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He would make this right.
Once the water grew cold and his paws became pruny, he rose from the tub. After rubbing the towels over his fur, he put on the banyan. Clothing felt strange and constricting, but Master Bow had made it clear without saying the words that his nudity would not be accepted. He wondered what the other monsters would be wearing, and how Master Bow would accommodate their various appendages. He chuckled to himself thinking about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to ring the bell.
There was a part of him that would miss his life in the den. Watching over Phillipa.
No, he wouldn’t. The den was cold, damp, and miserable. What he’d really miss was the possibility of his wife still being hopelessly in love with him. If Master Bow came in here and dressed him for battle—rather, the Ball—he’d be competing for her attention all over again.
There was a soft knock on the door before it opened, and Master Bow’s purple hued head poked inside. Wesley wasn’t sure if they steam had gotten to him, but he’d swear his hair color was different from when he’d met him just an hour or so before.
“Don’t you look handsome,” Master Bow said as he opened the door wider. He’d changed into a new suit that matched his latest wig. “I have prepared some very elegant options for you, if you’re ready to see them.”
Wesley nodded.
Manservants brought in jackets, breeches, and bolts of fabric. Wesley resisted the urge to run. He’d never loved this part of society life, he’d merely tolerated it so he could find a wife and move on.
Master Bow opened a case, revealing a grooming kit. “You look so much more refined after your bath. I have a feeling it felt good to get all that dirt off you, too. I’m going to give you a quick tutorial about how to get yourself ready for each night at the Ball. Once the ladies arrive, they have a way of keeping me busy, but I don’t want you to feel forgotten. If you need me at any time for anything, all you have to do is tell one of the servants you’d like to speak to Master Bow. I’ll be here for you.”
Emotion pricked his eyes. He’d felt so unseen since his metamorphosis, and Master Bow was treating him like he was normal. Human.
“Thank you,” he finally managed.
“Oh, no, thank you.” Master Bow rubbed pomade between his palms. “The Monsters Ball brings me so much joy. At the end of the Ball when you’re all paired up is my reward. Now, tell me about Miss Willoughby.”
“Duchess,” Wesley corrected.
“Please forgive me. I only know her by her name on the guest list, and that you care about her very much. What is your favorite thing about the duchess?”
Truth be told, he barely knew her. He’d met her at a Ball very much like this one. He’d broken the rules and asked her to dance more than once. His father warned him against filling her dance card the very first night he’d met her. But that red hair, those green eyes. The way she laughed as she danced like she felt the rhythm deep down to her soul, even though the simple, joyous act was considered far too forward, was absolutely enchanting.
“She loves to dance,” Wesley said. He’d called on her, learned of the other Balls she’d planned to attend, and got himself on those invite lists. It wasn’t just her beauty that had drawn him in. It was her lust for life, her thirst for knowledge, and her taste for something bigger than society life. How he’d planned to travel with her. To show her Europe and beyond. Again, his family cautioned him against having such grand dreams, knowing that the monstrous virus that had turned him wolven could appear at any time.
He’d planned to tell her, but even the possibility of the transformation had brought him shame. And he’d operated with the foolish bravado that it would actually happen to him.
“Do you like to dance?” Master Bow asked, swaying side to side as he rubbed the pomade into the fur on Wesley’s head. He’d jumped on contact, it had been so long since anyone had touched him.
The last to do it? Phillipa.
His body contracted, but it felt so good.
“No,” he rumbled. “Not great at it.”
“Good thing you’re so handsome. And that you’re here early. I have time to refresh your memory.” Master Bow picked up a comb and parted Wesley’s fur above his right eye, combing it toward the right. “We can also refresh your dinner manners. Passing all those plates can be different with paws instead of hands. But let’s concentrate on the task at hand. Do you think you’ll be able to recreate this style on the nights of the Ball?”
Wesley nodded.
Master Bow clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now let’s get you dressed. I have some jackets that might fit you, but my team will tailor them to make them custom. I’ve heard that you served in the military, and many of our current and former soldiers wear their red coats to the Ball. Are you open to that?”
That was what he’d worn when he’d met Phillipa. He’d worn it to every dance, and even to their wedding. It was on the tip of his tongue to say no. So many nights he wished he could wear the smart suit jackets of his peers.
But the jacket was familiar, normal when nothing was anymore.
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. Let’s try this one on, and we’ll make adjustments as needed.” Master Bow stepped back as his assistants pulled an undershirt over Wesley’s head, tied the black cravat around his neck, and then eased the jacket onto his shoulders.
They let Wesley work the buttons, which took several tries.
“They’re not made for paws, but you’ll get used to it, I promise.” Master Bow gave him a wink. “The breeches will take some getting used to as well, but these will look spectacular on you.”
