The Wolf’s Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(24)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Trehmont sputtered as Eastbrook leaned in to grab a biscuit. "My lady, that is not at all proper information, nor is it true."

"Oh." Gwen tilted her head and shrugged. "I overheard some of the servants, or was it Redding discussing something of the sort? I’m sure it was nothing." She smiled and waved into the air.

Redding’s face turned pale as he looked at all the gentleman. "Well, on that note, I believe it is time for me to go. Apparently I’ve gone mad, to make up such silly lies." He bowed to the ladies, and went to kiss Gwen’s hand. "I look forward to our walk through the park Monday afternoon."

Hunter noticed Redding’s hand was clenching Gwen’s quite forcefully. He was ready to jump to her rescue when Eastbrook suddenly jerked to his feet, nearly knocking Redding away, considering how close in proximity they were.

"Oh, apologies." Eastbrook looked anything but apologetic. Interesting indeed that he would be so perceptive of Gwen’s discomfort. Hunter wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or irritated. He decided on both.

"Let us have that wonderful discussion over a glass of whiskey," Eastbrook addressed Hunter. Reluctantly, he rose from his seat and followed his cousin out of the house.

****

Hunter wasn’t sure why he felt such a glutton for punishment, nor why he had even agreed to this ridiculous meeting. He ordered a whiskey and took a seat next to the famous bay window of White’s.

The same window that had witnessed men lose entire fortunes. For who was stupid enough to bet how many people would walk by and what type of hats they would be wearing?

Hunter drank greedily from the glass and sighed. Eastbrook took a seat opposite him and glared.

"At least allow me the pleasure of being foxed, so when you attempt to murder me, it won’t aggravate my nose."

Eastbrook smirked. "Got yourself into a little scratch, did you?"

A vision of Gwen flashed through Hunter’s mind. A scratch? Did that make her a kitten? Blast, what he wouldn’t give to be the man to help her retract those claws. He shifted uncomfortably and smirked into his glass before answering, "You could say that."

An awkward silence followed, if one could ever call White’s silent.

"You must make amends before he dies."

"For what?" Hunter all but yelled, as the pain of that day came back full force and hit him squarely in the chest. "Don’t you think I know it was my fault?"

Eastbrook said nothing, so Hunter continued. "Have I not suffered enough? I am a shell of a man." He hadn’t meant to say that part aloud.

Eastbrook reared back as if he had just been slapped. Hunter cursed and went to order another whiskey. When he returned, Eastbrook was looking out the window.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Hunter cringed. "Do not tell me you are becoming sentimental."

"Do you remember?" Eastbrook looked at him and grinned. "I told you I was going to grow up and marry a beautiful woman, and that when she said yes I would howl like a wolf does unto the moon. I would howl with excitement, with pleasure."

"We were but lads." Hunter felt the need to clear his throat of the emotion that now clogged it.

"You said if I was a wolf, then you and Ash would be the wolf’s companions. We would grow up, marry beautiful women, and howl together at the moon in our excitement."

Hunter hadn’t heard his brother’s name on anyone’s lips for ten years. It hurt more than he’d realized it would.

"The three of us, we were best friends."

"And then I ruined it. Was that what you were going to say?" Voice hoarse, Hunter had to look away to keep himself from lashing out.

"No," Eastbrook said calmly. "I was going to say, you abandoned the dream."

Unable to believe his ears, Hunter jerked back toward Eastbrook. "I had no choice! In one blasted day I lost the love of my life and my only remaining blood relation. Tell me, if you are so wise, cousin, what would you have done?"

Eastbrook sighed. "I wouldn’t have shamed my family by abandoning them when they needed me most. I wouldn’t refuse to respond to letters. I wouldn’t disappear without a trace. I wouldn’t leave a dying old man without saying goodbye, and I sure as fire would not have disgraced my dead wife’s memory by screwing the first whore that smiled at me."

Hunter focused on a tiny speck on the window. It was the only way to keep himself from killing his cousin with his bare hands. He had no idea of Hunter’s pain. How dare he judge him! He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen the blood. Oh, the blood.

He swallowed another gulp of whiskey and put his mask firmly back into place before looking back at his cousin. "You’re boring me. Are we done?"

"Yes." Eastbrook’s eyes narrowed. "But you need to visit him. Promise me, if our past friendship meant anything to you, promise me you’ll visit him. And soon."

"Fine," Hunter said hastily. "I’ll visit him first thing Monday morning, if that pleases you. But you will do me a favor in return."

"Do you truly think you are in a position to be asking me a favor?"

"Yes." With a smug grin, Hunter raised his glass to his lips. "I believe I am."

Eastbrook nodded, just once. "Let’s have it."

"Stay away from her."

"I’m sorry, you are going to need to be more specific as to who you are referring to."

"Lady Gwendolyn. Stay away from her."

Eastbrook swallowed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass on the table in front of them. Without answering, he turned and walked toward the door, then seemed to think better about it and stole a glance back at Hunter. "Do not ask me to make promises I cannot keep."

"She is…" Hunter couldn’t very well say mine. That sounded possessive. Yet all he wanted to do was slug his cousin across the jaw for the condescending smile pasted on his face.

"She is what?" With a laugh, Eastbrook walked out of the establishment, leaving Hunter alone and very much wanting to murder the next person that dared speak to him.

"Fancy seeing you here."

He knew that voice. Please let it not be true. Please let him be already foxed and conjuring up dukes.

He looked to his left and saw Montmouth with another fellow in tow. God was surely punishing him. He hadn’t the temper to talk with Montmouth longer than two seconds.

Hunter imagined his body would be thrown through the glass window if he engaged in a longer conversation.

"May we sit?" Montmouth motioned to the two empty chairs. Hunter quickly took a long swig of his drink.