Lord Maccon was nonplussed.
Professor Lyall, on the other hand, was pained. “I do what I can.”
Lord Akeldama looked at him, pity in his eyes. “You are a brave man.”
Lady Maccon interjected at this juncture. “And you wouldn’t mind Conall and myself occasionally in residence?”
“If you see to the cravat situation, I suppose I could surrender yet another closet to the cause.”
Alexia swallowed down a broad grin and tried to be as serious as humanly possible. “You are a noble man.”
Lord Akeldama tilted his head in gracious acceptance of the accolade. “Whoever thought I would have a werewolf living in my closet?”
“Hobgoblins under the bed?” suggested Lady Maccon, allowing her grin to emerge.
“La, butterball, I should be so lucky.” A gleam entered the vampire’s eyes, and he brushed his blond hair flirtatiously off his neck. “I suppose your pack must spend a good deal of time underdressed?”
The earl rolled his eyes, but Professor Lyall was not above a little bribery. “Or not dressed at all.”
Lord Akeldama nodded in pleasure. “Oh, my darling boys are going to love this new arrangement. They often take a keen interest in remarking upon the activities of our neighbors.”
“Oh, dear,” muttered Lord Maccon under his breath.
Biffy remained unmentioned, although everyone was thinking about him. Alexia, being Alexia, decided she would bring the taboo subject out into the open. “Biffy is going to be pleased.”
Silence met that statement.
Lord Akeldama assumed a forced lightness of tone. “How is the newest member of the Woolsey Pack?”
In truth, Biffy was not adjusting as well as anyone would like. He still fought the change each month and refused to try shifting of his own volition. He obeyed Lord Maccon implicitly, but there was no joy in it. The result was that he was having trouble learning any modicum of control and had to be locked away more nights than not because of this weakness.
However, not being inclined to confide in a vampire, Lord Maccon only said gruffly, “The pup is well enough.”
Lady Maccon frowned. Had she and Lord Akeldama been alone, she might have said something to him of Biffy’s tribulations, but as it was, she let her husband handle it. If they, indeed, moved in to Lord Akeldama’s neighborhood and home, he would find out the truth of the matter soon enough.
She made a dictatorial gesture at Conall.
Rather like a trained dog—although no one would dare suggest the comparison to any werewolf—Lord Maccon stood, offering both his hands. He hoisted his wife to her feet. During the last few months, Alexia had taken to using him thus on multiple occasions.
Professor Lyall stood as well.
“So it’s decided?” Alexia looked at the three supernatural gentlemen.
They all nodded at her.
“Excellent. I shall have Floote make the arrangements. Professor, can you leak our relocation to the papers so that the vampires find out? Lord Akeldama, if you would use your very own special distribution methods as well?”
“Of course, my little dewdrop.”
“At once, my lady.”
“You and I”—Lady Maccon grinned up at her husband, immersing herself, albeit briefly, in his tawny eyes—“have packing to do.”
He sighed, no doubt contemplating the pack’s reaction to the fact that their Alpha was about to reside, at least part of the time, in town. The Woolsey Pack was not exactly renowned for its interest in high society. No pack was. “How do you manage to drag me into such situations, wife?”
“Oh”—Alexia stood on tiptoe and leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose, balancing her belly against his strong frame—“you love it. Just think how terribly dull your life was before I came into it.”
The earl gave her a dour look but ceded the point.
Alexia nestled against him, enjoying the tingles his massive body still engendered in her own.
Lord Akeldama sighed. “You lovebirds, how will I endure such flirtations constantly in my company? How déclassé, Lord Maccon, to love your own wife.” He led the way out of his drawing room and into the long arched front hallway.
Inside the carriage, Lord Maccon scooped his wife against him and planted a buzzing kiss on the side of her neck.
Lady Maccon had initially thought Conall’s amorous attentions would diminish as her pregnancy progressed, but she was happily mistaken. He was intrigued by the alterations of her body—a spirit of scientific inquiry that took the form of her being unclothed as often as he could arrange it. It was a good thing this was the season for such activities; London was experiencing quite the nicest summer in an age.
Alexia settled against her husband and, grabbing his face in both hands, directed his kissing toward her mouth for a long moment. He gave a little growl that was almost a purr and hauled her closer. Her stomach got in the way, but the earl didn’t seem bothered.
They spent a half hour or so thus pleasantly occupied until Alexia said, “You really don’t mind?”
“Mind?”
“Living in Lord Akeldama’s closet?”
“I’ve done more foolish things for love in the past,” he answered, rather unguardedly, before nibbling on her ear.
Alexia shifted against him. “You have? What?”
“Well, there was this—”
The carriage bucked and the window above the door shattered.
The earl immediately shielded his wife from the flying glass with his own body. Even fully mortal, his reactions were fast and military sharp.