Persuaded to Love: A Kendawyn Paranormal Regency

by Amanda A. Allen

  “Please,” Venetia found herself saying. “Let’s let them just…look and see. Tiggy, they’re werewolves. They’re werewolves who clearly are wearing the facade of civilization. They can do things we can not.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Why don’t you and Alice go back to our townhouse. I’ll go to the Tyros House and correct what I did to the maze and allay rumors. I’ve already sent a note to the Exhibition Gardens ordering something exotic, so that it will seem like my rash act was simply part of a gift for the house. I’ll correct that and try to quiet everyone. Hugh, Rhys, and Oliver can do whatever they do, and we’ll stay at our house until their back.”

  “Business as usual,” Antigone said.

  “Seemingly,” Alice promised, taking Antigone’s hand and saying, “We aren’t alone this time. It isn’t just Venetia and Uncle Bradford who will protect you.”

  * * * * *

  Venetia felt the amount of apologizing she had to do, considering the plants she’d purchased for the house was ridiculous. It was a boxwood hedge, but it flowered with white blooms during the day that turned luminescent in the night. It would be a maze to be envied. Even still, they got her to increase the size of the maze and change the entire layout. She didn’t return to the townhouse until she was weary to her bones, filthy, and empty of magecraft ability. It would take her days to recoup her energy.

  The maze was, however, something to be seen and should not quiet the talk so much as change the tenor of it entirely to generosity and magecraft rather than rumormongering. When she got back to the townhouse, the windows were dark. She trusted that meant she would be able to bathe and slip into bed after checking on Antigone.

  She let herself in and trotted up the dark stairs. They hadn’t lit the lamps yet, but she assumed the servants were busy. Antigone and Venetia had been demanding the last few days, and she’d seen the harried look on the servants’ faces. They had to leave a nice gift for them when they vacated the house.

  It was the dark stretch of hallway to the bedrooms that paused her. The house was quiet, she realized. Even quieter than it was in the evening. The cook’s dog wasn’t trotting around as it was wont to do. The lamps might not have been lit on the stairs, but they were always lit in the hall. She sidled forward, stepping lightly and listening. And heard nothing.

  You’re being foolish, she thought, succumbing to idle fears because you’re tired. But she wasn’t brave enough to scold herself aloud. The house should have been safe. They had a butler, a cook, and two maids. Footmen were there during the day to do the heavy work and attend the carriages if they were needed.

  Alice and Antigone would have been together. And Antigone, at least, was very, very powerful. Would they have left?

  But no, Hugh had been on edge. He would have gotten Alice to promise to stay until he returned. Antigone wouldn’t put the baby or Alice at risk either. Venetia tiptoed down the hall and listened for long moments outside of Antigone’s bedroom. They might have readied themselves for bed, but they wouldn’t have gone to sleep until Venetia got back. She slowly pushed the door open.

  The fire was not lit.

  The normally neat room looked as if it had been stampeded. Her already racing heart stuttered in her chest. “Antigone,” Venetia called. “Alice?”

  Venetia heard the fear in her voice. She rushed to her room. It was untouched. She didn’t bother to be quiet but raced down the stairs.

  “Cook?” She called. “Mr. Stromm? Maggie? Jen? Hello? Hello!”

  There was a thump from the cellar, and Venetia rushed across the room to find the servants inside.

  “Oh miss!” Maggie cried. “Miss! Mr. Stromm is hurt something bad.”

  Venetia swallowed on a dry throat wishing she wasn’t alone and totally uncertain of what to do. And then her worries focused. Cook lumbered up the cellar steps. She normally stepped lightly, but she had blood on her forehead and she carried her arm pressed to her chest.

  Jen and Maggie, the two servant girls, were relatively unharmed. “Maggie light a lamp. Jen run for a healer. Tell them there was an accident, and we need someone right away.”

  Venetia pulled a chair out for Cook, took the lamp, and made her way down the stairs.

  “We stopped the bleeding,” Maggie said. “But he lost a lot of blood. They stabbed him, Miss. Oh miss, did they take Lady Vohlk and Miss Crestwell? Oh, miss!”

  “Maggie, we need to get Mr. Stromm upstairs, but I’m not strong enough. I need you to go next door and borrow the footmen.”

  Venetia knelt next to Mr. Stromm and realized how foolish they’d been. Maud Janus might not have been capable of something this wicked, but Venetia knew that the man with her had been. She’d seen the cold look in his eyes that echoed the gaze she’d seen so often in her birth father’s eyes.

  The servants from next door were there in moments, and they carried the butler up the stairs and placed him on a couch in the parlor. Venetia sat with him until the healer arrived and then made tea for everyone with a huge, medicinal drop of brandy.

  “What happened?” The healer asked. He’d had Mr. Stromm carried to his rooms and started the healing of the wound. With magic, it wouldn't take weeks like it would in the mortal world, but it wasn't over in a moment either. Mr. Stromm would recover fully in a few days and--far more importantly--was out of danger. The healer’s face was white with shock. This wasn’t something that Kendawyners experienced. They set aside their monsters. They didn’t have housebreakers. Who would do that when magic could track you down and werewolves or vampires or mages would make you pay for your crimes?

  Venetia shook her head helplessly. She wasn’t sure what to say or do when Antigone and Alice were missing. She needed her werewolves but had no idea how to track them.

  “Maggie says your friends are gone?” The doctor's shock was as stark as her own.

  Venetia nodded. She was sure that her face was the definition of forlorn. What to do? She couldn’t go after Alice and Antigone herself. Venetia was entirely drained, the last hour hadn’t helped, and none of that even mattered because she had no idea where to go or what to do. She wasn’t a werewolf.

  “We need to call the Watch,” the healer said.

  Venetia nodded. She’d already sent one of the footmen from next door.

  “It’s done,” she said, folding her arms on the table, dropping her head to them, and saying, “Cook needs you to see to her head and arm.”

  “Miss, what do we do?” Cook asked as soon as the healer finished with her. She sat at the table and partook of the brandy while Venetia shook her head.

  She didn’t know. She’d go after her friends alone, of course she would, but she just didn’t know where to go. She couldn’t just run out into the road, pick a direction, and hope for the best. Though that was exactly what she wanted to do.

  The Watch arrived just as the healer was asking, “Is there anyone we can call for you?”

  “They’ll come here directly,” Venetia answered.

  “What happened?” The Watch asked. He was a portly man with a large mustache. Venetia was certain as she looked at him, that the most he’d ever had to deal with is bring a Tyros to Tyros House and catching the occasional pickpocket.

  Venetia started to answer, but he cut her off and pointed at the Cook. “You start,” he barked. “The maid said you weren’t here during the attack.”

  The servants explained and Venetia listened in horror picturing too clearly what had happened. If Alice hadn’t been there, Antigone would have been able to get away easily. That must be why they took Alice. She was Antigone’s control. Venetia wanted to vomit at the thought. Were they treating Alice okay? She was pregnant with a baby. This couldn’t be good for the infant and Venetia and Antigone would never be able to forgive themselves if anything happened.

  And Hugh! He was going to lose his mind. The healer handed Venetia a potion.

  She looked a question at him, and he said. “You look like you need it.”

 
She was too tired to question, so she took the vial and downed it. It burned down her throat and set her stomach aflame, but that flame rolled up her spine and down to her toes giving her a form of fabricated energy. She knew, underneath the potion, she was so tired she hurt. But right at that moment, it didn’t matter.

  “How many of these do you have?” She asked quietly so as not to interrupt the interview.

  “Seven,” the healer replied with raised brows.

  “May I have all of them?”

  “Once they wear off,” he said, “You’d sleep for days after that many.”

  “That’s fine,” Venetia said, shoving her hair back and standing, grateful for the pseudo-energy that let her pace. She felt as though she would go mad if the werewolves didn't return quickly.

  The doctor nodded once. His eyes were concerned and didn't need to explain that her best friends were missing and she couldn't collapse now. She'd collapse later--when everyone was safe again.

  There was a roar at the front door as the Watch finished questioning the cook. The townhouse shook as the door slammed open.

  “Weapons!” The Watch shouted, fumbling at his side for his baton.

  “Rhys is here,” Venetia said to the Watch. “He’s a friend. Please don’t try to fight him, he might hurt you.”

  The Watch struggled for words, mouth dropped starting to speak, stopping, and then he fell completely silent as Rhys stepped through the kitchen door. He was followed by Hugh and Oliver, and Venetia could see by their faces that they didn’t need an explanation. They’d probably taken a deep breath when they came in, smelled who was missing, smelled the blood. They probably knew more than the rest of them did.

  “Sit down,” the Watch ordered and Rhys simply looked at the Watch who stepped back so quickly and far his back was pressed against the wall and he was sidling towards the door.

  “They were gone when I got back,” Venetia told Oliver. She couldn’t look at the other two. She couldn’t face them, not after this…

  * * * * *

  “We’ll find them,” Oliver said. He watched her not look at Rhys or Hugh. Those two were giving off the most agonized of scents even Oliver didn't want to face them. She seemed to feel the same.

  “Yes, we will,” Venetia swore and the growl in her voice called to his wolf which was already near the front of his consciousness.

  “Please let us do this,” he said to her, already knowing she would not agree.

  “We take everyone,” Venetia replied softly. They were waiting for Rhys to scare the Watch away. None of them actually needed anything other than for him to leave to get going.

  “I am going to change,” Venetia whispered to him. “If you leave without me, I will follow. Jen, watch them if they leave to give me a direction.”

  Venetia ran up the stairs, changed and returned in less than five minutes later. She wore a black split skirt, a black blouse, and a black jacket. Her boots were sturdy and laced to her knees. It would do.

  Oliver wanted to lock her in the same cellar that had kept the servants so conveniently earlier. But he didn’t need to know that she’d never forgive him for that. So he just promised himself to keep her close.

  “If they took her, they went to the docks,” Rhys said. “Nothing else makes sense. But we’ll follow the scents regardless. It’ll still be faster.”

  Hugh nodded. His face was white. Oliver couldn’t imagine how his cousin felt. Hugh had been through this once before and hadn’t recovered yet. How long would this add to Hugh's worries?

  “You know what is utter bollocks?” Hugh asked, even toned. “The idea that we somehow have this ideal society where we choose to lock away our monsters and bad things don’t happen. I was shot. Alice was bespelled and kidnapped. George was bespelled and Phoebe threatened. Antigone and Alice,” his words cracked her, “have been kidnapped. Again. We’re idiots living in our massive estates saying that everything is perfect and safe in Kendawyn. It’s not. Henry wouldn’t have had to hunt Kendawyner pirates in the Mortal Realm if we hadn’t stayed monsters this whole time.” The last words were a roar, and the look on his face said that someone was going to see this monster tonight. The poor fools who took his wife would never forget what they had unleashed. If they lived.

  Venetia crossed the room, opened the back door, and walked outside.

  “Where are you going,” Rhys growled. But she simply held up a hand, and when she came inside, there were vines wrapped around her arms and waist.

  She picked up the vials that the healer had left and crossed to the Cook.

  “Call the footmen, have them come and stay until we get back, spend whatever you need and hire whatever help you need. I will see you rewarded.”

  The Cook nodded once.

  “The Healer will be back for Mr. Stromm several times. Authorize whatever is necessary, I’ll pay for it all. Be safe. Leave if you feel threatened. Stay together. Look after each other.”

  The cook nodded again and said,"Don't think about us. Find Miss Alice and Miss Antigone."

  Venetia followed the others out the front door and down the steps. Oliver took her hand in his and then said, “You are going to slow us down.”

  “I’m going,” she replied.

  “Yes, I know.” He lifted her and put her on his back while Rhys walked back and forth until he caught the scent. He pointed and the others followed him down the street. Venetia was light enough and Rhys had to stop often enough to catch the scent that she did not slow Oliver down.

  “Do you catch that Hugh?” Rhys asked.

  “They’ve taken some of their clothes and gone in separate directions.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Alice is that way,” Hugh pointed to a road that led away from the docks and towards the countryside.

  “Antigone is this,” Rhys said, not disagreeing with Hugh. Rhys pointed towards the docks.

  “Why would they split up?” Venetia demanded. “Antigone could easily escape if they don’t have Alice.”

  “But she’ll never be sure,” Oliver said, hatred growing. “She’ll never risk Alice especially while she knows she’s pregnant. She’ll do whatever they say, just in case. They don’t need Alice. They need the threat of Alice.”

  “And Alice,” Rhys finished, “is Wolfemuir and a Countess. She’s too risky to keep. They’ll either let her go or kill her.”

  Hugh whimpered.

  “Go,” Rhys said. And Hugh disappeared down the road where Alice had been taken. No one even looked towards the other two routes with their false trails. These men were Wolfemuir alphas not hound dogs.

  There was no hesitation as they followed the path to the docks. Rhys pointed out the ship even the porthole where Antigone was being kept.

  “We kill them all,” Rhys said, curling his hands and there were wicked claws where his fingertips had been.

  Venetia felt a chill followed by a wicked delight that those who threatened her family would pay. And learn to never, ever, consider such a choice again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “No,” Venetia replied. Oliver hoped that Rhys didn’t forget that Venetia was beloved to them all.

  “I am alpha here.”

  “I am not in your pack. We don't have time. We don't know if Hugh needs help. We get Antigone. I’ll sink the ship. You can pick off the rest if you want, while the three of us make sure Alice is okay. We’ll need at least Oliver to follow whatever scent Hugh was following. I won’t risk the baby for vengeance.”

  Oliver breathed out. It was the right thing and even Rhys nodded. His eyes were pure gold, but the baby was Wolfemuir and the safety of the Wolfemuir always came before everything else.

  “Sink the ship?” Oliver asked.

  Venetia nodded. She pulled out the vials the healer had given her and drank all seven.

  “I don’t think,” Oliver started to object, but she had finished the last before he could stop her.

  She shuddered and her breath came in constant gasps, but w
hen she reached out her hand, the vine on it shot out, across the water and dug into the side of the ship just next to the porthole. She jerked her hand and the side she was holding embedded itself into the ground, digging deep.

  Rhys didn’t even wait, he leapt onto the vine and began climbing across it, taking mere seconds to cross hundreds of feet. Oliver lifted Venetia back onto his back and followed.

  Rhys ripped the porthole open and then said over his shoulder, “I’m too big. She’s not moving.”

  Venetia crawled around to Oliver’s front as she replied, “I’m not.”

  She felt down and took the knife from his boot saying, “I knew you’d have one.”

  She didn’t climb onto Rhys. She didn't need to. The vine around her waist reached around Rhys as if just stretching its limbs, but it dug into the side of the ship and reeled Venetia in. She pulled herself through the porthole and dropped to the ground.

  “Oh,” she said.

  Oliver wanted to throw himself through the porthole when he heard the low curse of a man.

  There was another curse and a thump, and she said softly, “I’m okay.”

  He heard her scurry across the floor and heard the sound of her knees dropping onto the wood.

  “I need a distraction,” she said. “Someone is coming.”

  Rhys nodded and he was just gone. There was a shriek followed by a long scream and a splash. Followed by another and another. Oliver could smell blood but didn’t leave Venetia and Antigone. They might need him and Rhys did not.

  He heard Venetia mutter and then she said softly, trusting he could hear her, “Grab onto the porthole, I need the vine.”

  He took hold of the porthole rim just as the vine snaked inside, leaving him hanging. He pulled up so he could see through into the room. Antigone was a lump on the floor and the vine was wrapped around her wrists dragging her across the wood towards the porthole. The body that he’d heard fall was Maud Janus. She was alive, breathing shallowly, but Venetia had sent the last of her vines through the woman’s flesh and bound her to the side of the ship with another vine wrapped around her mouth muting any screams.