Major Channing clasped it elegantly in both of his, bowing with evident interest, even daring to brush his lips across her wrist. “You are a picture, Miss Loontwill. A picture.”
Felicity blushed and took back her hand more slowly than was proper. “I should never have thought you a werewolf, Major.”
“Ah, Miss Loontwill, it was eternal life as a gallant soldier that called to me.”
Felicity’s eyelids fluttered. “Oh, a soldiering man through and through, are you, sir? How romantic.”
“To the bone, Miss Loontwill.”
Alexia felt she was about to be sick, and it had nothing to do with her pregnancy. “Really, Felicity, it is the middle of the night. Don’t you have one of your meetings tomorrow?”
“Oh, yes, Alexia, but I should never wish to be rude in fine company.”
Major Channing practically clicked his heels. “Miss Loontwill, I cannot deny you your beauty rest, however unnecessary I might feel it. Such loveliness as yours is already so near to perfection it can require no further assistance in that regard.”
Alexia tilted her head, trying to determine if there was an insult buried in all that flowery talk.
Felicity tittered again. “Oh, really, Major Channing, we hardly know one another.”
“Your meeting, Felicity. Rest.” Alexia tapped her parasol pointedly.
“Oh, la, yes, I suppose I should.”
Lady Maccon was tired and out of temper. She decided she had a right, under such circumstances, to be difficult. “My sister is an active member of the National Society for Women’s Suffrage,” she explained sweetly to Major Channing.
The Gamma was taken aback by this information. No doubt in all his long years he had never encountered a woman of Felicity’s ilk—and her ilk was in very little doubt after even a few seconds of acquaintance—who would be involved in such a thing as politics.
“Really, Miss Loontwill? You must tell me more about this little club of yours. I can hardly believe a woman of your elegance need dabble in such trifles. Find yourself a nice gentleman to marry and he can do such fiddling things as voting for you.”
Rather suddenly, Alexia felt like she might want to join the movement herself. Imagine such a man as Major Channing thinking he had any inkling of what a woman might want. So condescending.
Felicity’s eyelashes fluttered as though doing battle with a very fierce wind. “No one has asked me yet.”
Lady Maccon marshaled her displeasure. “Felicity, bed, now. I don’t care one jot for your finer feelings, but I need my rest. Channing, help me up the stairs and we shall have our little confidence.”
Felicity reluctantly undertook to do her sister’s bidding.
Major Channing, even more reluctantly, took Alexia’s arm. “So, my lady, I wanted to—”
“No, Major, wait until she is well away,” cautioned Lady Maccon.
They waited, making their way slowly up to the next floor.
Alexia finally deemed it safe, but still she spoke in a very low voice. “Yes?”
“I wanted to say, about that business with our Beta. Randolph is different from the rest of us wolves, you do realize? Your father was the love of his life, and we immortals don’t say such a thing lightly. Oh, there were others before Sandy—mostly women, I’ll have you know.” Channing seemed to be one of the few immortals Alexia had met who was concerned with such things. “But Sandy was the last. I worry. It was a quarter of a century ago.”
Lady Maccon frowned. “I have other pressing concerns at the moment, Major, but I will give the matter my due attention as soon as possible.”
Channing panicked. “Oh, now, I’m not asking you to matchmake, my lady. I’m simply pleading for leniency. I could not confide such fears to Lord Maccon, and you are also our Alpha.”
Alexia pinched at the bridge of her nose. “Could we talk about this tomorrow evening, perhaps? I really am quite done in.”
“No, my lady. Have you forgotten? Tomorrow is full moon.”
“Oh, blast it, it is. What a mess. Later, then. I promise not to take any rash action with regards to the good professor without due consideration as to the consequences.”
Channing clearly knew when to retreat from a battle. “Thank you very much, my lady. As to your sister, she is quite a peach, is she not? You have been hiding her from me.”
Lady Maccon would not be goaded. “Really, Channing, she is practically”—she paused to do some calculations—“one-twentieth your age. Or worse. Don’t you want some maturity in your life?”
“Good God, no!”
“Well, how about some human decency?”
“Now you’re just being insulting.”
Alexia huffed in amusement.
Channing raised blond eyebrows at her, handsome devil that he was. “Ah, but this is what I enjoy so much about immortality. The decades may pass for me, but the ladies, well, they will keep coming along all young and beautiful, now, won’t they?”
“Channing, someone should lock you away.”
“Now, Lady Maccon, that transpires tomorrow night, remember?”
Alexia did not bother to warn him off her sister. Such a man as Channing would only see that as a challenge. Best to pretend not to care. Felicity was on her own with this one. Lady Maccon was exhausted.
So exhausted, in fact, that she didn’t awaken when her husband later crawled in next to her in their bed. Her big, strong husband who had spent the night holding on to a boy afraid of change. Who had coached that boy through a pain Conall could no longer remember. Who had forced Biffy to realize he must give up his love or he would lose all of his remaining choices. Her big, strong husband who curled up close against her back and cried, not because of what Biffy suffered but because he, Conall Maccon, had caused that suffering.