In Regency-era England, Constance is powerless to change her social status or find romance no matter how lonely she might be or how much her family might depend on her. But when she's locked in a werewolf Lord's bedroom on a full moon night, she'll...
"How are we going to find them?" Simon asked, his horse pawing the London cobblestones nervously.
"I know someone who might help us get close, and once we're within range, I'll be able to feel her."
He dismounted. Simon slid out of his saddle. It had been a grueling trip and Simon hadn't complained once, though he had hummed tunelessly most of the way.
The door to the bookshop was locked. Hugh pounded on it with his fist.
An eternity passed before a light lit up an upstairs window.
Finally, the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman in a nightcap, a cat twining around her ankles.
"I'm sorry to wake you," Hugh said.
She waved him off. "Who can sleep with all this restless energy charging through the city? It's a dark night indeed when even the Colonial can't rest." She moved aside so they could enter the bookshop. The cat shied away from him, going immediately to Simon.
She set her candle down on the counter. "What do you need?"
"I'm looking for someone. This belongs to her." He fished the tiny bird pin out of his vest pocket.
She pulled a map of London out from a shelf, then smoothed it out on the counter. She took the pin and laid it on the map, then concentrated on it, her hand hovering in the air.
The witch's vacant gaze sent a shiver through him. Simon stepped up beside him so that their arms were touching and began opening and closing his pocket watch.
The bookshop owner stayed like that, her lips moving wordlessly, an uncomfortably long time. And then her hand dropped, her index finger pressed to a spot on the map. She blinked and shook her head.
"Oh dear, she's the one causing trouble near St. James."
Hugh turned to the door.
"It won't be safe for you," she said urgently. "That's the nexus of this spirit of unrest."
"We have to get to her," Hugh said simply. "I'm stronger than you think."
"You are not stronger than this," she said matter-of-factly. The cat meowed his consent.
Hugh met Simon's eye. "You could stay here."
Simon shook his head.
As Hugh mounted his horse, he tried not to think about the royal family tucked away in the castle or his sister at the mercy of a despot or Constance, so distressed that a witch could sense it on the other side of the city.
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They rode through eerily empty streets, the horses' hooves echoing loudly, the smell of sewage dank and oppressive.
Simon's horse halted, and then so did Hugh's own.
"They aren't going to go any further," Simon said, simply as he slid to the ground.
Hugh followed suit. He patted his mount's rump, and then they started walking, leaving the horses behind.
