Chapter Preview: A Witch in Time

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A Witch in Time

 

Prologue

1810
London, England

 

Reed William Atherton Townsend, Marquess of Wakefield, glanced around at the other dinner guests, trying to stifle the yawn that desperately wanted to escape his mouth. It certainly wouldn’t be proper for anyone to show boredom at such an affair, more so for him, being the future Duke of Huntington and Alpha of London.

His inner wolf too, was bored, and longed to be released from this stuffy, dinner party. We’ll be out of here soon, he assured his animal. I’m as eager as you are to be back home.

The wolf snorted at him, as if in disagreement. Hmm. He would think it would be even more anxious to get back home considering—

“I do hope Lady Wakefield feels better soon, my lord.” Lady Louisa Abernathy interrupted, peering up with her beady little eyes as she sat next to him.

“Your lovely wife is always a welcome sight at these affairs,” her husband, Lord Horace Abernathy, Earl of Chilton, added. “She is very much missed.”

“I agree,” Reed concurred. He especially missed his wife tonight, not only was she the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eye on, but she had a vivacious nature that made these droll dinners much livelier. He knew the moment he saw Lady Joanna Aspen that he would marry her. He had been awestruck when he gazed at her from across the room. Golden blonde hair, the greenest eyes he’d ever seen, pretty plump lips made for kissing.

It was a boon, of course, that she was also a Lycan and had just come out for her first Season. She and her mother were visiting his mother, the Duchess of Huntington, hoping to have her favor to help in her debut to society. Her father was the Viscount of Clearwater, but he also happened to be one of the Lycans under the Duke of Huntington’s protection.

As it turned out, Joanna didn’t even need any help wither debut; Reed spent weeks courting her and their engagement was announced even before the Season ended.

“Yes, her absence tonight is a disappointment. To everyone.” His mother, the Duchess of Huntington, caught his eye as she took a sip of her wine. He didn’t miss the slight smile that made the corner of her lips curl up.

He smiled at his mother knowingly. Before the dinner party began, he had told his parents the reason why Joanna was absent tonight: she was resting in bed because she was currently carrying his future heir. To say they had been thrilled was an understatement, and for what seemed like the first time since Reed announced his engagement two years ago, the Duke and Duchess of Huntington seemed genuinely happy about their son’s marriage.

When Joanna begged off for the evening, citing fatigue, he didn’t protest. Seeing as such topics were not discussed in public, they refrained from telling their guests the real reason the Marchioness of Wakefield was absent tonight.

“I hope you all enjoyed dinner,” the Duke of Huntington said once the footmen cleared the dessert plates. “How about we retire to the library for coffee and tea, and perhaps something stronger for the gentlemen?”

Everyone heartily agreed, and followed suit as the Duke and Duchess stood up. However, before they could all leave the dining room, Reed stopped his father and mother with a hand on each of their arms.

“Father, mother,” he began. “I hate to leave so early, but I should check on my wife.” He looked at the other dinner guests. “My sincerest apologies, everyone.” Normally, these after-dinner refreshments went on and on until the late evening, and Reed couldn’t stand being away from Joanna, especially with her carrying his pup and heir.

Lowell Townsend gave his son a curt nod and turned to the half dozen guests. “Please, do go  on ahead to library. The Duchess and I will join you shortly.”

Soon, the dining room was empty, as even the footmen had discreetly left, probably at the orders of their observant and efficient butler, Neville.

Now that they had some privacy, it was his mother who spoke first. “What’s bothering you, my wee one?”

Though two decades living in England had all but eradicated his mother’s Scottish brogue, Annabelle Townsend used it when they were alone. The soft burr reminded him of his childhood, when she would sing to him or soothe him in her native tongue.

His father laughed. “Our son hasn’t been ‘wee’ for a while.” He winked at his son. “Nothing about him is ‘wee’.” Reed has sprouted like a weed when he was fifteen, towering even over his own father by half a foot. Though he got his dark hair and ebony eyes from Lowell, his physical stature obviously came from his mother’s side of his family. He’d met his Scottish uncles and cousins a few times, and compared to them, he was, indeed, ‘wee’. His grandmother had bemoaned his size, saying it was unfashionable for a gentleman to be of such height and width.

“He will always be my baby, not matter how old he is,” Annabelle declared. “Now, tell your mother what’s wrong.”

 “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.” He let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Ah, you’re concerned about Joanna and your pup.” Lowell patted his shoulder. “Absolutely understandable, my boy. When your mother was carrying you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.”

“He kept hovering around me. All the time.” Annabelle rolled her eyes at her husband. “Despite the fact that I was practically indestructible, as I kept telling him.”

Females who were pregnant by their True Mates could not be harmed, that was a known fact. Reed’s mood sank, and it must have been written all over his face.

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” He pursed his lips together. Although Joanna was a Lycan and would be carrying his pup, they were not True Mates. There was always that feeling that his parents were disappointed he didn’t marry the one who was supposedly the other half of his soul. But to Reed, that never really mattered. He was in love with Joanna from the moment he laid eyes on her.

Annabelle looked despondent. “Reed, I’ve always treated Joanna like my own daughter, you know that,” she insisted. And Reed knew his mother tried hard, she really did.

“And so what if you’re not True Mates?” his father added. He put an arm around his wife. “What happened to your mother and I have was rare. I mean, who ever heard about a Lycan who could immediately tell who her True Mate was?”

She smirked at him. “Ah, after all these years, you still don’t believe me, mo ghràdh?”

Reed had heard the story a million times: that the Lycans of the Caelkirk clan knew their True Mates upon meeting them. It had caused quite a stir when Annabelle MacDonald, Alpha of Caelkirk, had met Lowell Townsend at a gathering of the Alphas of Europe and declared him her True Mate. They fell in love instantly, and married only days after knowing each other. Growing up, he asked his mother what it was like, to know one’s True Mate. She would only smile at him knowingly, saying, “Oh, you’ll know a bhobain,you’ll know.”

Perhaps if she had bloody told him how, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with Joanna so quickly. But, blinded by her beauty, his feelings had run away. When his mother had asked him if he felt ‘it’ upon first laying eyes on Joanna and he had only stared at her blankly and asked what ‘it’ was, the disappointment on her face had been obvious.

Though his father wasn’t ecstatic about the news, being English he was at least glad he was marrying a member of the ton and another Lycan, which should at least guaranteed him a suitable heir to both the Dukedom and the Alpha title.

As his father and mother continued to stare at each other with love and admiration, he cleared his throat. “In any case, I’m loathe to disturb her sleep if I were to come home at dawn.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness, my boy.” Lowell patted him on the back. “And just so you know, son, I’m happy for you. Being a father is one the best privileges I’ve had in my life.”

Reed smiled at his normally stuffy father, whose eyes were shining with tears. His mother, on the other hand, placed a hand over his, her expression warm.

“I know we said we thought you were too young to marry at twenty-one,” Annabelle squeezed his hand. “But I’m glad you don’t have to wait longer to hold your pup in your arms.”

“I should warn you, it will be difficult for you and your wolf,” his father warned. “It won’t want to be away from her. Mine would growl at me if I stayed away from her too long.”

Huh. Reed thought that was strange. His wolf, at the most, was lukewarm toward Joanna, which he thought was normal, as that’s what it felt for most people and Lycans around him, save for his parents and his sister. 

“You’ll do well,” Annabelle assured him. “I know it.”

“Thank you, mother.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “If she’s up for it, I’ll have Joanna invite you over for tea.”

Her smile was genuinely warm. “That would be lovely.”

“Grandmama will be invited as well.”

His mother winced, though to her credit, not as severely as she used to. According to his father, the relationship between the current and Dowager Duchess of Huntington had mellowed over the years. If that was the case, Reed wasn’t sure he wanted to have seen what it was like in the beginning, especially after his father had broken off his engagement to the Belgian Alpha’s daughter when he met Annabelle. Miranda Townsend was probably not happy, but she didn’t have a choice. In Lycan society, True Mate pairings trumped any other type of arrangement, sometimes even marriage. And, knowing that True Mates conceived upon their first coupling, he wouldn’t be shocked if that was the reason his father had procured a special license to marry his mother right away.

“Try to be surprised when Joanna announces her condition, Mother,” Reed said. “You know Grandmama will be cross at me if she found out you knew first. Don’t vex her, please? Or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I’ll try,” But the expression on his mother’s face said, not very hard.

“Shall I bid Ellie goodbye?” His younger sister, Eleanor, was only fourteen years old, and was probably upstairs in her bedroom. Growing up, he always doted on her, though since his marriage, he hadn’t spent as much time with Eleanor as they used to.

“She should already be fast asleep,” Annabelle said. “But, I’ll let her know you asked after her.”

He nodded goodbye to them, and pivoted on his heel, then walked down the long hallway of Hunter House, his parents’ London mansion. Neville was already by the door and no doubt, the trusty butler had probably informed his driver that he wanted to go home early.

“Good night, Neville,” he greeted as he passed the other man.

Dressed impeccably, salt-and-pepper hair combed back neatly, and his upper body stiff as a board, the older man gave him a short nod before opening the door. “Good night, my lord.”

He headed directly to his coach, and soon was on his way home. As a wedding present, his father had presented them with the lovely little townhouse on Cowley Street. Joanne was disappointed at the size and location, thinking that it was unfair of his parents to give them such a small place, especially compared to their sprawling mansion. He had to explain to her that Hunter House was the home of the Duke of Huntington, a title which Reed would not—and hoped not to—inherit for a long while, seeing as his father was still young and healthy.

It was really the only time he’d argued with her, as he thought she was being ungrateful. She apologized quickly, and that was that. Indeed he counted himself lucky, as a love match was rare for someone of their standing. And now, he would secure his legacy with an heir, and maybe a spare if he was lucky.

His inner wolf let out a dissatisfied sound.

What the devil was wrong with it?

The coach stopping interrupted his thoughts. His driver opened the door and he quickly alighted, eager to be inside and slip into bed with his wife. His pacing was rather fast, so he did wait a few seconds for the door to open, but found himself frowning when it stayed shut despite having reached it. Usually, the butler would have opened it by now.

That damned Foxworth. Joanna had insisted on taking on her family’s under-butler to run their own house, but Reed never liked him. Not only was he too young and inexperienced, but he had an air impertinence Reed never cared for.

Faced with the choice of standing outside the whole night or the indignity of having to knock at his own door, he chose the latter.

His keen ears picked up footsteps, followed by the sound of the key slipping into the lock. “What the bloody hell—my lord!” Wide brown eyes stared up at him, and Foxworth’s face was as pale as a sheet. “W-w-what are you … I mean—” He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. ”Good evening, my lord. Apologies, we—I was not expecting you home so early.”

His eyes narrowed Foxworth, and his sensitive nose picked up the scent of alcohol from his breath. Hopefully the butler had his own bottle stashed away, and hadn’t been dipping into the decanter of fine Scottish whiskey in the study. “I was feeling rather weary after a long day.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Foxworth?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Do you think I could come into my own home?” He raised a brow at the butler, who was standing in the doorway, blocking his way.

If it was possible, Forworth got even paler. “Uh, of course, my lord.”

As the butler stepped aside, he resolved to talk to Joanna tomorrow about finding a new butler. It really wan’t proper—

His wolf’s hackles raised, and Reed instantly went on alert. His body went stiff, and his animal’s ears perked up. There was unusual movement coming from the second floor—the bedroom. Joanna.

He raced up the stairs, using his supernatural speed to get to the bedroom in no time. Still, it seemed like forever and his mind raced with possibilities. A burglar who thought the house would be empty. Or maybe someone who saw him leave alone for the evening, out to target his vulnerable wife.

The door made a thunderous thud as is hit the wall when he threw it open. The bedroom was dark, but his Lycan eyes could see everything clearly. And this was not what he expected.

A shriek pierced the air, followed by a large thud as a very male—very naked—body hit the floor.  “I specifically said I did not want to be disturbed—” Joanna’s eyes went wide as she yanked the sheet over her naked breasts. “Reed?”

Anger vibrated through him and he turned his sights on the figure getting up from the floor. He stalked toward the man, his hands reaching out for his throat. His wolf roared, urging him on and he let out a growl.

“No!” Joanne leapt from the bed, sheet around her naked body, and stepped between the two men. “Reed, be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” he choked out. The muscles under his skin began to contract and ripple as his wolf begged to be let out.

Joanna’s eyes bulged. “He’s … he’s not …”

 A quick sniff in the air told him what she was trying to say. Human. Using every ounce of his control, he tamped his wolf’s instincts down. Thank goodness he didn’t shift into his wolf form or their secret would be revealed.

Focusing his eyes, he recognized the other man. “Sherrington?”

Lord Jeremy Sherrington nodded as he swallowed audibly. “Wakefield,” he mumbled. “I … I must say this is awkward.”

That word didn’t even begin to describe the situation.

Sherrington scratched his head. “I suppose you’d like to call me out.”

“Call you out?”

“Pistols? At dawn?”

He glanced at his wife. His cheating, harlot of a wife. Duel for her? Sherrington had to be kidding. “No, I don’t suppose I will.” He pivoted on his heel, his rage freezing over the white hot sting of betrayal, and he walked out of the door.

“Reed? Reed!”

He was halfway down the hallway when he heard the footsteps behind him.

“Reed, please!” Joanna cried, her claw-like fingers digging into his arm. “It’s not what you think—”

“It’s not what I think?” He stopped, then turned to face her. “Then explain to me what I saw in there.”

“It’s just … this is …” Her face went scarlet and she blew out a breath. “He was just a distraction, to pass the time.”

“A distraction? From what?”

“Until I became Duchess and Lupa!” she spat. “But with my luck, I’ll be old and fat before I get to be called ‘your grace’.”

Dear God, did she even know she was saying? What it would mean for her to gain either title? She wanted his parents … “Get out.”

Joanne blinked. “Reed?”

“I’m going to take a ride. One hour. By that time, I want you out of this house.”

She sucked in a breath as her eyes filled with tears. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious. One hour. If I see you, then I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Stamping her foot like a child, she let out a cry. “B-b-ut you can’t! Think of the scandal—”

“You should have thought of the scandal before you jumped into bed with Sherrington.” Did she really think he would just stay quiet to avoid avoid gossip? She was a fool, then.

No, he was the fool. For being so blind in love and not seeing what was obvious. And what his wolf was trying to tell him. His gaze zeroed in on her belly. “Is it even mine?”

She bit her lip, her hand going to her stomach. “I … I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He knew. Rather, his wolf knew. That’s why it didn’t feel protective toward Joanne. And why, since she announced her pregnancy, it seemed even more wary of her. “For God’s sake Joanne, Sherrington is human! What were you going to do when the child’s wolf didn’t manifest?”

“I … I didn’t think …”

“You’re right. You didn’t think.” Ice froze the blood in his veins as he pried her fingers off. “One hour. Not a second more.” Without another thought or backward glance, he walked away from her.

---

The tentative knock on the door didn’t break Reed’s concentration as he stared at the column of figures on the ledger he was working on. For the last two weeks, he’d been busy with estate affairs. He didn’t really care much about it while he was growing up, but he figured now was a good time to learn. His father hadn’t objected when he asked for more responsibilities.

Continuing to ignore the next knocks, he stared at the neat numbers on the page, trying to make sense of them.

“Ahem.”

He peered up at the sound of the feminine cough. “Hello, Mother.”

The Duchess of Huntington stood at the doorway of his study, a tight smile on her face. “How are you, Reed?”

“I’m fine.” He turned back to the ledgers, but they made as much sense now as they did an hour ago, when he began. Feeling his mother’s eyes on him, he looked at her again. “Is there anything else?”

She walked over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. It took all his strength not to flinch. “You know, you can always talk to me or your father about anything. We are here for you.”

Of course they knew what happened. He didn’t exactly have a choice. As he told Joanne, he went out for a ride and came back an hour later. She was gone, and he slept on the sofa in his study. In the morning, he told Foxworth to pack his things, as he did the rest of the staff because obviously, they all knew what had been going on and had some part in covering up their mistress’s affair. It was sometime late evening when his mother and father arrived, perhaps wondering why the invitation to tea never came and discovered Reed alone in the house, finishing the last bottle of spirits in his liquor cabinet.

He told them everything. They were shocked of course, and much to their credit, didn’t tell him to go after Joanne, to avoid scandal. In fact, they were quite supportive of him, tiptoeing around the subject for the last two weeks. And as for Joanne, he didn’t really care where she was. She could go to the devil.

He didn’t answer his mother, but instead stood up and walked over to the window, where he had a clear view of the street. “Did you come here to say ‘I told you so’? To gloat that you were right about her?” he said with a contemptuous sneer.

“Reed William Atherton Townsend, I am your mother and you will not speak to me that way!”

This time he did wince and turned to her, feeling like he was seven years old again and had just broken her favorite tea pot. “Forgive me, Mother.”

 Her eyes softened. “Always, a bhobain.”

My darling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had called her that term of endearment. He was probably a young boy, scared of the dark, unable to sleep until she told him stories about knights and kings who vanquished monsters and dragons.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she continued. “But you must decide what to do. The Ton will start to talk. In fact, there have been a few unsavory tales spinning the rumor mill.”

“And do you care?”

She smirked. “Of course not.” And why should she? Annabelle Townsend didn’t give one whit to what the ton thought of her, a Scottish countess who had ensnared one of the most eligible bachelors in England. “But, your father and grandmother …”

Well, there lay the problem. His very English father and grandmother. The scandal would ruin the family, plus there was Eleanor to think of. Sure, she was a Duke’s daughter, and it would be a few more years until she came out, but the stories would be mucked up by the time her first Season came about. It would definitely affect her chances of making a good match.

 But what could he do? He could not be in the same room, much less look at that traitorous viper, not after what she did and said. It was obvious now, all she was after was the Duchess’s coronet and the honor of being called his Lupa. Did she even love him truly?

“Have you heard from Lord and Lady Clearwater?”

“No.” He could only guess that their daughter’s actions had shamed them into staying away from him. At least Joanne had the decency to tell her parents the truth, not some convoluted version where he was the villain.

“You can’t hide forever.” She looked distastefully at the pillow and blanket on the sofa. “Or live in your study for the rest of your life.”

He could not bring himself to sleep in their bed again. Indeed, he hadn’t even entered the bedroom since that night. “If I had a choice, I would divorce her.” His mother didn’t react. “But, I can’t, not without bringing scandal to the family name.”

“But you can’t raise a child that’s not your own. Especially not a human child who could never be Alpha.”

And that was the conundrum. Damned Joanne. What was she thinking? If they were human, he could pass of any child as his own. But his family had held the Alpha position longer than they had the Dukedom. He would either have to sire another Lycan child with Joanne or pass it to another family. The thought of even touching that vile bitch again made him want to retch.

“So, we are at an impasse,” he said glumly. Maybe he’d be lucky and Eleanor would find a Lycan husband and have a son who could inherit the Alpha title, if not the Dukedom.

“Excuse me, my lord,” said the footman, Mercer, who was standing by the door. After he had dismissed Joanne’s servants, his parents had sent over some of their own staff for the time being. “You have a visitor. A Mr. Archibald Barrow.”

Reed frowned. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“He says it’s an urgent matter and he must talk to you immediately. I can tell him you’re indisposed and perhaps to call on you another time?”

He shrugged. It wasn’t like he was getting any work done today. “Let him in.”

A few moments later, Mercer escorted an older man with pure white hair carrying a leather letter case into the study. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord.” His voice was scratchy and hoarse. “My lady,” he said with a nod to Annabelle.

“My footman said it was an urgent matter. What is it?”

“Er, yes.” He took out a sheaf of papers from his letter case. “My name is Archibald Barrow, and I work as a solicitor for the West-Moreland Shipping Company. They’ve tasked me … I mean, they … my job is …”

“Just spit it out man,” he barked. This man was trying his patience.

Barrow’s spine went stiff as a board. “Your lordship. I regret to inform you that your wife, Lady Joanna Townsend, Marchioness of Wakefield was aboard the Voyager bound for the Caribbean when it sank a few days ago.”

Annabelle’s gasp was audible. “S-s-sank?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“It’s ‘your grace’,” Reed snapped.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s a duchess.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “You are to address her as ‘your grace’.”

Barrow’s eyebrow shot up and he looked like he wanted to say something, but refrained himself. “Er, your grace. I mean, yes. The ship encountered terrible weather two days after they set sail from England.”

“And you’re certain she was on it?” Annabelle asked, her voice frantic.

“Her name was on the manifest, as was, er, her companion in the first class cabin where she was staying.”

“Companion?” his mother echoed.

“A Lord Sherrington,” he said. “Before I came here, I spoke with his father, the Marquess of Arden, and he confirmed that his son, had indeed, set sail for the islands.”

“Dear God.” Annabelle cleared her throat. “Mr. Barrow, I trust that all this information is kept confidential?”

“Of course, your grace,” he said.

“Even so, my husband, The Duke of Huntington, will have his solicitor call on you tomorrow morning.”

“As you wish, your grace.”

“You may go now.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Barrow bowed low, then turned to leave the study. She turned to Reed. “A bhobain.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Say something,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Anything.”

Reed stared ahead, at the rich, dark paneling that covered the walls of his study. He should have felt grief at the news that his wife was dead. Or, if he were the type of man, expressed relief that there would be no scandal to mar their name. But right now, he felt …. nothing.

Turning on his heel, he walked back to his large, oak desk and sat down on the leather chair. Then, proceeded to tally the figures he had left behind earlier.

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