingernails and grow flowers.”
“She has a beautiful garden,” Wesley said wistfully. He loved watching her work. The way the sun kissed her skin, and how her coppery hair would escape its rudimentary updo and catch in the breeze. In theton, he’d never had a chance to see her like that. Wild and free. She’d always been perfect, practiced, and polite.
He realized he hardly knew the woman he was so willing to wreak havoc for. But he wanted to know everything about her. He longed to inhale her sweet, flowery scent. Feel that soft skin, even if it was under these feral paws. To hear her heartbeat quicken when he touched her.
And so many other things he’d only dared to dream about. Like untying her stays and taking her to his bed. If he were to make good on that promise at this moment, his bed was a mat of straw in the cold, dark earth.
Unacceptable.
But the duchess didn’t seem to mind getting dirty…
“Phillipa must attend the Ball, Her Majesty’s orders. There she’ll have a selection of the finest beasts to choose from. Ones that aren’t so busy feeling sorry for themselves and living in a hole in the ground, stealing magic from creatures a fraction of their size, and pining away for a woman that they’re afraid to reveal themselves to.” The countess nodded, satisfied with her declaration.
Wesley let loose a blood-curdling howl that stilled the forest.
