The king: His mail-order mate

Getting herself ready

*Penny*

Good Goddess. Dinner at the club with the hand. Known for their mastery of strategy and their ruthlessness when it comes to tactical investment and business maneuvers, they earned their moniker while at Alpha school, and it has carried through to the present.

I can hardly believe my good fortune. I have dined with them before, here at the residence as well as at the country estate. But at the club... Well, it is unprecedented. None are admitted into our inner circle, and while I won't be in it, I will be at the edge of it, breathing the same air as they do. Even if I'm going as a secretary with the specific duty of taking notes, I still feel empowered.

When it comes to formal attire, my wardrobe is somewhat lacking. I usually eat my evening meal with the servants, but on the rare occasion the Alpha invites me to join him and his guests, it has always been an informal affair. Even when the dowager Luna is in town and deigns to have me at the table, it is with the understanding that it is because of the older woman's generosity, and I am expected to still look the part of staff, so I always wear one of my dark blue dresses.

Within my wardrobe, the only clothing that comes remotely close to being formal is the pale green gown I wore to oversee last year's ball so I wouldn't look too out of place wandering among the guests as I ensured everything was being managed as it should. Still, it is rather understated, with a square neckline that reveals my collarbones and perhaps an inch and a half of skin below them, but certainly no cleavage, no swells, no hint of forbidden flesh. The sleeves are narrow puffy caps that rest off my shoulders and barely cover the top curve of my arms. The bustle is modest. The skirt is without ribbons, although it does have additional fabric that drapes in a few tiers down to the floor. As for my hair...

"Lucy, I simply can't express how much I appreciate this."

The chambermaid smiles, the mirror catching her reflection. "Don't be daft, Penny. I enjoy doing your hair. It's incredibly manageable. I would do it for you every morning if you asked."

Only I'm not going to ask. Lucy Smithers has enough to see to, looking after all the upstairs chambers. Even when only one is occupied, she has to ensure all the others are dusted, swept, and ready to go at a minute's notice. Still, as I study my coiffure in the mirror, the manner in which Lucy has pinned up my hair but created curls that float down my back, I can't help but wish that femininity wasn't a detriment to being taken seriously. The pearl comb hiding the pins, helping to keep everything in place, is a nice touch. I purchased it for last year's ball extravagance, but it is something my mum always longed to possess, and so I justified the expense as a tribute to my departed mother.

"You look as fancy as any she-wolf I have ever seen. I daresay the Alpha won't half change his mind about using that advert when he catches sight of you."

My heart pounds so hard I'm surprised I don't see the bodice of my gown throb in the mirror. Turning away from my reflection, I walk to the bed, pick up a white silk glove from where I set it earlier, and begin to tug it on. "Don't be ridiculous. He comes from too storied a family to settle for a commoner." Especially one with beginnings such as mine.

"You never know. He wouldn't be the first Alpha to do such a thing."

If I could get to a betting book, I would wager all my yearly earnings that he will do no such thing. Unlike Lucy, who has a romantic bent, I am moored in reality. As is Kingsley. The man doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. I know because whenever he had to be absent for any length of time while courting Miss Kiona Softpaw, he instructed me to "Send her flowers or something every few days so she knows I'm thinking of her."

Which means he hasn't thought about me at all. Out of sight, out of mind. I need to find a mate for him who doesn't cling, who doesn't need to have her hand held constantly, and who is strong enough to see to herself. A She-wolf with her own interests, her own goals, who has the ability to take hold of her role as Luna to the Alpha of Brinsley and make it her own. An independent sort, a she-wolf much like myself, who knows her worth is not measured by the man in her life but by her own accomplishments.

Thus far in their letters, the she-wolves have listed books they have read, tunes to which they enjoy dancing, instruments mastered. The ability to manage a household. How do I go about judging a woman's strengths based on reading words on paper? I might have to actually meet the most promising candidates.

If the she-wolf I select eventually rejects his suit, the failure will rest on my shoulders, but pack Society will place it on his and that outcome I will not tolerate.

While he hasn't seemed to mind the recent debacle, the Alpha of Brinsley is accustomed to enjoying success. Another fiasco, one delivered by my hands, might see me losing my position.

However, can I carry on, seeing him day in and day out, night in and night out, with another she-wolf? He has always been so discreet with his affairs that sometimes I'm not even certain if he's had any. But a man as virile as he can't go long without seeing to his s****l needs.

I pick up my bag. It contains my notebook and pencil, since the gown is flawed and possesses no pocket. In spite of my requesting the modiste include two, the woman failed to do so, citing something about them marring the lines. Lines are not more important than pockets, but I have had no time to have another gown sewn before it was needed. So here I am with a defective gown, but taking another quick glance in the mirror, I have to admit I look quite well turned out in it.

"Wake me when you get in," Lucy says as she follows me into the hallway. "I want to hear all about your evening and the gaming hell, whatever bit of it you can see."

"I can't imagine we will be out so late that you will be abed by the time we return." I head down the stairs. When I reach the bottom of them, a couple of servants stop to grin stupidly at me as though I'm not the one who often scolds them for being so loud I can hear them in my office and barely concentrate. "Off with you. Don't you have work to do?"

"You look quite lovely, Miss Pettifur," Harry says.

I fear I'm blushing, can't remember the last time I did although it's possible it might have happened that morning when the Alpha tucked my wayward strands of hair behind my ear. He's never performed such an intimate service for me before, and it took nearly an hour to get my lungs to behave properly again. "Thank you, Harry."

"Enjoy your evening."

"I shall."

"Remember," Lucy says, "to come tell me everything."

"All right. Although I doubt there will be anything of significance to report." After all, it's merely dinner, and I'm to take notes. Nothing out of the ordinary from my regular duties, except for the location. Then I grin as stupidly as the footmen did. I'm going to a gentlemen's club.