At the ball

*Nick*

Tonight is the real test. She-wolves are much more discerning than men, and while I have managed to run the gauntlet of the House of alphas without mucking things up, and Julia has handled morning calls with aplomb, I know the ball will prove a challenge, as we will be appearing as a couple at this well-attended function. Especially troubling is the notion that Noah may have had discussions with people, and those people might expect me to know what they’re talking about when I won’t have a bloody clue.

Watching Julia put on her ear bobs, I would much rather stay here and take them off, along with her gown. “We don’t have to go.”

She catches my gaze in the reflection. “It’s the their first ball since they married. People will find it odd if the Alpha of Greystorm doesn’t make an appearance.”

I move up behind her, pressing a kiss to the nape of her slender neck. “Then we shan’t stay long. How does that suit?”

“We might have a marvelous time. I want at least two dances with you.”

“Only waltzes.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Tonight she looks radiant in a gown that shimmers between black and blue, depending on the light. It gives her a sleek look, certainly not the body of a she-wolf who a little over half a year ago had given birth. I know some she-wolves who seem to grow wider with each child, but Julia looks as though she’s only recently had her coming out. Slender and svelte.

“Keep looking at me with so much heat in your eyes, and we might not even make it through two dances,” she teases.

“I’m familiar enough with Tom’s residence to know where every dark corner lurks. Don’t be surprised if I decide we should make use of one or two before the night is done.”

Rising, she gives me a seductive smile. “I think we should try for three or four at least.”

I pull her into my arms. “Is it any wonder I love you?”

I lean in, only to find her gloved finger proving a barrier to my destination. “I know what you’re thinking, and I know where it will lead… to me having to redress and have my hair put back up. We will be late. The Alpha of Greystorm is never late.”

The Alpha of Greystorm needs to consider changing some of his habits. Perhaps I can chalk it up to being a new father.

“So be it.” I offer my arm. “But you will make it up to me later by screaming my name until it’s echoing off these walls.”

She looks at me through half-lowered lids. “I was thinking tonight that you would be screaming mine.”

“Bloody hell.” Grabbing her hand, I begin dragging her toward the door. “Let’s get this over with. I want to be back in this room within the hour.”

Her laughter follows us out.

*Julia*

I know that once we arrive, there will be no hasty leaving. This is one of the first balls of the matin Season. Much gossip needs to be caught up on, news to be shared, debutantes to speculate over, and matches to predict.

I manage to enjoy one dance with Nick before I’m snagged by a trio of she-wolves whose first Season has been rather unremarkable, and who are hoping for better with their second.

“I was so sorry to hear of beta Nick’s passing,” Miss Honoria says. “I wanted to attend the funeral, but Mama said it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“I shall miss dancing with him,” Miss Angela offers.

“I shall miss his stories,” Miss Sarah murmurs on a sigh, as though he had recounted them just for her. “And his dashing good looks.”

“How can you miss his dashing good looks when you have only to look at his brother to see him again?” Miss Honoria asks.

She nods, “I suppose you have a point.”

“I nearly fainted dead away tonight when I first saw Alpha Greystorm,” Miss Angela admits with a laugh that grates on my nerves. “Until I remembered they were twins. I thought he was a ghost for a moment there.”

“It must be so odd to have someone look exactly like you.” Miss Sarah gives me a pointed look. “Did you ever confuse them?”

“No,” I lie. “The more one is around them, the easier it is to tell them apart.”

“He was such a scalawag,” Miss Honoria says. She glances around as though she expects that scalawag to jump out of the crowd at any moment. Then she leans in and whispers in a conspiratorial voice, “He gave me my first kiss.”

“No!” Miss Angela exclaims.

“Yes. In a dark corner of a terrace at a ball.”

I do not want to hear this, do not want to hear the details of Nick’s exploits, although to be fair, neither did I want to hear those of Noah. It’s not a bad thing for a man and wife to keep some mystery about them.

“I wish he had kissed me,” Miss Sarah whines in a high-pitched voice that is rather like silver scraping over silver. It sends an awful skitter up my spine.

“He might have this mating Season,” Miss Honoria says. “He would only take you out if he knew you weren’t trying to trap him into marriage.”

“I would have tried to trap him,” Miss Regina confesses.

“Not I,” Miss Honoria tells her. “He was jolly good fun, and I enjoyed his company, but he wasn’t titled, and I don’t think he was the sort to take his vows seriously.”

“He takes his vows very seriously,” I blurt out before I can consider the ramifications of my words. “I mean, he would have had he had the opportunity to marry.”

“I’m not sure,” Miss Honoria insists.

“I’m absolutely positive,” I say, unable to bear the thought of these silly girls thinking the worst of Nick, of not truly comprehending the decent, good person that he is. “He was an honorable man. And as I am his sister-by-marriage, I had the opportunity to know him far better and observe him in many more situations than you did.”

“There was certainly nothing honorable in his kiss. It was frightfully wicked. He promised me another one this Season, and now I shan’t have it.” While the other two girls giggle, Miss Honoria produces an exaggerated pout.

I have an insane urge to pull that jutting lower lip down to the girl’s knees. “Yes, well, we certainly want to concentrate on how inconvenient his death is for you.”

“I mean no offense.”

Yet I have taken offense. They are disparaging him, mocking him, and I hate it, hate that they don’t know him as I do. They see him as offering little more than kisses in the garden. “My apologies. I’m still mourning his passing.” Not that I think I have anything for which to apologize. I simply want these girls gone from my presence before I say something rash, before I do something to threaten the new life I am striving to build.

“We just wanted to express our sorrow over your loss,” Miss Sarah says, before ushering the others away as though she were a mother hen and they were her chicks.

Thank the Goddess. I need another dance with Nick to help settle my nerves. Or a glass of brandy. I wonder where I might find that. I’ve been to the refreshment room earlier, and there was only lemonade and sparkling wine to be found there. Still, wine is better than nothing.

“Julia.”

Turning, I smile at the friendly and familiar face. “Ashebury.”

“Surely after all these years you can call me Tom.”

“I’ll try.”

He glances around as though seeking a secluded spot. “Let’s dance, shall we?”

“You’re in luck, as my dance card isn’t filled tonight.” It had been before I married. Every ball had been a whirlwind of dances. Tonight I haven’t even bothered to bring an extra pair of slippers.

I have waltzed with Tom a dozen times, have always been comfortable with his presence, but for some reason tonight words escape me. He knows the truth, and I don’t know quite how to respond to that. “It’s a lovely ball. So well attended. It speaks to how much you and your mate are loved.”

“I suspect it speaks more to curiosity. Minerva and I seem an odd match.”

“I never thought so.” I tell him.

“Speaking of odd matches…”

“Don’t,” I command in a low sharp tone.

“I just never saw the two of you together.”

“He’s changed.” Only he hasn’t really, has he? I simply see him differently, see him as he truly is. I shake my head. “It’s not that. I never really knew him before. I don’t think he really knew me. We’re quite compatible. More than compatible. I love him.”

Drawing me closer, leaning in, he sweeps me in a circle as he whispers, “He is not Noah.”

“I am very much aware of that. He resembles him not at all. I wouldn’t be with him if he did. He is not a substitute for… what we have is very different. But it’s what I want. What I need.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want him to get hurt.” He says softly.

“Life offers us no guarantees against being hurt. He would not hurt me, not on purpose.”

He grins wryly. “That I know to be fact. Even at his worst, when he is three sheets to the wind, there is good in him.”

“People don’t seem to truly know him. I think it’s because he never wanted to outshine his brother. He accepted his place as the second, the spare. In his journal, my husband wrote that fate made a mistake in allowing him to be born first. It’s funny how we sometimes allow pack Society and our place in it to determine our behavior, even if it goes against the grain. You’re his friend; you grew up with him. You must know how incredibly worthy he is.”

“His worthiness has nothing to do with my misgivings. I would defend him to the death, and I will stand by him on this. And by you. If you ever need me for anything, do not hesitate to call on me.”

I give him a small smile, “Although I am sorry that you lost your parents when you were a child, I am grateful for your place in Noah and Nick’s life.”

“And now in yours.”

“And now in mine.”

The music drifts into silence. He kisses the back of my hand. “Fortunate men, my friends.”

Laughing, I arch a brow. “To have your friendship?”

“To have your love.” He says softly.