“You know what tonight is,” Jeremy said.
“I do?”
“Stop playing games, Reed.” Jeremy gritted his teeth. “It’s the Finnerly’s ball. Look, I know you’ve been occupied with all the planning with the ascension ball.” He lowered his voice as they were out in the hallway, where any member could pass by and hear them. “And you do deserve some time to unwind. But you know how important tonight is to Eleanor and Grandmama.”
“This was their idea,” he stated.
“Look, Reed.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Grandmama may not look it, but she’s genuinely worried about the whole mage thing. Eleanor says … well she thinks your grandmother is afraid of losing you, like she did your father. This ball, the three ladies, they give her a much needed distraction after months of mourning. A successful debut will make her immensely happy.”
Reed went silent as guilt creeped in. Sometimes, he forgot that while he had lost his father in that accident, Miranda Townsend had lost her only son.
“You don’t have to dance with anyone, not even the three women.” Jeremy’s tone turned lighthearted. “In fact, I’m sure Grandmama would prefer it if you didn’t show any favoritism toward any of them.”
“Then why show up at all?”
“You’re the duke of Huntington, head of the Townsend family,” Jeremy pointed out. “Your presence alone will ensure none of the ton dare say anything bad about our dear guests. But if you show an interest in any of them, no man would dare come near her. They’ll think you’re either interested in wedding her, which means no one will dare offer for her because they can’t compete with the lure of a dukedom or that you’ve already sunk your claws into her and that would make them targets for every lecherous bastard.”
“So, they just need me for my title?” he asked wryly.
“Your reputation precedes you, I’m afraid,” Jeremy joked. “Besides, if you want to dance with any unattached young woman without sending tongues wagging, you’d have to partner with every respectable matron in the ballroom before even approaching anyone else.”
“You mean, every unattractive, gossip-mongering, harridan in the room.”
“Exactly.” Jeremy patted his shoulder in a good-natured manner. “And you’d never do that. So, what do you say? All you have to do is stand and make nice conversation.”
Reed had absolutely no objection to going to the Finnerly’s ball. When Eleanor first brought up the subject of Bridget coming for the season, he knew that at some point, his sister and grandmother would coerce, guilt, or bribe him into coming to a ball or two. The only reason why he was hiding out at White’s now was he had successfully avoided Elise for three whole days and he wasn’t about to break his streak.
Knowing that she was under the same roof as him but not being around her was torture, but he had to bear it. It was too risky. If he were ever alone with her again, he’d throw out what little morals he had and take her to bed. Though she might not understand it herself, Elise wanted him too. It was obvious from their last encounter. But what happened in the statuary only cemented the fact that they truly couldn’t be together. She was part witch—a fact that the clan would never approve of. Witches and warlocks were their natural enemy, and many of the older clan members would surely object as many still remembered the last few skirmishes they’d had with the magical beings.
But he supposed he couldn’t hide from her forever. Besides, a ball was a public place, so there wouldn’t be anything inappropriate happening there.
“I guess I have no choice,” he conceded. I’m doing it for Grandmama, he convinced himself. It would make the old woman happy.
“Splendid,” Jeremy said. “Good thing you’re already dressed in proper attire. We should go now or Grandmama will have the constables of the Bow Street Runners looking for us.”
They took his coach and made their way to the marquess and marchioness of Finnerly’s stately manor on Upper Brook Street. James and Eleanora Williamson were one of the most respected couples of the ton, one of the few alliance families that knew about Lycans, and had been best friends with his parents. In fact, they were his godparents, and his mother had named Eleanor after the Marchioness. The dowager duchess had, indeed, made an excellent decision in choosing this as the three ladies’ debut.
As soon as they alighted the coach, they headed straight to the entrance. The line of guests waiting to be announced wasn’t too long, and soon they were up next.
“The Earl of Winford,” the butler announced in a monotone drone. “His Grace, The Duke of Huntington!”
It seemed the very mention of his title was enough to bring the entire ballroom to a hush. But Reed didn’t pay them any attention. In fact, he didn’t even notice anyone else in the room, except for one person.
Elise was easily the most beautiful woman in the entire ballroom. Madam Marie must be some kind of magician when it came to dressmaking, because the gown she had made for Elise was stunning, and so was Elise. The fabric was the exact shade of blue as her eyes, and much to his surprise, had delicate silver threads embroidered on the skirt which resembled streaks of lightning. Her flaming red hair was done up in braids rather than the more fashionable curls, but it only made her look like a Greek goddess. It seemed, however, that he wasn’t the only one admiring her charms. Her current dance partner—Baron Wisely—was gazing so far down her décolletage that Reed thought his eyeballs would pop off.
“Are you all right, man?” Jeremy asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Then why are you growling?”
He realized that his wolf’s growls were so loud that his chest was vibrating. “Where’s Eleanor and—never mind, I see them.”
He made a beeline for the two women who he spotted standing
