The Wolf's Choice (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 4)

by Patricia Blackmoor

  “He did.”

  “I see,” she said, her face growing quiet. “Who did he choose?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She tilted her head at me. “I don’t understand.”

  “No one would tell us who he’s chosen.”

  “So, it’s possible he chose you?” she asked. The hope in her voice and spreading across her face was unmistakable. I thought I might vomit, knowing I would have to dash her hopes all over again. The duke had chosen. It wasn’t me. It was never me. It would never be me.

  “No, mum,” I said gently. “The woman he chose is still at Wolf’s Peak. None of us know which one it is.”

  “I see,” she said again. She paused for a moment before touching my arm. “Well, come on, let’s have some tea and we’ll talk about it.”

  I bit my lip. “Oh, mum, we don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

  “Nonsense. I want to hear all about the duke,” she said, taking my arm and leading me into the living room. We sat down on the plush couches, and she motioned for a servant to bring some tea.

  “So? Tell me all about it. Who else was there?”

  I pressed myself into the corner of the couch. “Well, Hattie Thorn, Stella Darby, and Lillian Hilton.”

  She nodded, her face taking on an expression that told me everything now made sense to her. “Do you think he chose Hattie or Lillian?”

  This next part might be a bit fun. “Actually, he chose neither.”

  “Really?”

  “They were both sent home at the same time I was. He didn’t choose Stella, either.”

  The servant came in and set the tray on the table in front of us. My mother took a teacup from the tray and sipped on it. “So, who else was there?”

  I reached for a teacup as well. “Susie Whittemore, Mabel Honeysett, and another girl, Christine. Christine,” I struggled to remember her last name, “Croft.”

  My mother frowned. “Croft. That sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”

  “I’d never seen her before,” I told her. “I don’t think she’s from around here.”

  “So how did she end up as an option for the duke?”

  I shrugged. “Annabelle found her. I don’t know much more than that.”

  “Interesting,” she said. She had her eyes trained on me, with the same expression on her face that she had when gossiping with the ladies from church. The sort of look craving sordid information, no matter how ghastly it may be. “So he’s chosen one of those?”

  “He must have.”

  “What all did you do? How did you get to know him?”

  “Well, yesterday morning, we all went in for interviews, and last night we had dinner and played some parlor games.” I declined to tell her much about the game, because I didn’t want to relive the embarrassment of the girls’ teasing, and I didn’t want to tell her about kissing Adam, lest she ask more questions. Instead, I went into more detail about the interview.

  “It’s a shame you didn’t get a chance to spend more time with him one–on–one,” she sighed as she leaned over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Perhaps then he could have seen what a wonderful wife you’d make. You always did blend when you were in a crowd.”

  I bit my tongue as I took a deep breath. “Actually, I did get a chance to speak with him last night.”

  “Did you? And he still didn’t choose you?”

  “He’d made up his mind by then,” I said, more defensively than I’d intended.

  “Well, then, what did you talk about?”

  I’d already had to explain what little I could to Adam; I didn’t want to have to go into detail with my mother as well. I shouldn’t have even mentioned that I’d conversed with him. “Nothing serious. He knew I played piano, and was curious to hear me play.”

  “I see,” she said, her excitement deflating.

  We heard the front door open, and after a moment, Harry and Adam traipsed through the living room. My eyes locked with Adam’s for the briefest of moments, then I flickered my gaze away, down to my tea as I took another sip.

  “Hello, Adam,” my mother said with a smile.

  “Nice to see you, Mrs. Ackerman.”

  “Oh, please,” she sighed. “You know you can call me Dorothy.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry about Hazel,” my mother said. “I know you were really hoping she would be successful with the duke.”

  She spoke of me as if I weren’t even there, and I set my teacup down before I accidentally snapped the handle off in anger. With the cup back on the tray, I dug my nails into my skin, working to ground myself as I stared at the floor. There was nothing, however, that I could do about the heated blush rising in my cheeks.

  “Oh, well, she did her best,” Adam said, but I could hear the discomfort in his voice.

  “I’m sorry her best wasn’t good enough then,” my mother said, giving me a nudge to imply that it was supposed to be a joke. It certainly didn’t feel like a joke. Tears sprang to my eyes, though I knew it was stupid. I hadn’t even wanted to marry the duke...but at the same time, I hadn’t wanted to disappoint the most important people in my life: my mother, my father, and Adam. Harry, for his part, didn’t seem to care at all, and I appreciated the cavalier attitude he took toward the whole situation.

  “It’s really all right,” Adam said.

  “Why don’t you boys sit down?” my mother asked. “I can have the servants bring out more tea.”

  “We were actually going to go to Adam’s for a bit,” Harry said. I looked up at him and he winked at me. Declining her invitation was purposeful. He didn’t want the subject to drag on.

  “No, I insist,” my mother said. “Clara! More tea, please!”

  “It can’t hurt,” Adam said as he and Harry moved to the other couch. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt him, but it would hurt me. Looking at Adam, I was looking at the two failures of my love life. I had been rejected by Adam, and rejected by the duke he’d brought me to. Just a glance at him was a stab of pain.

  “So, Adam,” my mother said, leaning in, “tell me, in your opinion, what do you think Hazel could have done differently?”

  I kept my eyes trained on my lap, praying that he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes.

  “I really don’t think there was anything,” Adam said.

  “Well, there had to have been something,” she told him.

  “I really don’t think so. Honestly, Jasper told us he may have found his soul mate.”

  My mother laughed. “What a ridiculous idea. A silly myth.”

  “Perhaps, but it seems he made his choice the moment he laid eyes on the young lady.”

  “And you can’t tell us who it is?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t. Not until she accepts his proposal, which he should be asking right about now.”

  “That could have been you, dear,” my mother said, nudging me again.

  As Clara brought tea for the men, I heard another set of footsteps and turned to see my father striding in.

  He glanced at me. “Well, did he pick you?”

  I swallowed. “No.”

  “Well, why the bloody hell not?”

  I raised my eyes from my lap, and they connected like a magnet with Adam’s. His gaze held an unexpected sympathy and worry, but I wasn’t going to let him see me break down.

  “It’s been a long weekend,” I told the room as I rose from my chair. “I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

  My mum started muttering protestations, but I ignored her as I left the room. I was crossing to the stairs when I heard Adam behind me.

  “Hazel,” he said, but I didn’t turn around.

  “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Adam.”

  “Please, Hazel, let me just say something.”

  I took a deep breath and turned to face him, cursing the tear that slipped down my cheek. “You’ve said enough, Adam. I’m going upstairs.”

  “H
azel—”

  “Adam!” My father called out from the living room. “What did Hazel do wrong?”

  I scoffed and shook my head at Adam. He closed his eyes and exhaled, and I took the opportunity to climb the rest of the staircase and escape into my room.

  I sat down on my bed and grabbed a pillow, clutching it to my chest, my hands crushing the fabric and feathers in my palm. It was all I could do not to hold the pillow to my face and scream until I ran out of air.

  I was hesitant to believe that Adam had done all of this to embarrass me, even if that’s what had ended up happening. I finally let the tears of the weekend spill from my eyes, cleansing my body of the stress and disappointment and humiliation. What a nightmare I had just endured, and knowing my parents, I hadn’t heard the end of it. Perhaps Adam would drop it now, but when was I going to see him again? If the past year had been any indication, our times together would be few and far between. How on earth was I going to survive the next two or so weeks with my mother and father bringing up my failure at every turn? And the worst part was, were it not for my parents and Adam, it wouldn’t have felt like a failure at all.

  I hadn’t truly wanted to marry the duke, and I had avoided an engagement with him. I should be happy, I should be celebrating. My heart should be light, the way it had been this morning when Daisy had come in and told me the news. Instead, I was grieving my parents’ approval and pride.

  I asked for supper in my room, and Clara acquiesced. She had overheard the conversation in the living room; they always talked as if the servants weren’t there. She’d seen my puffy eyes and tear–stained cheeks. She understood without me having to say anything, and so she brought me my dinner in my room, and told my family I was simply worn out from the weekend.

  It was partially true. The last few days had taken every ounce of energy I’d had, sucking it slowly like a leech. I’d already been ridiculed and embarrassed the whole time I’d been at Wolf’s Peak. I didn’t need that at home as well.

  Adam had left a while ago. As I sat by the window, staring out at the trees and the street, wishing I could be anywhere but here, I heard Harry and Adam leave the house and watched them cross in front and head into the woods between houses. Those same woods that Adam and I had spent hours in, tangled up in each other’s arms, naked bodies pressed together. Did Harry know? They’d always told each other everything.

  When I was younger I used to be able to place a glass against the wall and hear everything they were talking about. Harry loved to brag about his exploits, and Adam would usually throw in some information to trade. He’d talk about girls he had a crush on, but rarely did anything come of those crushes. When they did, it was a knife to my heart. I stopped listening after a while. It became too painful.

  Somehow, I doubted that Adam had told Harry. I suspected that I’d have heard from Harry by now if that were the case. He might have given Adam a black eye or two as well. Though I hadn’t seen Adam in months, I doubted they’d still be friends if all of that had happened.

  As the moon slipped over the tips of the trees, I climbed into a nightgown and sat down at my dressing table to brush out my hair. My dressing table was right next to a window, and I could see out to the front of the house and across the street from here. Had I been in the city, I would have shut the curtain so no one could see inside, but out here, I didn’t bother. Besides, I liked to watch the bats fly across the moon.

  I pulled the pins out of my hair and began to brush through my locks, taking my time to get out each snarl and make my hair silky smooth. It was therapeutic, somehow, the brushing. I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I was a mess with puffiness that had shrunk my eyes. No wonder no one had chosen me.

  As I stood up to go to bed, I caught sight of something across the street. I strained my eyes to see what it was. From behind the trees lining the road, a wolf was watching. Adam?

  I shut the curtain and went to bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  I stayed in my room for several days, doing my best to avoid my family. Each time I would think things had died down, I’d leave my room, only to be greeted with a snarky or passive–aggressive comment. After that, I’d go straight back to my room, staying there through dinner until I found the nerve to reemerge.

  Nearly a week had passed when my mother knocked on my bedroom door. I had been sketching with pastels on my desk, and turned toward the sound. She didn’t wait for me to respond, instead pushing open the door. What was the point of knocking if she was going to come in anyway?

  I sighed as she came into the room, shutting the door behind her and folding her arms.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked her.

  She strutted across the room and pulled open my wardrobe. “I know you’ve been sulking,” she said, not giving me time to respond, “but I’m going to need you to come out of your room tonight.”

  I squared my jaw. “Why’s that?”

  She ruffled through my dresses. “We’re having a dinner party tonight.”

  “You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”

  “I’ve hardly seen you. You’ve locked yourself up here.”

  I couldn’t tell her that the reason I’d locked myself up was so I didn’t have to hear the pity or sighs that they gave me whenever they saw me. I knew I had failed to win the duke’s heart. Really, I shouldn’t care, since I hadn’t wanted to marry him. But my family, with the exception of my brother, seemed intent on reminding me of my shortcomings and making me feel bad about it.

  “You should wear this,” she said, pulling an emerald gown out of my closet and laying it across the bed. It was a lovely gown, with a scoop neckline and full sleeves. The emerald color would bring out my eyes, and the velvet damask pattern made the gown look and feel luxurious. Considering for a moment, my mother went to my jewelry box and pulled out a black choker with a cameo piece in the center.

  “This would look lovely,” she murmured. “With your black boots? Yes, I think that will do.”

  I began shuffling my pastels back into the box. “Who all is coming tonight?” I asked her.

  “Mostly your father’s friends and a few of mine. Lord and Lady Rollins, Lady Randolph—”

  “Annabelle?”

  “I was talking about Stephen’s mother, but Stephen and Annabelle will also be here. Also, Lord and Lady Honeysett, and Adam.”

  I tried not to reveal my excitement. “Adam?”

  “Yes, he came ‘round yesterday and Harry asked if we could invite him. How could I say no? He did, after all, do everything in his power to allow you to marry the duke.”

  There it was. We could scarcely get through a conversation without that getting brought up.

  “I felt we owed him a debt,” my mother continued. “You know, you really should thank him.”

  “I have, but I’ll thank him again tonight,” I said.

  “All right, now, get up,” she instructed. “Guests will be here in an hour.”

  I leapt from my chair. “An hour? Nothing like leaving things to the last minute, then.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Start getting dressed. I’ll call Clara in here to help us.”

  I stripped off my day dress as my mum shouted down the hallway for Clara. I began to pull the emerald gown on, and when my mother turned back around and saw me, she sighed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Getting dressed?”

  “Without your corset?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mum, is that really necessary?”

  “You need to look nice for our guests,” she said, pulling one out of my wardrobe.

  “But mum, haven’t you heard what the doctors are saying? They’re bad for you.”

  “I’ve worn corsets all my life and I’m doing just fine, thank you very much,” she said. “You’re wearing one tonight, and that’s final.”

  I sighed, stepping out of the gown as Clara poked her head into the room.

  “Oh, good,” my mother said. “You can hel
p me with the corset.”

  I caught Clara’s gaze, and we shared an eye–roll as my mother forced me into the corset and began to lace it up. The corset wasn’t so uncomfortable that I couldn’t make it through the night, but it made me feel uptight and restricted. Probably the point, really. Can’t have the women feeling too free.

  Clara and my mother worked, their fingers flying, to imprison me in my corset. Once my body had transformed to an hourglass shape, they helped me into the gown, working in tandem on the satin buttons at the back of the dress.

  “Wonderful,” my mother said, appraising me with pride. “Go sit at your dressing table.”

  I did as I was told, taking a seat in front of the mirror, and she pulled my hair out of the loose bun I had twisted it into earlier that day. She grabbed my brush off the table and began pulling it through my locks, not gently, getting out the snarls and forcing it to cooperate.

  “Now, what to do with your hair?” she murmured as she picked up a few pins. “Let’s see.”

  While she worked with my hair, I watched in the mirror. Finally, when I’d worked up the nerve, I cleared my throat. “Mum, do you think I could use some of your cosmetics?”

  She paused. “Really? You want to?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “I think that’s a fantastic idea,” she said, pausing with my hair and looking at my reflection in the mirror. “Some powder to control shine, a bit of rouge to give you color in your cheeks, a bit of lipstick. Maybe some gel on your lashes. Oh! This is so exciting! You’ve never shown an interest before.”

  “I thought I’d try it,” I said in a faint voice.

  She placed the last few pins in my hair and sighed. “Oh, perhaps losing the duke’s affections was good after all.”

  I pinched my lips together as she left the room, returning moments later with the promised cosmetics. I sat perfectly still as she applied the powder to my face, adding all sorts of other colors with all sorts of little brushes. When I looked in the mirror, I had to admit that while I still looked like myself, I was a much more attractive version of myself. It wasn’t obvious that I was wearing anything on my face, but everything looked smoothed out and pristine, like a china doll.