A Witch in Time

he is Alpha, so you must know who he is.”
“You’re Reed Townsend, Duke of Huntington,” the man finished.
Eleanor looked at him meaningfully, waiting to make an introduction. He cleared his throat. “This is my sister, Lady Eleanor Griffiths, Countess of Winford, and her son, Lord William Griffiths.” He assessed the other man—quite tall, maybe as tall as his Scottish cousins, though he looked more like a tanned pirate with his long blond hair tied back and his buckskin pants, boots, and loose white shirt. He wore neither hat nor waistcoat. What the devil was he doing with two young women?
“You’re probably wondering who we are,” the man said.
Definitely not a gentleman, with those manners. But then again, they were Americans. Perhaps it was their first time in a civilized place like London. “Since you seem to already know who I am, I suppose you may introduce yourselves.”
The young woman in gold opened her mouth but shut it when the man gave her a meaningful look, then turned back to him. “My lord—I mean, Your Grace,” he began. “My name is Cross Alexander Jonasson of the New York clan. I am an … envoy sent by the Alpha of New York City to meet with you and celebrate your ascension to Alpha.”
“If you’re an envoy, then why was I not informed beforehand?” There was something not quite right about Mr. Jonasson’s story. “Our clans have no formal relations. There should have been a missive from your Alpha, and then a request for an introduction and meeting, which I would have had to approve with a letter of my own.”
“We did send a letter, Your Grace,” he said. “Did it not reach you?”
“Mail from the colonies gets lost all the time,” Eleanor said. “Plus, with so much going on … Did you address it to the right place?”
Mr. Jonasson shook his head. “I’m not sure, my lady. I mean, the Alpha just sent us …” He turned to his companions. “Forgive me for failing to introduce you to my companions. This”—he nodded to the woman in gold—“is Miss Julianna Anderson, daughter of our Alpha. And …” He hesitated for a moment. “Her cousin, Miss Elise Henney.”
Both women gawked at him silently, not greeting him or even giving a curtsey. Were all Americans raised like wild animals?
“Reed.” Eleanor placed a hand on his arm. “I think we should … invite our guests inside.”
He knew exactly what his sister was saying, of course—get these strangely-dressed people inside the house before some nosy neighbor sees them and sent all of the ton’s tongues wagging.
“Right. Let’s sort this out inside.” He led them to the front door which was now being held open by the faithful Neville. A Lycan himself, the normal unflappable butler frowned and his nostrils flared when his gaze landed on the newcomers.
“It’s all right, Neville,” he said in a low voice. “Would you please prepare some refreshments for our … guests?”
The butler harrumphed, but said, “Of course, my lord.”
“William.” Eleanor put her son down. “Are you hurt?”
“No, Mama.” William’s voice was much quieter than it usually was. His little face scrunched up into a serious expression. “I’m fine.”
Eleanor smirked at Reed. “My, that sounds awfully familiar. I wonder where he learned that?”
With all the excitement, Reed nearly forgot about his nephew. He bent down to William’s level and then checked him over. He breathed a sigh of relief. Aside from his torn trousers, the boy looked unhurt. “William, you must never do that again, understand me?”
He nodded. “Yes, Uncle Reed.”
“Excellent.” He smiled at him and then ruffled his hair affectionately. “Now, why don’t you go with Neville and he’ll bring you a snack? Then you can go to the playroom.”
His little head bobbed up and down, then walked toward Neville and tugged at his coattails. “Do you have some of those butter biscuits, Neville?”
“I believe Cook might have some hidden away somewhere, Lord William,” Neville said. “Let’s ask her, shall we?”
As his nephew followed the butler down the hall, Reed walked to his office, trying not to look back, despite his wolf’s desperate desire to look at Elise and make sure she was still following. Enough, he said. It was undignified enough that he had to lead them into his own home like some servant, but he wasn’t going to give in to his animal’s whims. Because surely, this strange woman, this American, couldn’t possibly be his True Mate. He was more convinced of it now. Maybe her reaction to him was because she was foreign.
“I hope Neville is brewing some strong tea.” Eleanor sighed. “This excitement is too much.” She turned to Elise. “Miss Henney, please forgive me for not thanking you right away for saving my son. You have my utmost gratitude.”
“I-it was nothing, m-my lady.” She curtseyed, and while Reed thought the move utterly strange, his sister seemed to be amused.
“Well, uh, they must do things very differently in America.” Her eyes scanned Elise’s evening gown. “Very different.”
“Indeed,” Reed muttered under his breath, then turned to Jonasson. “So, explain yourself and what you are doing here.”
“As I said, Your Grace, we were just sent here by our Alpha. I believe … he was first in contact with your late father, and he invited us to come here.”
“My father told me no such thing.” Surely Lowell would have at least mentioned it.
“We had heard he passed away,” Jonasson continued. “And of course, our Alpha waited for the appropriate mourning period before contacting you and sending his condolences, along with an acceptance of your father’s invitation to continue relations.”
He could not erase that seed of doubt in his mind. “He would have discussed something like that with me.”
“Reed, do you think it could have been right before the accident?” Eleanor said. “They’d been staying in Huntington Park for a few months and Father conducted most of his business from there.”
A year before they died, Annabelle and Lowell had become tired of the London life and decided to live in the largest