A Witch in Time

on Barber Street.”
“Barber Street?”
Whittleby coughed delicately. “Yes, Barber Street. You had it rented for Miss Boudreaux, but it’s been three months since she … she left the premises.”
Ah, Anaïs. His mistress—former mistress, that is. The ballerina had been hysterical, threatening to leave him when he stopped visiting and paying attention to her. He didn’t really know why she was so vexed, not when he allowed her to stay in the house and maintained her allowance even though he had no need of her amorous attention. One would think she’d be grateful to have a patron who left her alone most of the time. French women were so temperamental. Last he’d heard, she’d taken up with a viscount from Yorkshire. “So, what about it?”
“The owner would like to know if you plan to … continue with the rental contract.”
“I see. Well—”
The sound of the door crashing against the wall as it opened and a delighted squeal stopped Reed short. “What the—”
“Uncle Reed, Uncle Reed!” a high-pitched voice cried, as a small blur dashed into the room.
Despite the interruption, Reed couldn’t hold back the small smile that was forming on his lips. William Lowell James Griffiths charged into his uncle’s office with the exuberance that only five-year-old children seemed to possess. He darted past Whittleby, sped around the large oak desk taller than him, and ran straight into his uncle’s legs.
“Hello, little pup.” He got to his feet and hoisted William into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
William’s blue eyes twinkled as he giggled. “Mama and I wanted to surprise you.”
“Is that so?”
“William? William!” Another figure—this one older, taller, and female—came rushing into the room. “I told you to wait for me so Neville could announce us.”
For a moment, Reed felt his heart stop. Eleanor was the spitting image of their mother with her reddish blonde locks, petite frame, and bright blue eyes. They looked so much alike it made his chest constrict. Maybe that was one of the reasons he’d seen less and less of her over the past months. He knew it was unfair, but he just didn’t want to be reminded of the tragedy of their parents’ sudden death.
Eleanor Amanda Griffiths, Countess of Winford walked in, stopping halfway when she saw William in his uncle’s arms. “Apologies for the interruption,” she nodded to Whittleby, “my son can be a handful.”
“Good morning, my lady.” Whittleby shot to his feet. “And no apologies needed.”
“Still, we interrupted your chat.” She walked over to Reed and then reached out for William. The young boy seemed reluctant, but when his mother raised a brow, he scrambled into her arms. “Please, go on and continue your discussion. You can pretend we’re not here.”
Whittleby’s eyes bulged, and he sent a pleading look to Reed. Of course, matters such as mistresses were not discussed before delicate ladies, so he decided to spare the other man. “Actually, Whittleby was just about to leave. But, to answer your last question, no I will not be continuing that contract.”
Whittleby looked relieved as he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. “I’ll take care of that matter then, Your Grace.” He bowed and then looked to Eleanor and William. “My lady. Lord William.” After a deep nod, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Reed turned to his sister. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?”
Eleanor looked at him innocently. “What, I can’t miss my only brother and want to see him?”
That comment hit its mark and he winced inwardly. “You know you’re always welcome to stop by.”
William began to squirm. “Mama, can I please go and play?”
She sighed and set him to his feet. “Do you promise to behave?”
His little head bobbed up and down. “Yes, Mama.”
“All right, off you go.” She had barely finished the sentence when he broke free of her grasp and scampered toward the door. “And stay in the house!” she called after him. With a shake of her head, she turned back to Reed. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine.” That was his standard answer whenever Eleanor asked him how he was. What else could he say?
“I would ask you if inheriting the dukedom has made you any busier, but then you’ve always been obsessed with work.”
He tried not to let her tone irritate him. “I have seven estates and half a dozen businesses in England, plus more abroad to oversee and run.”
“And I know that you were able to expand the family estates and holdings because you’ve worked nonstop for the last ten years,” she said. “And now … with mother and father gone—”
“My responsibilities have tripled in the last six months.” He didn’t want to hear the words. Yes, he knew mother and father were gone, but hearing it out loud was another thing. “And soon I’ll be Alpha of London.” The ceremony would be held sometime in the next two weeks, once the Lycan High Council finished arrangements for their trip to London.
“But surely you can find some time to relax? Enjoy the season?”
“Surely you’re joking,” Reed said in an incredulous tone. “Why would I want to be out now, of all times? All of London’s mamas will be looking at me like some prized stallion to breed with their debutant daughters.”
“Reed Townsend!” Eleanor looked like she wanted to faint.
“Oh, come on now, Ellie,” he said, using the childhood nickname he had for her. “You’re a married woman.”
“You’re so full of yourself, just because you’re young and handsome.” She placed her hands on her hips. “If only those mamas and their daughters knew what a terrible husband you’d be, only living for work and business.”
“Well, they don’t want me for my winning personality, that’s for sure.” While it might seem egotistical, he was no fool. Reed knew he was a catch, not only because of his title but also for his wealth. The fact that he wasn’t old and decrepit was a small plus, but he knew many women would do anything for a duchess’s