and useless. Once the pack got their hands on her, he couldn’t imagine anything but disaster in Lady Amelia’s future. And it troubled him more than he liked.
What the hell had the humans done to the offspring of two of the world’s most powerful wolves?
The pack’s future rested in her hands? Her helpless hands? Well then, that was it. They were already doomed.
Vlad and his pack were going to eat her alive.
* * * * *
I a m such a fraud.
Lady Amelia Routledge—Lia to her friends—danced the quadrille as if she were a clever automaton, smiling sweetly at all the appropriate places, but just going through the motions. She had loving parents, a generous dowry, and every advantage a young lady could hope to have. And yet, she selfishly wanted more— needed more.
It wasn’t baubles or diamonds or anything so garish, nothing that could be bought that she craved. Nor friends or admirers. She had no shortage of either. Her parents, the Earl of Hawthorn, the renowned diplomat and his countess, loved her and doted on their only child as if the sun rose and set just for her. Because of them, she never wanted for anything. She considered herself the most fortunate lady in London.
And yet, something was missing from her life. An emptiness burned in her chest. Her mind constantly whirled. Her body felt restless. She rarely slept anymore. In her search for fulfillment, she’d dedicated hours every week to her charity work. She’d sought scholarly pursuits that more often than not left her head pounding.
She’d even fallen in love…once.
She could quote Shakespeare, Keats, and Byron, name the constellations in the night sky, discuss the merits and hazards of the Corn Laws, and tell anyone who cared to ask why love wasn’t worth the time. But she couldn’t douse the infernal fire that grew hotter with the passing of every day. Even now, despite the frivolity of the ball, it scorched her, threatening to consume her.
She’d give anything— every thing—to find the cause of her unhappiness.
“You dance exquisitely, Lady Amelia,” her latest partner, Lord Duncan, commented as the set drew to a close.
“Thank you , ” Lia answered with a gentle tilt of her head. “And you were a delightful partner. You only managed to stomp my toes three times.”
Lord Duncan chuckled. Unlike most of the eligible gentlemen in the room, he had no desire to win her or her tempting dowry.
“Have you seen Clarissa—er—Miss Sutton this evening?” he asked. This Season hapless Duncan was hopelessly in love with Lia’s cousin, Clarissa.
“She was dancing with Captain Jakes, I believe.”
“Ack, my poor dove’s feet! You should have told me so I could have saved her from that lead-booted cad.”
“And I suppose your feet are feathers?”
Lord Duncan scowled. “I apologize for that. My mind wasn’t on the dance.”
“No, it was on Clarissa. Come.” She patted his arm, not ready to let him go just yet. “Escort me to the refreshments room. You can tell me more about that young gelding you’re thinking of purchasing.”
He brightened at the mention of his horses. He could speak for hours on that particular topic. Lia half-listened as they made their way across the crowded ballroom.
She felt safe clinging to her old friend’s arm when so many of the gentleman at tonight’s ball wanted to dance with her, or talk with her, or flirt with her. It was a hazard of possessing such a large dowry and having spent one too many Seasons on the marriage mart. At one-and-twenty, everyone expected her to be well and wed before the Season’s end.
Marriage, what a dreadful thought. She usually handled the pressure without a jot of trouble. But tonight she was in a mood to snarl and snap.
She hated being confined in such a crowded space while pretending she was nothing more than a mindless, empty-headed twit. Being forced to play such a game while trapped in an overheated crowded space would overset anyone’s
What the hell had the humans done to the offspring of two of the world’s most powerful wolves?
The pack’s future rested in her hands? Her helpless hands? Well then, that was it. They were already doomed.
Vlad and his pack were going to eat her alive.
* * * * *
I a m such a fraud.
Lady Amelia Routledge—Lia to her friends—danced the quadrille as if she were a clever automaton, smiling sweetly at all the appropriate places, but just going through the motions. She had loving parents, a generous dowry, and every advantage a young lady could hope to have. And yet, she selfishly wanted more— needed more.
It wasn’t baubles or diamonds or anything so garish, nothing that could be bought that she craved. Nor friends or admirers. She had no shortage of either. Her parents, the Earl of Hawthorn, the renowned diplomat and his countess, loved her and doted on their only child as if the sun rose and set just for her. Because of them, she never wanted for anything. She considered herself the most fortunate lady in London.
And yet, something was missing from her life. An emptiness burned in her chest. Her mind constantly whirled. Her body felt restless. She rarely slept anymore. In her search for fulfillment, she’d dedicated hours every week to her charity work. She’d sought scholarly pursuits that more often than not left her head pounding.
She’d even fallen in love…once.
She could quote Shakespeare, Keats, and Byron, name the constellations in the night sky, discuss the merits and hazards of the Corn Laws, and tell anyone who cared to ask why love wasn’t worth the time. But she couldn’t douse the infernal fire that grew hotter with the passing of every day. Even now, despite the frivolity of the ball, it scorched her, threatening to consume her.
She’d give anything— every thing—to find the cause of her unhappiness.
“You dance exquisitely, Lady Amelia,” her latest partner, Lord Duncan, commented as the set drew to a close.
“Thank you , ” Lia answered with a gentle tilt of her head. “And you were a delightful partner. You only managed to stomp my toes three times.”
Lord Duncan chuckled. Unlike most of the eligible gentlemen in the room, he had no desire to win her or her tempting dowry.
“Have you seen Clarissa—er—Miss Sutton this evening?” he asked. This Season hapless Duncan was hopelessly in love with Lia’s cousin, Clarissa.
“She was dancing with Captain Jakes, I believe.”
“Ack, my poor dove’s feet! You should have told me so I could have saved her from that lead-booted cad.”
“And I suppose your feet are feathers?”
Lord Duncan scowled. “I apologize for that. My mind wasn’t on the dance.”
“No, it was on Clarissa. Come.” She patted his arm, not ready to let him go just yet. “Escort me to the refreshments room. You can tell me more about that young gelding you’re thinking of purchasing.”
He brightened at the mention of his horses. He could speak for hours on that particular topic. Lia half-listened as they made their way across the crowded ballroom.
She felt safe clinging to her old friend’s arm when so many of the gentleman at tonight’s ball wanted to dance with her, or talk with her, or flirt with her. It was a hazard of possessing such a large dowry and having spent one too many Seasons on the marriage mart. At one-and-twenty, everyone expected her to be well and wed before the Season’s end.
Marriage, what a dreadful thought. She usually handled the pressure without a jot of trouble. But tonight she was in a mood to snarl and snap.
She hated being confined in such a crowded space while pretending she was nothing more than a mindless, empty-headed twit. Being forced to play such a game while trapped in an overheated crowded space would overset anyone’s
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