“What?”
“He never told you? He’s adopted.”
“Adopted?”
“Oh yes. Thought he got his looks from his father, did you? Oh, no, no. Angelique was this little blonde slip of a thing. Quite the beauty. Also French. Biggest pansy eyes you ever saw, dab hand with the curling iron as well. She was my lady’s maid for a while there.”
“What?”
“Nasty piece of work, in the end. Espionage. I rather think she might have broken Genevieve’s heart. They were, you know, together for some time, back in the day.”
Rue did know that Quesnel’s mother preferred the company of ladies; he had admitted as much. And Rue was Lord Akeldama’s daughter, too. Dama made certain her education included all possible options. He himself preferred the company of gentlemen. Rue had, in the end, decided that she did as well – prefer the company of gentlemen, that is. Boyish French ones with pansy eyes and, as it turned out, contorted views on family and love.
“That could explain a lot about him.”
“Yes,” said Lady Maccon, “I thought you should know. Could be hazardous should you relax your stance on not taking him seriously. From my own experience, I can assure you, it was very dangerous to care for Angelique. Who knows if that kind of thing can be inherited? You see, infant, he’s not a great match in terms of the particulars of class and rank, but I also worry about other aspects.”
Rue grinned. “Very thoughtful, Mother. I appreciate the information. And now if we are being perfectly honest with one another, may I ask what’s wrong with Paw? Sorry, Paw, but I’m not perpetually blind to your faults.”
Lady Maccon laughed. “Too many things to list, I should say.”
Lord Maccon gave his wife a dour look. “Please don’t try.”
“It’s Alpha’s curse, isn’t it?”
Mother’s wide mouth twisted in a sad sort of grimace. “Yes, dear, it is.”
Rue widened her eyes so as not to tear up. “Has he hurt anyone?”
“Not yet. Not as far as we know.”
Paw stared down at his free hand as if it held the secrets of the world, thoroughly ashamed of himself.
“Paw, don’t look so. It’s not like you could help it. Doesn’t it happen to every Alpha?”
Mother examined the ceiling. “He thinks he’s superior to the others. Stronger. Better. Yes, Conall, I know, you always have been before. Except maybe the dewan. But you aren’t perfect. Trust me. At least you’re nowhere near as bad as Lord Woolsey got.”
Paw looked horrified. In classic fashion, Rue’s mother’s attempt at consolation went wide of the mark.
“Lord Woolsey?” Rue prodded.
Lady Maccon was in a forthcoming mood. “Previous Alpha to your father, came over all violent and rotten to the core. Removing him proved to be quite the mess. Killed your grandfather, not to put too fine a point on it.”
Rue was so horrified that even her notoriously obtuse mother noticed.
“Oh, don’t worry, infant. All reports seem to suggest Lord Woolsey wasn’t a very nice man even before he caught the Alpha’s curse. Frankly, neither was your grandfather. You’ll have to ask Professor Lyall if you want the details. Lord Woolsey was before my time. Although, I do know that he turned bad enough to almost cause a civil uprising. An insane Alpha is no small thing and can have wide-ranging political implications. Which I do keep reminding your father but he insists—”
“Enough, woman. Enough.” Paw raised his free hand to the heavens as though petitioning for interference.
“He doesn’t want you involved.”
Rue nodded, understanding her father’s feelings likely more than her mother did. Paw was embarrassed. He wanted to be her strong, solid comfort. She was his daughter and she wasn’t allowed to see him weak.
She couldn’t stop herself from asking in a small voice, “Are you going to die, Paw?”
“Och, sweetheart, no. Well, not immediately.” Paw leaned forward across the tea table to put his hand over hers, where they were clasped together, white-knuckled in her lap. Her fingers ached, which meant she must have been clutching them together for a while, unnoticed.
Lady Maccon said, “Is that what you thought? Oh dear. I knew I should have told you sooner.”
“Don’t they all die, though?” Rue clarified, barely above a whisper. “Aren’t they all killed, the cursed Alphas?”
“Well, yes, under ordinary circumstances. Sometimes by their Betas. Sometimes by a new Alpha challenging for the safety of all. Werewolves who go mad are put down by their own kind, for everyone’s sake,” Lady Maccon explained helpfully.
“Alexia!” snapped her husband at Rue’s miserable expression. “Do shut up!”
He shifted over to Rue, gathering her into a one-armed hug. Still holding his wife’s hand, he could touch Rue without any fear, for his daughter couldn’t steal wolf while her mother kept him mortal.
Lady Maccon realised she was making things worse. “Don’t worry, infant, we have a plan.”
“Taking Paw to Egypt?”
“How on earth did you know?”
Rue looked at her in exasperation. When will Mother stop seeing me as a child? “I had Percy look into the matter. It’s the most efficient and elegant solution. Which is your style. How do you plan to get Paw out of London alive?”
“Well, I had thought—”
“He never told you? He’s adopted.”
“Adopted?”
“Oh yes. Thought he got his looks from his father, did you? Oh, no, no. Angelique was this little blonde slip of a thing. Quite the beauty. Also French. Biggest pansy eyes you ever saw, dab hand with the curling iron as well. She was my lady’s maid for a while there.”
“What?”
“Nasty piece of work, in the end. Espionage. I rather think she might have broken Genevieve’s heart. They were, you know, together for some time, back in the day.”
Rue did know that Quesnel’s mother preferred the company of ladies; he had admitted as much. And Rue was Lord Akeldama’s daughter, too. Dama made certain her education included all possible options. He himself preferred the company of gentlemen. Rue had, in the end, decided that she did as well – prefer the company of gentlemen, that is. Boyish French ones with pansy eyes and, as it turned out, contorted views on family and love.
“That could explain a lot about him.”
“Yes,” said Lady Maccon, “I thought you should know. Could be hazardous should you relax your stance on not taking him seriously. From my own experience, I can assure you, it was very dangerous to care for Angelique. Who knows if that kind of thing can be inherited? You see, infant, he’s not a great match in terms of the particulars of class and rank, but I also worry about other aspects.”
Rue grinned. “Very thoughtful, Mother. I appreciate the information. And now if we are being perfectly honest with one another, may I ask what’s wrong with Paw? Sorry, Paw, but I’m not perpetually blind to your faults.”
Lady Maccon laughed. “Too many things to list, I should say.”
Lord Maccon gave his wife a dour look. “Please don’t try.”
“It’s Alpha’s curse, isn’t it?”
Mother’s wide mouth twisted in a sad sort of grimace. “Yes, dear, it is.”
Rue widened her eyes so as not to tear up. “Has he hurt anyone?”
“Not yet. Not as far as we know.”
Paw stared down at his free hand as if it held the secrets of the world, thoroughly ashamed of himself.
“Paw, don’t look so. It’s not like you could help it. Doesn’t it happen to every Alpha?”
Mother examined the ceiling. “He thinks he’s superior to the others. Stronger. Better. Yes, Conall, I know, you always have been before. Except maybe the dewan. But you aren’t perfect. Trust me. At least you’re nowhere near as bad as Lord Woolsey got.”
Paw looked horrified. In classic fashion, Rue’s mother’s attempt at consolation went wide of the mark.
“Lord Woolsey?” Rue prodded.
Lady Maccon was in a forthcoming mood. “Previous Alpha to your father, came over all violent and rotten to the core. Removing him proved to be quite the mess. Killed your grandfather, not to put too fine a point on it.”
Rue was so horrified that even her notoriously obtuse mother noticed.
“Oh, don’t worry, infant. All reports seem to suggest Lord Woolsey wasn’t a very nice man even before he caught the Alpha’s curse. Frankly, neither was your grandfather. You’ll have to ask Professor Lyall if you want the details. Lord Woolsey was before my time. Although, I do know that he turned bad enough to almost cause a civil uprising. An insane Alpha is no small thing and can have wide-ranging political implications. Which I do keep reminding your father but he insists—”
“Enough, woman. Enough.” Paw raised his free hand to the heavens as though petitioning for interference.
“He doesn’t want you involved.”
Rue nodded, understanding her father’s feelings likely more than her mother did. Paw was embarrassed. He wanted to be her strong, solid comfort. She was his daughter and she wasn’t allowed to see him weak.
She couldn’t stop herself from asking in a small voice, “Are you going to die, Paw?”
“Och, sweetheart, no. Well, not immediately.” Paw leaned forward across the tea table to put his hand over hers, where they were clasped together, white-knuckled in her lap. Her fingers ached, which meant she must have been clutching them together for a while, unnoticed.
Lady Maccon said, “Is that what you thought? Oh dear. I knew I should have told you sooner.”
“Don’t they all die, though?” Rue clarified, barely above a whisper. “Aren’t they all killed, the cursed Alphas?”
“Well, yes, under ordinary circumstances. Sometimes by their Betas. Sometimes by a new Alpha challenging for the safety of all. Werewolves who go mad are put down by their own kind, for everyone’s sake,” Lady Maccon explained helpfully.
“Alexia!” snapped her husband at Rue’s miserable expression. “Do shut up!”
He shifted over to Rue, gathering her into a one-armed hug. Still holding his wife’s hand, he could touch Rue without any fear, for his daughter couldn’t steal wolf while her mother kept him mortal.
Lady Maccon realised she was making things worse. “Don’t worry, infant, we have a plan.”
“Taking Paw to Egypt?”
“How on earth did you know?”
Rue looked at her in exasperation. When will Mother stop seeing me as a child? “I had Percy look into the matter. It’s the most efficient and elegant solution. Which is your style. How do you plan to get Paw out of London alive?”
“Well, I had thought—”
