A Witch in Time

coronet. Like Joanna.
His wolf growled at the mention of the name. Indeed, he’d spent the last ten years drowning himself in work just so he didn’t have to think of her.
“Reed?” Eleanor’s brows were furrowed together. “Are you all right?”
His answer was automatic. “Like I said, I’m fine. Did you and William want to have lunch here with me? You know I can always ask Neville to tell the kitchen to prepare your favorites.”
“That would be lovely, thank you, Reed. But there was something I needed to discuss with you.”
“Of course.” He motioned for her to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk, then sat in his own leather seat. “What is it?”
“It’s about our cousin, Bridget. Uncle Alec’s daughter.”
“Yes, I remember her.” Bridget MacDonald was the daughter of their mother’s cousin and Beta. No, he corrected himself. Technically, Alec MacDonald was now Alpha of Caelkirk, after Annabelle Townsend passed away.
While both entailment of the earldom and Alpha title of Caelkirk allowed the eldest child—regardless of sex—to inherit, it also limited it to the members of the clan. So, while Annabelle was Alpha, when she died, the only way Reed or Eleanor could inherit the Alpha role and title was to renounce their status in the London clan. Reed was already to be Alpha of London and Eleanor didn’t want to give up her life in England, so they were happy to let their Uncle Alec inherit both titles. Indeed, as Annabelle’s Beta while she lived in London, Alec MacDonald had been running the clan for the last thirty years anyway. He didn’t have any sons, so both titles would eventually be passed on to Bridget.
Reed thought back to when he last saw her. “She’s what … fourteen? Fifteen?”
“Actually, she just turned twenty.” Eleanor’s lips pursed together. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember?”
She took a long, drawn-out breath. “Uncle Alec wrote a month ago and asked that we take her in and sponsor her for the season. I asked you if it was all right since it had been six months since Mother and Father passed away.”
He quirked a brow. “And I said yes?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, I see.” Glancing at the half-written letter sitting on his desk, he realized that he had meant to continue that as soon as Whittleby left. The letter was for one of his lawyers in—
“Reed, are you listening to me?” Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest.
“What?” He shrugged. “If I said yes, then of course you should do it.”
“Excellent.” She clasped her hands together. “Grandmama and I will be meeting her and determining which balls and events we should take her to. You’ll have to come to the major ones—”
“Me?” He asked in an incredulous tone. “Why do I have to go to balls with her?”
“She needs every bit of support behind her,” Eleanor reasoned. “It’s not that simple to launch her into society. She’s not exactly … I mean, you know … she’s …”
“Scottish?” Reed finished. “She’ll also be a countess in her own right and an heiress. Surely between you and Grandmama, she’ll be a smashing success in London.”
“But she’s not English, which means she’ll most likely attract fortune hunters. But that’s not the only thing.” Eleanor let out a sigh. “Uncle Alec says she’s already met most of the eligible bachelors in Scotland, and none of them are her True Mate.”
“And how the devil is she supposed to know him?”
“You know how,” Eleanor said in a serious tone.
He scoffed. “Right.” The supposed legend that Lycans from his mother’s clan knew their True Mates at first sight. “What nonsense—” He stopped when Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him.
“You know it’s not nonsense.”
“I wasn’t going to call it anything,” he said defensively. “Ellie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … that is … I know you’re very happy with Winford and I’m glad for you both.”
Since Reed had never met his supposed True Mate before and even after Joanna, they had all thought that maybe the legend only applied to the Lycans who were pure Scottish. However, much to their surprise, Eleanor had recognized Jeremy Griffiths, Earl of Winford, as her True Mate.
Jeremy was fifteen years older than Eleanor and was just coming back from the war with Napoleon. Though he was part of the London clan, he hadn’t been around since before the war began, so he’d decided to pay his respects to the Alpha. It was at her coming out ball that Eleanor had spied Winford and recognized him as her True Mate. Their mother had been excited, and though the then-duke of Huntington had his reservations, he couldn’t deny his daughter or their True Mate pairing. Of course, they were married after an appropriate engagement period, and his nephew, William, arrived nine months to the day of their wedding. A year later, the clan’s Beta had passed away and Winford was selected to be Beta, a position he still held today.
“Don’t tell me you still don’t believe, Reed,” Eleanor said. “Maybe you just haven’t met—”
“It’s not that I don’t believe.” That was not quite a lie, but nor was it the truth. But how to explain to her? “I think … maybe it’s not everyone in our family that recognizes their True Mate right away. I mean, Grandfather and his father never did.” In fact, according to their records, the only Alpha to have ever met his True Mate had been Lowell Townsend. “Maybe because it’s only on mother’s side of the family that only half the people on our side will have it.”
“You mean, because I inherited it, maybe you didn’t?” she asked skeptically.
“Perhaps.” Definitely. That was it. Eleanor had the right idea.
“But … it’s just …” A sigh escaped her. “When you meet your mate and you get this feeling …” She blushed and clamped her mouth shut, her lashes lowering. Like their mother, Eleanor never talked about what it was like when she first met her True Mate, like it was some damned secret.
He mentally shook his