The Knight; His secret author

Reading people

*Althea*

I always feel a trifle awkward when my name is announced and I proceed into a ballroom, whether by descending stairs or simply emerging through a doorway. The Thornback affair hadn't announced its guests as they arrived, and I had wondered at the time if it was because the Luna of Thornback, a child of the streets, wasn't comfortable with all the pomp and circumstance.

But the Brinsley ball was handled in a manner fit for a king and his queen with an abundance of grand gestures. I had read in the gossip sheets about one ball hosted here where a giant gong had sounded when the Alpha wished to have his guests' notice before announcing the name of the she-wolf he intended to marry.

When my arrival is proclaimed, I rather feel like one of those gongs has been struck so its vibrations echoed out over the room and drew everyone's attention to the stairs. Music continues to play; couples continue to dance. Still, I have the uncomfortable sensation of every pair of eyes turning toward me, their owners judging me. It is the first time I have made an entry into a ballroom after my name was announced without my father at my side.

I feel at once conspicuous and uneasy, yet determined to make him proud. If I have learned anything at all from my mother, it is how to bury my apprehension, step onto the stage with an air of confidence, and give a performance that would bring the audience to their feet. And to imagine everyone without clothing.

Therefore, I make my grand entrance with my chin up and a smile hinting that I know everyone's secrets. I do not give away that against my kidskin my palms are damp or how my pulse thrums with the ferocity of a drummer pounding his instrument to send out a commander's orders in the midst of a skirmish. Or that I do indeed feel as though I am headed into battle.

Through Knightley, I know the Alpha of Brinsley, but is only now being introduced to his Luna. I suspect it is at Knightley's urging that I had received an invitation. I had considered declining, to prove to him that I do not require his assistance and want naught to do with him, but I am no fool. Invitations are scarce, and I need to make the most of each one received. Therefore, I had swallowed my pride, washed down the bitter taste with a perfectly aged cabernet, and drawn on my finest gown.

At the Alpha and Luna's kindhearted, sincere welcome, I am glad I had. I hadn't been certain of the Alpha's regard for me, because I do not know what Knightley might have told him regarding his reasons for not carrying through on his promise to marry me.

I have taken only a few steps away from my host and hostess when Chidding greets me with a warm smile, bows over my hand, and touches a light, barely whisper of a kiss to it. I imagine he might do the same before climbing into bed with me. He is incredibly formal, but it's the way he has been brought up. He would never be the object of a salacious book or have his name associated with scandal. But then, I would provide enough scandal for us both. I need only determine if he is willing and capable of weathering the storms my mother’s misguided heart and my own impetuous one will be sending our way.

Straightening, he says, with true joy in his voice, “I’m frightfully glad you’re here. Will you honor me with your first waltz and your last?”

“I would be delighted.”

He compliments my loveliness, as though it is something over which I have control, comments on the pleasant evening air, but stops short of asking me to take a stroll about the garden in it.

After he leaves me to make my way through the crowded ballroom, I take a coupe of champagne from a passing servant and wander along the edge of the dance floor. To a small group of four she-wolves I recognize from my first Mating Season because they, too, had debuted that year, I offer a small smile that is not returned by any of them.

As a matter of fact, in unison, they manage to give the appearance of presenting their backs to me, even without a single one of them actually turning around. I recall each had gained a mate, but before they had achieved their good fortune they had viewed me as competition even if they had all been courted by firstborn sons while I had the attentions of the lesser ones.

I hate that terminology, because it implies one son is not as important as another. Why should only one son inherit? Why should so much stock be placed in him? I’ve become so involved in inwardly arguing the unfairness of the untenable situation, I nearly jump out of my skin when a hand lands briefly on my bared upper arm. When I spin around, a bubble of laughter escapes. “Miss Letitia.”

The young she-wolf smiles brightly. “You looked as you do when concentrating deeply on your cards at a gaming table at the wolves.”

“Merely contemplating the hard row non-firstborn sons are forced to plow.”

“You have a firstborn interested in you, though. Alpha Chidding’s face quite lit up when your name was announced.”

More than a hundred people have to be circling about this room, and the she-wolf noticed one gentleman’s reaction? Why had she been studying Chidding to begin with? Had she a tendre for him? “He has shown me some kindness, yes. Not everyone does.”

“Probably because you best them at cards. You took most of my allowance the last time I sat at a table with you.”

I feel silly for being grateful to this she-wolf for drawing me aside, for actually speaking with me, and for feeling a need to show a measure of appreciation after the rebuffs I've suffered thus far. I place my hand near some curling strands of my hair that dangle against my neck and begin coiling the tresses around my index finger. “You always play with your hair like this when you’re holding a pair of jacks or better.”

Her eyes widen. “I do not!”

I shrug. “As you wish.”

“Do I really?” Miss Letitia furrows her brow and gnaws on her lower lip.

“And you do that, worry your teeth on that lovely lower lip I’m certain some gent wishes to kiss when you’ve been dealt nothing of consequence.”

“Devil take it. I think I do. Is that how you manage to win?”

“The players always reveal much more than the cards.”

“What about Alpha Langdon? How do you know what sort of hand he’s holding?”

“Ah, he gives no hints whatsoever. He is a formidable player, although I suspect it's because his family has a close association with the club owner, and he’s spent many hours at the card table, perfecting his ability to give nothing away. From what I understand, his family’s origins are almost as scandalous as mine.”

“Much worse to be sure. His father was known as the Devil Alpha. While yours, in spite of his sins, still managed to be respected by most of the high packs.”

His sins. Of which I am the result of one. No matter how fancy I dress or how warmly I am greeted, I can’t remove the stain of my birth. I’ve condemned my daughter to a repeat of my mother’s life. Would Chidding be able to spare the child at least some of the worst of it?

“What of Alpha Knightley?”

With a mental shake to turn my thoughts from my worries, I study the young she-wolf standing before me. “What of him?”

“Does he provide any clues regarding his cards?”

When he knows he has a chance of winning, he brushes back those forelocks that never want to stay in place. I offer Miss Letitia a coy smile. “I can’t share all my secrets. It would place me at a disadvantage, and I do so love winning.”

“Who doesn’t?” Beta Lautious asks as he smoothly steps into our circle. He bows his head toward me. “Miss Leyland, I hope you’re enjoying yourself at my brother’s soiree.”

“I am indeed, my Beta.”

“Good. I hate to deprive you of conversation, but…” he offers his arm to Miss Letitia, “this lovely she-wolf promised me the next dance.”

As Miss Letitia places her hand upon his forearm, she also begins twirling strands of her hair, so her habit extends beyond the gaming table to signal anything she truly likes or takes pleasure in. Or perhaps she thinks she is on the verge of winning Beta Lautius. I decide I don’t need to make Miss Letitia feel self-conscious by telling her what I have noticed. “Enjoy the quadrille,” I say instead and then watch them walk away.