“Don’tbe sorry,” she assured him. “Oh please, don’t be sorry. It is such apleasant evening, I am happy to sit with you like this.” The air wascool, but with her coat she did not feel the damp.
Thewolf settled, lying down and resting his head upon his paws. Hesighed a breath that sounded like a whine.
Elizabethwaited.
“Bloodyhell!” Francis cried out when he came out through the trees. “I begyour pardon, Miss Weston, you startled me.”
Thewolf had not startled him; she had.
Sheblinked awake—she had nodded off. The wolf—he was truly asleep, curledup, tail to nose. She flattered herself that she had given him somecomfort, to allow him to rest.
Vincentcame up behind Francis. Both stood, wearing coats and looking harried.The masks were gone.
“Mr.Wilde . . . and Mr. Wilde,” she said, thinking that she ought to stand,but she did not want to disturb the wolf’s rest. Something washappening—she did not look away for fear of missing it. The creature’sfur seemed to thin; his limbs seemed to lengthen, claws fattening intofingers. The changes happened with the gentleness of mist fading atdawn.
“MissWeston,” Vincent said. He seemed tired; his brother stood wary. “Whatin God’s name are you doing here?”
Shehugged herself. “I do not know. A voice drew me.”
“Edward—”Vincentsaid wonderingly, and she nodded. “But how?”
“Again,I do not know.”
Francislaughed, and the sound was a relief. The merry version of him was morepleasant. “Do not take this as an insult, my dear lady—but what areyou?”
“Imight ask the same of you.”
Thewolf was half man now, a naked face with pointed ears, sharp teethbehind curled human lips. The fur continued to thin.
Vincentsaid softly, “He spent too long in a crowded ballroom.
We. . . we are not so used to polite company.”
“Hesaid you had decided to come in from the woods.”
“Yes,”the taller brother said. “Francis and I have more . . . fortitude.For Edward, it is difficult. He lasted in company longer than I thoughthe would, and I believe we have you to thank for it.”
“Oh?”
“Yougive him a reason to be civilized.”
Hedoes the same for me, she thought.
EdwardWilde lay before them now, nude, back bowed in the curled shape hiswolf had lain down in. He seemed tense, muscles taut, as if dreamingsome difficult dream.
“Hewill sleep for some time,” Vincent said.
“Heis exhausted,” she said.
“Yes,”he said. “I’m astonished that you understand. You are not at all . . .frightened?”
Shesmiled. “Assemblies frighten me. Proposals frighten me. This .. . is merely wondrous.”
Herlimbs had grown stiff and she took some time rising from the ground.Francis rushed forward to assist but was only in time to touch herelbow and bow an apology. She thanked him anyway. Moving then toEdward, she removed her coat and spread it over him. He made a sound, asoft murmur that she couldn’t make out, and nestled more deeply intohis grassy bed and sighed in comfort.
“Ithink I should take my leave, sirs. Do have a pleasant evening.”
“MissWeston, we should escort you home—”
“No,it isn’t far, I’ll be fine, truly. Stay with Edward.”
Theybowed, and she curtseyed, which seemed ridiculous here under the moonby the shadow of the forest, but it also seemed proper.
Takingher lantern, she hurried back to the house, shivering in hernightdress, to warm herself in her bed. Her maid never asked how herslippers had become so muddy and grass stained.
Severaldays later she received a parcel wrapped in paper and tied with twine.She took it to her room to unwrap, because she was sure what thepackage contained: her coat, with a carefully written slip of paperthat said, My thanks.
Thisgave her such a warm feeling she was almost overwhelmed, and she heldthe note to her breast for a long time.
Elizabethgladly attended the next assembly in town, not for any expectationthat the brothers Wilde would be present, but for the hope that theywould. Hope, she discovered, was a powerful inducement to feats ofbravery.
Sherefused two dances, with Amy defending her by spreading about that shehad a weak ankle, and was sitting in her usual wallflower role in achair, happy to watch people enter and exit by the foyer.
Andthere hewas. The three brothers entered, much as they had at the Woodfair ball.Edward was in the middle, and his gaze fell on her directly, as a houndon the scent. Elizabeth stood in a bit of a panic. Vincentnodded to her and took a smirking Francis off to another part of theroom.
Edwardcame to stand before her. He bowed; she curtseyed. The emotions pouringfrom him were tangled, but the strongest thread she felt was happiness.
Heasked if she would like to sit; she did, clutching her hands togetherin her lap. He sat in the chair beside her. He was like the wolf, earspricked forward, afraid to move lest he startle her.
“MayI speak freely with you, Miss Weston?” he asked finally.
“Ofcourse.”They sat a little apart from one another. The distance seemeda mile.
“Icould smell you, when I woke. Your coat—it smelled of you.” He blushed,trying to find the words. “I have never slept so well. I have neverslept so soundly and comfortably, after returning from my other self. Ifear I must ask you to run after me every full moon, to drape me withyour coat.”
“Iwould do it,” she said simply.
Hechuckled. “You should stay inside where it is safe. But perhaps I canlearn to carry your handkerchief with me.”
“Iwould give you a handkerchief right now, if I had one.”
“Elizabeth.There is so much you don’t know about us.”
Shesmiled. “You and the other Misters Wilde are not brothers—well, youare in spirit, if not by blood. It is most strange.”
“Indeed.And yet no one but you questions it.”
“Mostpeople are eager to acceptwhat they are told.”
“Butnot you.”
“Thisis my secret, Mr. Wilde: I can feel lies. And almost every word spokenin parlors like this is a lie. I wonder that you are so eager to leaveyour woods.”
“AsI said, there are some attractions here.”
“Ido like the music,” shesaid.
“MissWeston—will you trust me?” The meaning behind the words was more thanwhat he
