Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Twenty-One

Hugh watched the caber toss the hammer throw, and the shot put. There was still so much time to kill, too much time to be alone with his thoughts. He wandered into the maze of vendors in search of something to keep his mind busy. Perhaps he'd buy Carlson something for his long suffering attitude.

He passed racks of ribbons, tables filled with bolts of tartan, and creamy colored cottons. There was a book vendor, a pot and pan vendor, even a hats vendor. He perused them, trying not to make eye contact with the vendors themselves. He stopped at a table where small pewter and silver brooches, necklaces and bracelets laid out in beautiful wooden boxes.

He'd spent a good deal of time trying not to look at Constance's décolletage and these necklaces would look lovely set against it. But it seemed too intimate of a gift, and maybe not her style. He'd like to get her something that seemed like her.

"Looking for something particular," an old gentleman with curly muttonchops was standing behind the table, pipe in his teeth.

"No, not really."

"No special lady?"

"No," Hugh said flatly.

He turned to walk away when he saw a little silver bird pin. And something about it just hit him. Constance should never have been caged, and if he could give her anything, it would be the freedom to fly wherever she wanted. He picked it up. It didn't burn his fingers.

"Lovely choice," the gentleman said. "Shall I box it up for you?"

He really should not be buying gifts for a young woman he barely knew and had almost eaten. Still, it would be rude to send a gift to his sister and not include something for her house guest.

"Yes, and could you help me find a suitable present for my sister?"

"Absolutely, sir."

He waited for the gentleman to box and wrap the hair comb he'd suggested for Hannah and the pin for Constance. He imagined her wearing it and thinking about him, and he'd just about told the man to forget it. It was a terrible idea, when he found the gifts in his hand and the gentleman counting his coins good naturedly.

Now all he had to do was wait for the sheep shearing contest. He wandered down to the sheep pen, late afternoon sun lighting up golden motes of dust where he stood his foot up on the fence, the earthy scent of straw wrapping itself around him.

"Lord Connor, you're looking well."

"Baines," he growled, standing up straight, every nerve in his body thrumming.

"Keeping the beast at bay, I see."

Anger pounded through his veins. This was the man who had hurt Constance, who had meant for her to die at Hugh's own hand. The smell of him made Hugh want to sink his teeth into his neck.

"Something wrong with your nose, Baines," Hugh said, instead of mauling him like he wanted. "It looks rather askew."

Baines's eyes narrowed, and his jaw twitched.

"I'm curious," he said, "about you and Miss Allen's relationship."

"I don't see how that's any of your concern," Hugh snarled.

"Lord and Lady Huntsman are brokenhearted over her departure. I'm simply asking after her for their sake. I thought perhaps she was with you."

Hugh growled low in his throat.

"She must be quite the lady to stand being in your presence." His smile was stiff.

The boards under Hugh's grip cracked. "It would behoove you and the Huntsmans to leave Miss Allen alone," he snarled.

"Careful, Lord Connor or everyone will see your true form."

"At least I don't hide mine behind a slick smile," he said, baring his teeth and meeting Baines's glare head-on. "I won't soon forget what you tried to do." He let just enough of the beast free so that Baines could see the wolf in his gaze.

Baines took a step away but smiled. "She must be a special young lady, indeed."

The wolf reared up, anger fuzzing the edges of his vision.

"Ready to do this thing?" Owen asked, laying a firm hand on Hugh's shoulder, his smile overly bright.

People were making their way to the sheep pen. The master of ceremonies, a kilt-wearing portly gentleman with an impressive mustache, climbed up onto a little wooden platform.

Hugh took a deep breath, seeking the calming scent of the sheep. He turned to Owen and gave him a nod.

The contest between the two estates had always been close. Hugh was stronger and Owen was one of the fastest shearers in the county, but the sheep were more skittish around Hugh, plus Hugh was always careful to keep the wolf in check. The wolf liked to compete.

It was meant to be in good humor as the villagers cheered for their favorite and the Lords scrambled after sheep falling in mud and embarrassing themselves. But this year Hugh focused all his instincts on the sheep and when the master of ceremonies called for a start, he was faster and stronger than he'd ever allowed himself to be in public. Owen had a hard time keeping up, his shears flashing in the evening sun as Hugh held ram after sheep after ram down. When the time was called and Hugh's people were cheering like crazy, they had sheared twice as many as Baines and his gamekeeper.

"Lord Conner and Owen Banfield, winners!!" the master of ceremonies bellowed over the cheers.

Hugh flashed his teeth at Baines, whose face was white with rage, and then slapped Owen on the back. Owen was smiling so big Hugh's good humor returned in an instant.

They walked to their opponents. Baines said nothing as Hugh squeezed his hand a touch too hard.

"Valiant effort," Hugh said, pumping his hand up and down.

"That was some incredible shearing," Hugh said, as he and Owen walked toward their gathered people.

"Me?" Owen laughed. "Something came over you, my Lord."

"Owen, your mother changed my nappies. Call me Hugh."

Owen laughed. "Have you been holding out on me all these years? I've never seen you that fast."

"Let's just say I funneled some of that dislike I was telling you about."

Owen paused mid-step. "You asked me to keep my ears open."

Hugh stopped, unease making his hackles rise.

"It's probably nothing," Owen went on. "But Baines's gamekeeper, let slip that Baines is planning on leaving for London in the morning." Owen glanced back at Baines. "People go to London for all kinds of things, but the way he looked just now after we beat him—it's just that Hannah, I mean Lady Connor, is in London, isn't she?"

Icy fingers gripped Hugh. It wasn't just Hannah who was in London, and after his conversation earlier, he was fairly certain Baines had figured out where Constance had ended up. It was too close to a full moon for him to go traipsing back to the city. He glanced at the evening sky as if it held answers.

"Owen, I wonder if you'd do something for me?"