Bridget looked relieved. “I’m glad I won’t be alone going to my first season.” A frown crossed her face. “I had hoped my True Mate would be someone back in Scotland, but my da’s been waiting for two years, and I’ve met every eligible Lycan and human in the county and still nothing.”
That was the second time someone mentioned about knowing their True Mate, and although Elise was dying to ask what that was all about, she refrained.
But apparently, Julianna didn’t have such restraints. “Hold on a minute!” Julianna held her hands up. “Can you explain to me about this knowing your True Mates thing?”
Bridget opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when the butler entered and announced, “Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Huntington.”
The tension in the room suddenly thickened and Eleanor quickly turned toward the entrance. Though she hadn’t instructed them to do the same, they all seemed to naturally follow her and faced the woman standing at the threshold.
As the dowager duchess strode in, Elise knew why she commanded such respect. Despite her age, the power emanating from her was difficult to ignore. Elise felt her own wolf—and the others around her—cower and shrink back. It almost reminded her of Reed’s presence which made sense. She was technically Lupa of the clan and Reed’s grandmother, after all.
“Your Grace,” Eleanor began. “Allow me to introduce our guests to you.”
The duchess said nothing but raised a brow. She was the picture of matronly restraint and calm in her dark brown traveling outfit, but the power brewing in her was there, simmering at the surface.
“Mr. Cross Jonasson, envoy of the Alpha of New York, and his cousins, Miss Elise Henney, and Miss Julianna Anderson who is daughter to their Alpha. Mr. Jonasson, this is my grandmother, Miranda Townsend, the Dowager Duchess of Huntington.”
“How do you do, Your Grace?” Cross gave a smooth bow. “It is an honor to be here, and we thank you for welcoming us into your territory.” Elise and Julianna followed with deep curtseys.
“And of course, you know my cousin, Bridget MacDonald, daughter of Lord Alec MacDonald, Earl of Caelkirk and the Alpha.”
“Thank you for welcoming me into your territory, Your Grace.” Bridget did the same deep curtsey.
The silence as Miranda Townsend’s hawk-like eyes roamed over them was deafening. She addressed Bridget first. “You have excellent coloring, very fashionable. But then again, blonde and blue-eyed girls always are.”
Bridget’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.
The duchess then turned to Elise. “I almost thought you were Bridget, with those brazen tresses.” She wrinkled her nose. “No pink for you, it would look dreadful with your complexion and hair. You’re pretty enough to turn heads, though.”
Elise was so shocked at the older woman’s rudeness she didn’t know what to say.
Finally, she turned to Julianna, and her face twisted in horror. “Oh my.” The duchess’s nose wrinkled. “You’ll need the most work. Far too tall. You have a good face, but those eyes destroy the symmetry. And that skin.” She tutted. “Did your mother let you run around the fields?”
Julianna looked dumbstruck. “E-excuse me?”
“You’re far too tanned,” the dowager duchess remarked. “From now on, you will not be permitted out in the sun.”
“I’m not tanned,” Julianna exclaimed. “I’m Italian.”
From the look on the duchess’s face, one would have thought she said “serial killer.”
“Italian?” came a voice from behind the duchess. The dowager’s presence was so arresting that no one had noticed the man who crept in behind her.
The man who stepped out from the duchess’s shadow was older with white hair and a beard, and he wore a rich red velvet coat and trousers. “You are Italian?”
The dowager’s face remained impassive. “I almost forgot. I have a guest as well. This is Signore Franceso Rossi, an envoy sent by Prince Giovanni, the Alpha of Florence. He’s my guest.”
“I am not just a guest,” Signore Rossi said with a deep, flamboyant bow to the ladies. “I am also a gift.”
“A gift?” Eleanor asked.
“Prince Giovanni is not just my Alpha, but my patron as well,” Rossi explained. “I am an artist. He has sent me here to paint the portrait of your family, as a gift and to strengthen relations with your clan.”
“I’ve not decided if I shall accept the prince’s generous offer.” From the tone of disdain from the duchess’s voice, it was obvious what she thought of the offer. “But I have allowed Signore Rossi to accompany me here and perhaps he may be inspired to paint the landscape … or something else.”
“It is very different, England,” Rossi remarked. “But, bella.” He turned back to Julianna. “You said you are Italian?” He spoke a few words of Italian.
Julianna nodded. “On my mother’s side.” She replied with a few words and from the way her eyes darted at the duchess, Elise could only guess what she was saying.
“English, please,” the duchess demanded. “Signore Rossi, if you are to stay with us, then you must speak in English, at least in our presence.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” He bowed to the duchess. “My deepest apologies. It has been many weeks since I have spoken my native language and to speak with such a beauty as Miss Anderson”—he smiled brightly at Julianna—“is a rare treat for me in this land.”
“You’re forgiven, Signore.” The duchess turned to Cross. “Do the ladies have a dowry?”
“A substantial one, Your Grace,” Cross assured her.
“Grandmama!” Eleanor exclaimed, clearly embarrassed at her grandmother’s behavior. “Can we not speak of such things later?”
“Of course,” the duchess said. “We have far too much work ahead of us.” Her eyes trained on the three women again. “And we don’t have much time if we are to launch these women into society. I insist we begin immediately. Madame Marie is already in the parlor, where she can take
