He’d let her think she won the battle, but he was in total control of the war.
Even if the little fae hadn’t given him power, he’d taken some of his back. Phillipa would know he was here. There was no way the fae wouldn’t tell her about their exchange.
But that wasn’t good enough. He needed to claim her.
And with his behavior so far, he wasn’t going to claim anything. He had to stop feeling sorry for himself and accept his situation.
He didn’t need magic.
He didn’t need his humanity.
He needed to embrace who he was at this moment and stop pining away for what he lost before it made him lose everything.
He headed downstairs, carefully taking a drink off a waiter’s tray as he scanned the room for Phillipa. A dance was in full session, and a group of ladies stood near the fireplace, eyeing him.
Master Bow waved to him. “How are things, Your Grace?”
“Phillipa?”
His face lit up. “Oh, please tell me you’ve revealed yourself to her and that we can announce the first match of the Ball! You look so handsome tonight. She couldn’t possibly turn you down.”
“Not yet,” Wesley said. “Have you seen her?”
“It seems that she’s stepped out for a moment. That’s why I thought you had found her,” Master Bow said. “The Ball has just begun. I can confirm that she has not yet committed to any of our monsters.”
“Yet,” Wesley added.
“What can I do to make your time here more enjoyable?”
“Dance,” he said.
“With Phillipa?”
Wesley nodded toward the cluster of ladies who were watching the exchange with great interest.
“Oh. Yes.” Master Bow led him over to the ladies. “I can make an introduction, but what would you like me to use as your title? Many of the ladies in attendance are familiar with the disappearance of the Duke of Chelmsford. If I introduce you as the Wolven King, that will raise more questions.”
Wesley was at a loss. “I’ll do it myself.”
Master Bow gasped. “That is not how it is done, Your Grace.”
Wesley approached a curvy blonde in a white dress with big blue eyes, and who did not seem to mind the breech of etiquette.
“You’re very handsome.” She curtsied. “My name is Elizabeth.”
“I’m Wesley. A duke.” He bowed in response. “Would you like to dance?”
“Oh, yes.”
He took her gloved hand and brought her to the dance floor. How strange it felt to hold a woman’s hand again. He wasn’t trying to make a connection, only to boost his confidence. Assure himself that he could do this. For this one dance, he would pretend this Elizabeth was his beloved.
The song began, and the steps came back to him like he was in the middle of a Season. Like he was human, and it was Phillipa across from him.
“You’re a fine dancer,” she cooed. “It makes me wonder what else you can do, wolven.”
“Tonight, we dance,” he said, his snout close to her ear. “The Ball has just begun.”
“You’ve very proper. That’s admirable. But you’ll have to move fast here, wolven. Is this your first Ball?” As she danced, her bosom bounced in time with the music.
“First and last.”
Her eyebrows raised. “A confident wolven. I must say, I like that.” The dance ended and she curtsied. “I still have some room on my dance card, and I’ve always got time for a big, strong beast like you. Or perhaps we could meet later in the pleasure garden.”
The garden. Master Bow had brought him there on his tour of the grounds, promising that the pivotal events of the Ball would most certainly take place there.
If Phillipa was outside, as Master Bow said, it would be an excellent place to find her.
Oh, how he’d dreamed of this moment even before Countess Stalbridge invited him to the Ball. Of course, until then, he’d always pictured himself as human, but he was becoming accustomed to this new version of himself. Starting to like it better. He’d take Phillipa in his arms, kissing her surprise away. He’d explain to her where he’d been. That he’d never actually left her, he’d been watching over her the whole time. Protecting her.
He could make it happen now.
His head was swimming again, maybe from the dance, maybe the fae had spelled him with dark magic, but all he cared about was Phillipa, and he headed toward the door. He didn’t remember which door led directly to the gardens, but it would be easy enough to find once he was out of doors.
“Wolven, come join us.” A minotaur put his hand on Wesley’s shoulder. “There’s a lively game of Macao happening. The stakes are quite high.”
Wesley hesitated.
The minotaur waggled his brows. “We can compare notes on the lovely ladies we’ve met so far. I haven’t seen you at one of these gatherings before, so we can give you a preview of what’s to come. The festivities are fun tonight, wolven, but tomorrow is when the action really happens.”
Wesley glanced toward the door. Phillipa could be anywhere, and there was no guarantee he could find her by excusing himself from the minotaur. If he was going to play by these new rules, embracing his wolven, he could use all the pointers he could get. The way the minotaur grinned at him, he had a feeling he might have a few tips that Master Bow had left out of his primer.
“Duke Wesley,” he offered his paw, hoping the minotaur was too involved in the card game to notice that he didn’t reveal all the pertinent information. He’d hoped that the standard etiquette of introductions didn’t apply in bête monde, and it made finding Phillipa even more imperative before scandal caught up with him.
“Baron Martin of Bristol.” The minotaur took it and offered a robust shake. “My associate, Earl Simon of Swindon, is already at the table. He’s toured Europe playing this game, and these beasts are brave to take him on.”
“Perhaps I shall pick up more than a few pointers.” Wesley surprised himself with the declaration. It felt human, unlike the one or two word retorts he’d allowed himself because he deemed himself uncivilized.
Perhaps he was ready to claim his wife again after all. His posture straightened as he entered the room, the lucky feeling having nothing to do with cards.
“Stick with us, Wesley, you’ll get everything you want out of the Ball.”
The salon was full of monsters, most of whom were seated around the table, bluffing or putting down cards. Others sat closer to the bookshelves, sipping spirits and chatting.
“No ladies?” Wesley asked.
“Not in here. Although there are many delectable choices this Ball. I hope to have a chance to play with them more thoroughly tomorrow night.”
“What will happen?” Wesley’s cock stirred in his breeches.
“As you know, some of the ladies are not happy to be summoned to the Ball and wish to rebel against Her Majesty at every opportunity. Which we can use to our advantage. Of course, I’m not sure of your intentions, wolven. Are you here for play, or are you here to make a match?”
“Match,” he said too quickly, earning a devilish grin from Martin. “Phillipa.”
“Oh, the Earl and I have met a Phillipa. She is quite enchanting.” Martin rubbed his palms together. “If I were a betting man, which I’m sure you realized that I am, I would wager that she was one of our fine ladies who is here to rebel against the Queen.”