Chapter Fifteen
FIFTEEN
The night is uneventful. The town house is in a fine part of town only a few blocks from the train station, and we are given a floor of rooms to ourselves.
There is no staff, but a cold repast has been laid out, the food excellent in both quality and quantity.
Hamish’s three sons and their small entourage don’t suggest dining with us.
Again, the message is clear. You are our guests, and we will show you every civility, but we are not ready to sit down at the table with you.
I then discover one advantage to dining with werewolves. I spend only a split second indulging in poisoned-food paranoia before realizing they’d smell it. I likely would, too.
Bishop and I take advantage of having a room to ourselves, but it’s a quiet bit of mutual pleasuring, more pressure release than anything, both of us on edge. So far our welcome is acceptable and even promising, but we cannot let our guard down.
We wake to more food delivered, along with a note that we will be departing at ten, and there is a soft rain, meaning we may want to continue wearing our travel clothes.
Very polite and considerate, and a mark in their favor, though it does leave me wondering which brother wrote it.
The problem with there being three—with no named heir—is that Bishop doesn’t know where to focus his attention.
Of course, the benefit is that he can choose the one best suited as an ally.
When we descend just before ten, all three brothers are there, along with the two other wolves who’d accompanied them. Those two had driven the coaches last night and presumably will again.
“I ask Bishop and his mate to ride with me,” Edwin says. “Along with another of your party. The remaining two will ride with my brothers.”
“My cousin will ride with us,” Bishop says. “Rufus and Kenric? If you would go with Angus and Dennis, please.”
There might be no named heir, but there is an eldest. I think Edwin is staking his claim, positioning himself as the one to escort the Albion Alpha, but the middle son—Angus—seems perfectly fine with it, and the youngest—Dennis—just continues to look bored by this whole excursion.
Edwin speaks to his brothers before they leave, and it’s all very relaxed, Angus giving Edwin an affectionate slap on the shoulder as he leaves and then chatting with Dennis as they walk to where Rufus and Kenric wait.
Interesting.
If there’s sibling rivalry here, they’re doing a very good job of hiding it.
We take our places in the coach. Julius tries for polite conversation, but Edwin’s responses are cool and don’t encourage chatter.
“You will dine with my father tonight,” Edwin says as the coach leaves the city. “He will likely be occupied until then, but I’ll ensure you have what you need.”
Bishop’s pause before responding is so brief that Edwin doesn’t seem to notice it.
I do—and I know he’s inwardly growling. Hamish might very well be busy, but to not grant us an audience until dinner suggests the sort of grandstanding Bishop hoped to avoid.
His Pack is in danger, their home destroyed, his business urgent.
But he only says “Thank you.”
“To expedite matters, I’ll ask you to explain the entirety of the situation to me, so I might consult with my father before dinner.”
“Will he have time for that?” I ask, my expression mild curiosity only, but—sitting beside Edwin—Julius still passes me a smirk.
“My father and I have other matters to discuss,” Edwin says. “I will include that.”
“Did your father request that we tell you first?” Bishop says, his tone and expression unreadable. “Or is that your own initiative?”
I expect a pause, but to Edwin’s credit, he doesn’t bluster or prevaricate.
“It is my suggestion. My father knows only what your message said. That Silas is dead, you are Alpha, and the Albion Pack has been attacked by outside forces. I can tell—particularly with you bringing a mate—that the situation is complicated. My father…” Edwin clears his throat.
“My father is a very busy man. An excellent Alpha, who remains as strong and capable as ever. But he has grown accustomed to an order of operations. When problems are brought to him, they are delivered efficiently so that he might obtain the information he needs concisely, make his decision, and move on to the next problem.”
“I might suggest,” Bishop says, so smoothly, “that the destruction of Trevelyan and the possible annihilation of the Albion Pack is a larger problem than he might usually see. The only way to deal with this swiftly is to murder my entire envoy, eliminate the rest of our Pack, and expand his territory to include London. If that is his plan, we can skip the formality of dinner.”
Edwin blinks before saying, “That is a joke, I presume?”
“Not a joke but a hypothetical. I’m sure it’s not Hamish’s plan, because he is wise enough to know that if an outside force can do this to the Albion Pack, they might not stop with us.”
“We have no intention of murdering you,” Edwin says coldly. “The Caledonian Pack is honorable.”
“So why does Hamish consider this a minor issue, quickly resolved?”
Emotions flicker across Edwin’s face, too fast to follow. Then he says, “As I said, telling me first is my suggestion. My father will respond better to a concise accounting. I have a feeling this story is not best told over dinner, and yet that is his plan.”
“He is, as you say, busy and accustomed to his reports being delivered concisely.”
“Yes.”
“You are offering to do that for us.”
“Yes.”
“Which also means you will have the ability to reshape the narrative as you see fit.” Bishop lifts a hand as Edwin’s eyes darken. “Take no offense. I do not know you.”
“If you did, you would know that my reputation is one of both honor and honesty. I say what I mean, sometimes to my detriment, as I did to your mate.” He nods my way. “My father values my honesty, and if he discovered that I gave him an untrue accounting, it would not go well for me.”
Bishop looks out the window, thinking this through and weighing his options. He can’t ask my opinion but if I were to give it, I’d say that Edwin might pride himself on honesty, but he’s dancing around a truth here.
I don’t think he plans to “reshape the narrative.” It’d be too easy a lie to unravel. No, the truth he’s obfuscating is about his father.
He fears Hamish will not give this matter the attention it requires.
Edwin wants to hear our story and decide how best to put it to his father because his father’s attention wanders easily and Edwin recognizes that our situation could also represent a threat to his Pack.
Is this a method Hamish has long used? Having others pass on concise reports? Or is it a more recent issue of age? Or not an issue at all, but a failing—a man who needs his meat cut into little pieces because he can’t bother to chew properly?
“It is for the best,” Edwin says. Then a long pause before he adds, with obvious reluctance, “You have my word on that.”
“All right then.” Bishop clasps my hand as he settles in. “What happened at Trevelyan is a long and complicated tale, and if you can assure me you are the person to best condense it for your father…”
“I am.”
“Then I will take this step of trust and, furthermore, I will give you the full accounting, which includes some history you may or may not be aware of.”
“Everything will help.”
“All right then. We start with the Albion Pack and why Silas accepted two Danvers wolves and the wolves they brought with them. The Pack was struggling, young wolves leaving under Silas’s leadership…”
Bishop doesn’t tell Edwin everything, of course. There are nuances he doesn’t need to know, ones that overcomplicate the story. But the bones of it are laid out, along with a generous layer of extra substance once it’s clear that Edwin is a willing and perceptive audience.
I don’t know what to make of the eldest son. He reminds me of a man of business. Perhaps a barrister. Sharp-witted and outwardly forthright but still careful with his words, the sort of man who acts as if he is laying all his cards on the table, when you know he has a few hidden from view.
How would he translate into Alphahood? Decently, I think. He’s not Bishop, but he seems competent.
For our purposes, though, Edwin is what we need. Someone who will understand the whole of our story and is intelligent enough to make connections and ask probing questions.
“So you are not a member of the Levine Cabal?” Edwin says to me afterward. “Despite what you said last night?”
“I said I was part of the family. Not that I was part of the cabal. Nor do I want to be, but this isn’t about Bishop protecting me.”
Edwin lifts a hand. “Yes, yes, I heard all that, and it’s very clear as well as being none of my concern.
I don’t know how my father will feel about you having a mate, Bishop, but that was not your decision and for an Alpha to turn his mate over to a cabal would be…
” His lip curls. “Distasteful. It’s the symbolism of the matter, and my father will understand that. ”
Edwin sits back. “Leave this with me. I will decide how to put it to my father, and if I must make omissions or deviations, I will consult with you first, so that you are not caught unaware.”
“That is appreciated.”
“Once we arrive, you will be assigned escorts. They will show you to your rooms and see to your needs. You are, of course, welcome to look about, but I will ask that if you leave the main residence, you have your escorts show you around, especially with…” He nods my way.
“We are guests in your home,” Bishop says. “We will behave as such and accept the courtesy of an escort.”