Except, this attachment to her was not new. It had existed in London.
Philip hadn’t understood it any better last spring than he did now.
He was surprised to find most of his family at the table when he entered the breakfast room. Not only Petra and Maia, who had been searching with them constantly, but Gretchen, Larisa and Selene, who had also been of assistance. They were now joined by his brother, Simon, and cousin Pierce, who had married Clara the night of the Witches’ Ball. She sat beside him, as did his cousin Orion and his wife Nina. Beside them was his cousin Damon, Viscount Bentford, and his wife Cordelia. They’d been visiting the neighboring estate, where Cordelia’s brother lived, these past weeks. They’d gone there as soon as Nightshade Manor became overrun with guests. The only people missing, who were in residence at Nightshade Manor, were his uncles, the Earl of Wharton and Marquess of Chandos, and Damon’s three nieces of whom Damon now had guardianship, and it was likely they were in the nursery. As for his own father, he was likely still at the family estate, even though the rest of his family were here.
“Why is everyone here?” he asked. Pierce should be enjoying time with his wife. They’d only been married little more than a fortnight and why wasn’t Simon back at the estate?
“Where do we start?”
He turned to find his other two brothers, Lysander and Stefanos, entering.
“Why is everyone here?” Philip asked again.
“Two reasons,” his mother answered. “The women are going to help search the vault. The more that we have, the quicker solutions can be found.”
“The men?” he questioned.
Orion grinned. “To determine the best place for your cage.”
“I am glad that you can find humor in my predicament,” Philip grumbled and crossed to the sideboard.
“I do not think we truly need one,” Orion said. “With the number of witches at this table alone, an answer will be found.”
“I hope you are correct.”
“However, we also can’t wait until the full moon to decide what to do if there is no reversal found.” This was said in a more sober tone.
“You will need it sooner than that,” Philip informed them as he filled his plate and took a seat at the table.
“Why?” his mother asked in alarm.
“There are more changes each night, and I can feel the strain in my boots, and arms. I do not wish to ruin a perfectly good set of clothing each time I change.”
He hoped that she understood his meaning.
“A private cell it shall be,” Orion announced.
“Yes, that would be preferable,” Philip grumbled. It was bad enough that some of them may eventually witness his changes, but he didn’t want them to see him naked, before and after either.
Antonia entered a few moments later but stopped at the threshold when she noted all the new arrivals.
Philip stood and walked to her side before introducing everyone.
“So, you are the witch who has turned my brother into a werewolf,” Simon proclaimed. She stiffened at the angry edge of his brother’s tone. Philip also experienced the guilt and pain that flooded her and flowed to him.
“This is not her fault,” Philip barked and placed a hand at the small of her back, hoping to offer comfort. “I was the one who was there and did not announce my presence.”
Simon raised an eyebrow as humor danced in his eyes “Rather protective of her, given what she has done.”
Philip took a step forward ready to plant his brother a facer. Antonia placed a hand on his arm. “He is right. I did read the spell,” she whispered. “Your brother has every right to be angry with me.”
“No, he does not.”
Simon’s lips quirked as he turned away and sipped his tea.
Antonia studied Simon. “Except, he is not angry at all, concerned, worried, but not angry.”
It was Simon’s turn to look at her with astonishment.
