The Wolf's Pregnant Bride

  The Werewolf's Pregnant Bride

  Written by Jane B. Night

  Copyright 2016 Jane B. Night

  BZ Publishing LLC

  Lancaster Ohio

  This book is a work of fiction. Any and all historical figures are used fictitiously. Other than known historical figures, the characters in this book are works of fiction and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidence.

  This book is a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced or redistributed without the permission of the copyright holder.

  Authors note:

  Dearest Reader,

  Thank you so much for taking the time to enjoy this book. It has been a pleasure to write.

  I researched this book to the best of my ability but there may be errors in history. In some cases I chose to use people and events in history in a fictitious way for the sake of storytelling.

  Please forgive me these errors.

  Feel free to contact me at authorjanebnight@yahoo.com with any questions or comments.

  I look forward to hearing from you and I hope you enjoy reading this book.

  Jane

  Chapter 1

  Nathaniel tried not to stare but Vivian looked beautiful tonight with her green dress bringing out the equal amounts of green in her eyes. Her blond ringlets hanging around her shoulders would have intoxicated any man and they did indeed seem to be.

  "I'm sorry, my dance card is full," Vivian said batting her eyelashes at Nathaniel a moment before twirling around and heading to the other side of the dance floor.

  Nathaniel Wolstenholme sighed. Her card probably had a Duke or two not to mention countless Earls and Barons.

  His eyes surveyed the ballroom until he located his older brother, Eldon, who was standing next to their father near the wall. He had expected Eldon to be out on the dance floor with his new bride.

  Claire, Vivian's sister and his new sister-in-law, was standing next to Eldon listening to whatever conversation he and their father were having. Nathaniel pushed past several ladies whose skirts were so large they reminded him of the hand bells used in rehearsal by change ringers.

  "I could barely believe it. The peasants must have been lunatics to destroy all that machinery! I can't imagine the cost. So many jobs lost," his father said.

  "Were the culprits apprehended?" Eldon asked. He had a glass in his hand which he raised to his lips and took a large swallow from before refocusing his attention on their father.

  "And jailed."

  "It is so sad. With the machines broken many men will be unable to work. Think of all the hungry children," Claire added. Pain played on her face and Nathaniel was sure that she really was feeling deep sorrow for those hypothetically starving children.

  "The men destroyed the machines to save jobs and protect their livelihood. The machines replace the need for much of their labors," Nathaniel said.

  "There is always work to be had. New machines will create new jobs. It is the way of the future. Businessmen are not going to go back to the old ineffective ways of doing things just because of a few vandals. Besides, if machines allow goods to be made more efficiently, eventually prices will go down and it will benefit no one more than the poor," his father said.

  "If they have any jobs at all," Claire added. Eldon took another drink from his glass.

  "I suppose we should be grateful that our people will never need to worry about that. I think we are the only landowners in the area who are not losing people to the cities. It is really a shame," Nathaniel said. The world around them was changing in leaps and bounds.

  "We don't demand exorbitant rents. Of course it helps that King George doesn't require much in the way of goods from us. We could not remain at as we are if our kingdom taxes were higher," his father said. Other landowners primarily paid the king in goods while the Wolstenholmes paid in blood. Every man born on the land who grew to be werewolf had to serve in the army that the Wolstenholmes supplied to the kingdom.

  "Yes but-" Eldon started to speak but he was cut off.

  "Sir." Owen appeared from the crowd. Nathaniel hadn't noticed him approach until he spoke which was not surprising. Owen had been the Wolstenholme butler since Nathaniel's father was a child. He was stooped and gray haired but still able to sneak up on misbehaving children as if by magic. Nathaniel had never seen such stealth in a man so aged and he couldn't help envying it. Though it was common for werewolves to reach old age Owen was old even for their kind.

  "Yes?" Nathaniel's father asked.

  "There is a visitor to see you in the drawing room," Owen said.

  "Tell him to come back another day. I will not leave the ball celebrating my son's marriage to talk business."

  "He is not a business associate," Owen said.

  "Send him here to speak with me if he is dressed properly. Otherwise, he may leave a card and I will call on him tomorrow." Nathaniel doubted that his father's caller was dressed for a formal ball.

  "I believe you will want to speak to the gentleman. It is a matter of some urgency," Owen said.

  "If you think it is urgent I will see him," Nathaniel's father said slowly after a long moment studying Owen's face. Nathaniel studied it too but he never had been able to see whatever subtle gestures that his father and Owen used for their silent communication. Owen had the same serious face he did whether he was scolding another servant or delivering a brandy to his master.

  "I hope it isn't something too serious," Claire said as his father disappeared into the hallway. Claire moved closer to Eldon and wrapped her arm tightly around his but he didn't seem to take any notice of his wife's distress.

  "I am sure it is not," Nathaniel said even though he could not be sure of any such thing.

  "Did you see Mercy dancing with the Duke of Gloucester?" Claire asked.

  "I hope you mean the next in line for that title," Nathaniel said. The Duke of Gloucester was older than himself by at least ten years and possibly much more. His sister Mercy was barely a woman.

  "I do not," Claire said, "I suppose it would have been rude to refuse a dance with him."

  "She would do better to dance with marriageable men," Nathaniel said. The music ended and Nathaniel watched as Mercy made her way to them.

  "Where did father go?"

  "Owen called for him."

  "He should not have interrupted the party," Mercy said though her brown eyes showed the same concern he was feeling. If their father had been called away from such an occasion it must be something dire. Their father was not only a land owner but also the pack alpha.

  Eldon emptied his glass and then handed it to Claire who dutifully went in search of another for him. She returned a moment later with a full glass of wine which Eldon took a swig of. Nathaniel hoped his brother would remain on the cusp of sobriety through the night especially since the dance was in his honor.

  "I saw you talking to Vivian. Did she save you a dance?" Mercy asked.

  "There were no dances left," Nathaniel said.

  "I do believe you are the only eligible bachelor who she has not danced with tonight. She knows fully well that her father will never let her marry anyone who is not-"

  "Titled," Eldon broke in though Nathaniel knew that Mercy had really meant werewolf. More than half the ballroom was filled with men and women who had no idea werewolves even existed.

  "Of course. Nor should she," Mercy said.

  "I am sure she is just being polite. It really is cruel to refuse a dance based on a man's breeding," Claire said. "One dance isn't a marriage proposal after all."

  "But dances can turn into marriage proposals, my dear. She really should try to limit her dances to men who your father would approve of," Eldon said.

  "There
is still time. Now that I am finally married there is no reason to rush matching Vivian," Claire said.

  "Our marriage was never in question," Eldon said.

  "Mercy, have you any more dances on your card?"

  "The next waltz I promised to Daniel," Mercy said. Her cheeks pinked. Daniel was third in line for an Earldom and so the most beautiful women took only casual notice of him. He was next in line for a pack alpha though his pack was one of the smaller ones in England. He was the man their father had planned to marry Mercy to until she hit womanhood and still had not turned into a werewolf.

  Nathaniel had spent long summers with both Claire and Daniel as his father attempted to create companionable friendships amongst the children he hoped to match. There had been no female selected for him. He would not inherit either the title or pack leadership and therefore was far less desirable amongst the aristocratic werewolf families.

  "He looks very dashing tonight," Claire said.

  "He is only dancing with me because we are friends," Mercy said.

  "Are there some men without titles you had hoped to dance with tonight?" Nathaniel asked using the euphemism his brother had. Unlike Eldon and him, Mercy had never become a werewolf even though both of their parents were. Doctor Alyes had tried to explain the science of it to their father but he had never really understood. Until Nathaniel had started breeding dogs he had not understood either. A white sire and a white bitch should produce white pups and usually they did. It wasn't until Gertie threw a gray pup in her second litter that Nathaniel truly understood what Doctor Alyes was trying to explain. Sometimes, nature messes up.

  Not being a werewolf complicated finding a husband for Mercy. Daniel needed sons who were werewolf and it would not do for him to marry a woman who was not a werewolf and might produce children who also were not. There was an abundance of werewolf females, even those who were aristocratic.

  In the non-were world Mercy was in some demand because of the family she came from but these days it seemed titled men preferred heiresses to good breeding and his sister was no heiress. Also, their father was loathe to match her to a family who did not know were-kind existed.

  "Master Eldon, your father is requesting your presence in the drawing room." Owen had snuck up on them again. Nathaniel wondered if he had been some kind of spy during his days in the military service. Surely, a man with such stealth could do better than life as a butler even of a house as prestigious as Wolstenholme.

  "Shall I come as well?" Claire asked.

  "Master Wolstenholme said that you are to stay and enjoy the party. He needs only a word with his son. Some kind of business dealing most likely," Owen said. Nathaniel knew he was lying but he couldn't have said how. Perhaps it was a minute change in his voice or a flexing of the muscle on his cheek. Whatever it was, Claire did not seem to notice.

  "Try not to be long. You should be celebrating as well. I am not the only one who married," Claire said.

  "I shall tag along as well," Nathaniel said as Eldon followed Owen.

  Owen looked at him for a long moment but did not voice any protest so Nathaniel followed them down the long hallway that led into the main house where another much shorter hallway would lead them into the drawing room.

  Chapter 2

  Sophronia fingered the lace that decorated the skirt of her gown. It was a comfort to trace their complex patterns and appreciate the contrast of the white lace against the pale blue silk. It kept her eyes busy and away from the two men in the room.

  Marquess Wolstenholme's shadow moved on her dress as his shoes squeaked against the floor. She knew he was pacing the room.

  At her side was her father. She hadn't been able to look at him in days. Not since he had learned the secret she had been so desperate to keep.

  The sound of the door opening forced her to look up. She had expected only one man to enter the room but instead there were three. One was Owen, the butler who she had met moments before. He looked like a gnarled tree but his voice was polite.

  Behind Owen were two men. One she recognized on sight. He was the father of the baby growing inside of her.

  The other looked somewhat familiar. She might have seen him at some social event but she had never spoken to him nor did she know his name.

  "You are sure that my son is the father?" Marquess Wolstenholme asked. He indicated the older of the two boys.

  Sophronia felt dizzy.

  "Is this the scoundrel?" her father demanded slapping her cheek when a moment had passed without her giving an answer.

  She could not hold back the tears as she nodded. She had not wanted any of this. She had never imagined that one ill advised choice could bring her to this place.

  "Bloody hell," Eldon said. His voice was barely above a whisper.

  "What do you intend to do about this? I cannot take her home to her mother in this condition without a husband. No chance of finding one of those now."

  She did not want to go back to America and especially not back to her mother.

  Her father was not wrong. Sophronia and her mother had never gotten along. Her mother was as old fashioned as they came. She had been horrified when New York gave free blacks the right to vote. She and her daughter had argued bitterly about Sophronia's abolitionist views.

  "Next you will want women to have the right to vote too, I suppose," her mother had said.

  "Why should they not?" Sophronia had spat back.

  That was when her mother had demanded that her father take her along when he went overseas on business. She didn't want her oldest daughter filling the minds of her younger children with such "unnatural nonsense."

  "I cannot marry her," Eldon said.

  "Like hell you cannot," her father said knocking over his chair as he stood up.

  "My son is married," Marquess Wolstenholme said reaching out a hand to warn her father of losing his temper. She could see he was on the verge of it and she doubted very much that the Marquess would tolerate his insolence.

  "So you are not just a scoundrel but a bedswerver as well?"

  "He has only been married a fortnight. Clearly, it has been longer than that since my son's indiscretion." The Marquess nodded to her and she glanced down to where her belly bulged slightly.

  Their coupling had been almost six months ago. Perhaps he hadn't even been engaged then. She had paid no mind to the first or even the second missed blood. It wasn't until the third that she started to wonder if all was well and it was not until her baby had kicked within her for the first time that she had understood her difficulty. Of course she had continued to hide it from her father until it was impossible to do so. It had taken him much longer than it would have her mother to see the problem she was facing but then he had raged at her until she had no choice but to reveal the name of the father.

  "I suppose my only recourse is to challenge you to a duel," her father shouted at Eldon. "It will serve me not at all, but either I will be dead and not have to return to my wife in shame, or I will have avenged the disgrace of my daughter, which will at least satisfy me."

  "I am sure another solution can be reached," Marquess Wolstenholme said.

  "I cannot imagine a choice other than the marriage or the death of your son," her father growled.

  "Please, sit back down. I will ask for some refreshment to be brought to you. I must speak with my sons in private."

  "Do what you must. I doubt it can change anything now," her father said but he did right his chair and sit at her side.

  She brought her fingers and eyes back to the lace as she heard the shoes of the men retreat and the closing of the door.

  Nathaniel's father closed the door to the study. He had walked calmly down the halls and anyone who did not know him as well as Nathaniel might really have thought he had only been in a business meeting but the stink of anger wafted off him and it made the hair on Nathaniel's neck stand on end. Wolves were always sensitive to the anger of their alpha even when he was not also their father.

  "Did
you wet your cock in that Drury Lane vestal?" his father growled.

  "It seems that I might have," Eldon said bringing his fingers up to rub his temple.

  "You do not remember? Do you remember if there was blood when you bedded her? Can you recall that much at least?"

  "I cannot," Eldon admitted.

  "So there is a chance the child could be yours?"

  "I suppose there is. Of course, it could belong to another just as well," Eldon said.

  "You have certainly created a bloody mess for me."

  "Can we just give her some money? The child can be placed in a home and the chit can return to her mother without anyone being the wiser. You can tell from the accent that they are American. I am sure her father can find a reason to extend their journey that will satisfy her mother. Or perhaps you should even let him duel me. So long as the bullets are not silver there is little chance of harm to me. A gut shot will heal in due time and I doubt he has the skill to get a bullet in my skull."

  "You are missing the point, Eldon. If there is any chance at all that the baby inside that girl could be yours then there is a chance it could grow up to be a werewolf. Do you not see?"

  "I cannot marry her so I do not know what you expect me to do."

  "No, you cannot marry her, but your brother can."

  "Me?" Nathaniel felt a chill run up his back. He had only met the girl and it was impossible to know whether the baby inside her was even his brother's let alone a werechild.

  "Do you have any idea how many werewolves we lost in the Napoleonic Wars? Our pack lost more than half of our men. That meant that many of our women married non-were men and so a large number of their children were born non-were. When I was a boy our pack was three times the size it is today. When Owen was a boy it was five times larger. We are dwindling. We cannot let a potential werechild be lost to us."

  "Could we set her up in a small cottage and pay to keep her. Many of the other peers have mistresses."

  "I will not let my son be the first to besmirch the good name of Wolstenholme. We have been able to keep out heads held proudly since the Plantagenets granted us this land hundreds of years ago. You want to destroy all that over one night of poor judgment?"