A Witch in Time

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 what she was saying? What it would mean for her to gain either title? She wanted his parents … He let out a disgusted snort. “Get out.”
Joanna 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, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
Stamping her foot like a child, she let out a cry. “B-but 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 gossip? She was a fool, then.
No, he was the fool. For being so blindly in love and not seeing what was obvious. And what his wolf was trying to tell him. His gaze dropped to 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 Joanna. And why, since she announced her pregnancy, it seemed even more wary of her. “For God’s sake Joanna, 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 office, 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 had 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 Joanna, he went out for a ride and came back an hour later. She was gone, and he slept on the sofa in his office. 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 Joanna to avoid scandal. In fact, they were quite supportive of him, tiptoeing around the subject for the last two weeks. And as for Joanna, 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 teapot. “Forgive me, Mother.”
Her eyes softened. “Always, a bhobain.”
My darling. He couldn’t remember the last time she had used 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 come back to haunt them 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 ever truly love him?
“Have you heard from Lord