The Knight; His secret author

In the park

5 years ago

*Althea*

I am a fool, a right fool, for having any hope at all that the Beta of Morrowind would keep his word to approach me in the park and, in so doing, slay all my misgivings and doubts about my father’s efforts to forge me a place within pack Society. Yet, here I am with my lady’s maid and confidante, Millie, in tow, promenading over the green as though I hadn’t just managed to barely survive the most uncomfortable afternoon.

Three gentlemen… the second son of a Gamma, the third son of a Beta, and the fifth son of an Alpha… had called upon me at different times and sat in the front parlor, their posture erect as they sipped tea, while Mrs. Dorsett, the she-wolf my father had hired to serve as my chaperone, sat in a corner, the clacking of her rapidly moving knitting needles competing with the ticking of the large standing clock nestled against one wall.

It was a wonder I haven’t lost my mind and run screaming from the residence.

I had tried to be the proper and perfect hostess, to demonstrate my ability to come across as genteel, even under the most trying of circumstances.

"Would you care for tea?"

"Yes, please."

"Sugar?"

"Two lumps. Three lumps. Five lumps."

"Did you enjoy the ball?"

"Quite. Immeasurably. Enormously."

"Lovely weather today."

"Indeed."

"No April Showers."

Silence.

They had all been so frightfully serious and so remarkably dull. Not a smile among them. Nor much conversation either. And I imagined the meals we would share should I marry one of them being equally quiet, with one-word answers to any of my inquiries.

I had welcomed the escape from the residence, although enough land surrounded it that I could have walked or run for ages without meeting a soul. I am a glutton for punishment to come to the park. I have received a few nods of acknowledgment but for the most part, I have been ignored.

“Where did this Alpha Knightley state he would meet you?” Millie asks now.

“He didn’t. He merely said he would find me.”

“He does realize how large the park is, does he not?”

Raising my wrist to check the time, I nudge the edge of my glove aside and lift the floral covering of my wrist watch, a gift from my father on my sixteenth birthday. "We're a little early. He still has fifteen minutes. If he doesn't show, well, we have spent a lovely hour walking about." And being stared at.

"Is he as handsome as the gossip rags say?" She asks.

"Handsomer." Dark brown hair that reminds me of the sable lining the inside of my favorite cape, brushed into a fashionable style that reveals his ears. His side whiskers are narrow and venture no farther than the tips of his lobes.

I much prefer his neatness to the mutton chops my father sports, which actually do resemble a cut of meat and I find terribly unsightly. Especially as he also has a heavy mustache joining the two sides, rather like a bridge across his face. But Knightly doesn’t need any sort of embellishments because his facial features have been sculpted by the Goddess and it would have been a sin for any of them to have been hidden beneath swaths of hair.

"Why, Miss Althea, I do believe you're smitten. You barely said two words about him when I was readying you for bed last night following your ball, but now to hear that sigh in your voice."

"There is no sigh in my voice. I'm not so foolish as to fall so quickly." I tell her.

She smiles. "But you will fall eventually."

I very much doubt it, but like my mother, I can put on a performance when need be. "I wish Father didn't value marriage so much. I don’t want to disappoint him. One of his legitimate daughters snagged herself an Alpha last Season. The other will soon be presented to the Lycan Queen and have her coming-out. I feel as if I'm in competition with her, have been given a head start, and shall still come in last. And I suppose I consider it as a bit of a redemption for Mum. She might not have been good enough to take to Luna, but her daughter is." I shake my head. "Silly, I know."

"It's difficult. You miss her."

"I do." Even with all the servants about, the residence is so incredibly quiet and lonely. Millie is always very conscious of her position in the household. Although we are close, we can't go on outings together as equals. Millie views herself as the chaperone. Even though Mrs. Dorsett is walking along behind us now.

I haven't shared a dozen words with the matronly she-wolf, who usually communicates with only an arched eyebrow, a pursing of her lips, or a clearing of her throat. The throat-clearing reserved for the most offensive of behaviors, such as sitting too near a gentleman. Earlier that afternoon, she'd actually brought out a strip of yarn and stretched it between me and one of my suitors, demanding we each scoot over until it could no longer touch either of us.

I'm not certain I'm cut out for proper behavior. It's so deuced boring.

I also worry I might disappoint not only my father but my husband as well. I haven't grown up with an example of how one should behave within a marriage and fear I might have trouble with the obedience portion.