Wesley huffed, missing the camaraderie with his old friend. He would make sure the countess would never describe him as interesting. She’d describe him as a beast.
“I can assure you he’s not holing up in an underground den.”
“Waiting,” he snarled.
“You can speak in complete sentences, Your Majesty. Your ferocious act is not fooling anyone, especially me. There’s only so long you can hold everyone else responsible for your fate. And more than that, keep your beloved wondering what happened to you.”
“Don’t you dare talk about Phillipa,” he snarled.
“She’s the reason you’re here, isn’t she? Watching over her, because you can’t tear yourself away from her. You begged your family not to tell her what happened to you. But you have yet to reveal yourself in this form. If you intend to keep her, you must claim her. Otherwise, she will ruin herself while she awaits word of your fate.”
“Won’t let that happen.” He bit out each word.
“Watching over her and terrorizing her otherworldly friends, demanding they fix your affliction, will not save her. Only you can do that.” The countess nodded as Wesley’s mouth dropped.
“Not like this.”
“Yes, exactly like that.” Another satisfied nod at Wesley’s astonishment. “I’m not sure if your friend Lord Roth has mentioned the Monsters Ball to you. He attended our last gathering. I happen to be its hostess. It is my greatest joy in life to help find misunderstood creatures such as yourself the love of their lives.”
Wesley didn’t understand. “Already did.”
“The reason I’m in Southampton is to deliver a demand, signed by Queen Charlotte herself, that Miss Phillipa Willoughby attend the next Monsters Ball.”
“What? No.” Wesley seethed, and it took every shred of humanity buried deep beneath his fur not to attack her. “Phillipa is my wife.”
“She’s a lady without a husband. The Duke of Chelmsford was reported missing on his wedding night, and according to The High Tea, he disappeared before he had a chance to consummate the marriage.”
A growl confirmed the gossip rag’s assertion.
“Miss Willoughby’s mother tried valiantly to have her participate in this Season, even attempted to have the marriage annulled many times, but it seems the duchess isn’t ready to give up on the chance of your return. She refused to go to any parties, or participate in any of the accepted social activities. She will ruin herself, instead choosing to get dirt under her fingernails and grow flowers.”
“She has a beautiful garden,” Wesley said wistfully. He loved watching her work. The way the sun kissed her skin, and how her coppery hair would escape its rudimentary updo and catch in the breeze. In the ton, he’d never had a chance to see her like that. Wild and free. She’d always been perfect, practiced, and polite.
He realized he hardly knew the woman he was so willing to wreak havoc for. But he wanted to know everything about her. He longed to inhale her sweet, flowery scent. Feel that soft skin, even if it was under these feral paws. To hear her heartbeat quicken when he touched her.
And so many other things he’d only dared to dream about. Like untying her stays and taking her to his bed. If he were to make good on that promise at this moment, his bed was a mat of straw in the cold, dark earth.
Unacceptable.
But the duchess didn’t seem to mind getting dirty…
“Phillipa must attend the Ball, Her Majesty’s orders. There she’ll have a selection of the finest beasts to choose from. Ones that aren’t so busy feeling sorry for themselves and living in a hole in the ground, stealing magic from creatures a fraction of their size, and pining away for a woman that they’re afraid to reveal themselves to.” The countess nodded, satisfied with her declaration.
Wesley let loose a blood-curdling howl that stilled the forest.
“She’s mine.”
“I didn’t come here to dispute that. In fact, the purpose of this stop on my way back to Broadstone Hall in Maidenbury is to invite you to attend the Ball and win your wife back.”
It was a noble invitation, and Wesley, no matter what form he was in, couldn’t argue with that. He appreciated that she thought to invite him. But it wasn’t that easy.
“She won’t accept me…like this.”
The countess dared to step forward. “How can you say that with any certainty? You have not presented yourself to her in this form.”
“Not ready.”
“The Ball is in two weeks, and I wholeheartedly agree that you are not ready. That brings me to the second purpose of my visit. If you decide to come to the Ball, you have the opportunity to arrive early and receive lessons on how to woo your mate in your monster form. You will work directly with my Master of Ceremonies, Master Bow, and you can tell him how human or how beastly you want to appear. He will teach you to dance, dine, and dote on your lady. You will be groomed, dressed, and ready for the Ball.”
Wesley wanted to protest. Insist that it wouldn’t work. That he was too beastly, too monstrous even for those experienced with creatures such as himself.
He couldn’t make the words come out. Only a rumble.
“What if—” he finally managed “—she doesn’t want me like this? If her family refuses to accept me?”
“It is always a possibility, regrettably. We do not guarantee matches, but we do everything in our power to help each attendee find their mate. She chose you once, and I believe that you can convince her to choose you again. What if you give her the chance to love you just the way you are? To show her that the man she fell in love with is still inside that wolven body?”
“Mine,” Wesley growled.
“Here are your choices, Your Majesty.” The countess put her finger under the wolf’s bottom jaw, tipping his face up to meet her eyes. “You can stay here and watch her live her life, while you terrorize the woodlands and wonder what will happen when all the other monsters meet your bride at the Ball. Or you can claim her.”
“Claim her.”
The countess nodded, satisfied. “Would you be able accept your fate if you had the lady by your side?”
“Don’t know.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I have the resources to help you win her heart all over again.”
“Mine.”
With a click of her tongue, the countess readied the horses to continue their journey. “Then I suggest you get into my carriage. We have a lot of work to do and no time to waste.”
Chapter Three
Wesley
“My, aren’t you big, strong, handsome, ferocious, and absolutely filthy.” A man in a much more fashionable suit than Wesley would have ever worn when he was human considered him, tapping his finger against his chin. “I’m Master Bow, and it will be my honor to get you ready for the Ball. We have a lot of work to do in a short amount of time, don’t we? Good thing I’ve never shied away from a challenge, because you, sir, look like you’re ready to give me one.”
“Phillipa,” Wesley rumbled. The countess had told him what he could expect at the Monsters Ball on the way back to her home. How the finest ladies of the ton who hadn’t met their match at the traditional marriage mart would be in attendance. He’d listened as much as he could. All he could think about was what it would be like to hold his beloved in his arms one more time.