“Tell me of the spell.”
Antonia once again tried to explain what had occurred, but she had barely gotten started when his aunt held up a hand.
“This wolf, was his name Amarok?”
Lady Antonia blinked. “Yes.”
“I had forgotten about him.”
“Who is Amarok?” Petra asked.
“A very charming wolf and dangerous,” her mother answered.
“Except he wasn’t the one who was changed, so can we please return to the matter at hand,” Philip reminded them.
Lady Antonia winced, and he was sorry that his words were so sharp, but the blasted wolf did not matter.
“You encouraged the spell?” his aunt asked Petra.
Then they all started speaking at once, asking questions, some that were answered, talking over each other, and even Amcaster and Jourdain contributed. The excitement of what might happen, what had been done, and suggestions for solving the matter were so continuous that Philip couldn’t even keep track of what they were saying. However, the one person who was not speaking was Lady Antonia. She had withdrawn as far as she could go without leaving, her hand braced against the wall, her face had lost all color.
He’d seen her as such in London, which was usually before she disappeared for the night.
He couldn’t understand it then, nor did he understand it now. Except, guilt and fear at what she may have done could be causing the panic. If that was the case, what had she done in London that he knew nothing about?
Not that it bloody mattered because it could not have been as serious as turning him into a werewolf.
She closed her eyes, her knuckles turning white from her grip on the wall. Slowly her body bent, and Philip prepared himself for her to dissolve into a bucket of tears, except it was pain that was etched across her features.
“I need to go,” she whispered, yet somehow, he had heard her.
She turned for the entry, but he was not going to let her run away from him again.
She may have gotten away with it after a waltz, but she had caused this mess and he’d make her stay and fix it.
As soon as she stepped through the door, Philip crossed the drawing room, taking quick strides, determined to catch Lady Antonia and haul her back to the parlor. What he hadn’t expected to come across was her unconscious form in the middle of the entry.
What the blazes had happened to her?
Antonia woke with a jolt and sat up in her bed. The room was dark, and she had no idea how late it was, or it could be early morning.
How had she even gotten here? The last thing she recalled was trying to flee the overwhelming emotion coming from those in the parlor. Emotions that she had caused.
She pushed the coverlet away and stood to walk to the window and look out. The moon was high, which meant it was nearing midnight.
That was when Chedworth’s changes occurred.
She needed to see to understand.
Antonia still wanted to believe that they were all mistaken but knew they were not.
Chedworth may not want to see her, and no doubt he hated her and would ask her to leave Nightshade Manor as soon as the spell had been reversed, but she still needed to help him.
She quickly slipped on shoes and hurried toward the door, only to stop when she caught sight of her appearance. Tangled curls dropped about her shoulders, and she quickly brushed her hair and tied it back to be out of the way. Antonia would have liked to have changed out of her wrinkled and rumpled gown but did not have time.
Quietly she opened her chamber door and looked out to make certain no one was around. It wouldn’t do to be caught meeting Lord Chedworth at midnight. She was in enough trouble with this family already.
Slipping down the stairs she only paused when she heard quiet conversation coming from the parlor.
