Romancing the Werewolf: A Supernatural Society Novella by Gail Carriger & G.L. Carriger

Author:Gail Carriger & G.L. Carriger [Carriger, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sexy, tea, funny, London, pack, Beta, sweet, witty, Seduction, glcarriger, alt-history, Steampunk, tattoo, ghost, gail carriger, gailcarriger, parasolverse, Gothic, KJ Charles, Romance, alpha, lgbt, comedy, Shapeshifter, Paranormal Romance, Victorian, LGBTQ, Historical, gl carriger, Love, parasol protectorate, werewolf, society, wits, supernatural, queer, humor, knitting, manners, gentle, heart, gaslight, vampire, urban fantasy, shifter, supernatural society
ISBN: 9781944751104
Publisher: GAIL CARRIGER LLC
Published: 2017-11-04T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

A Crisis of Nasal Proportions

Biffy really wished he had Riehard in residence. No doubt that particular werewolf would have nipped down to the Crown and Sceptre and returned a few hours later with all their questions answered. Biffy and Riehard had always gotten along well. Riehard had a gift for gathering information and Biffy had a gift for loving it. Some might call Biffy a gossip, but only lesser intellects.

Without Riehard, Biffy had to put his faith in Rafe – a shaky proposition. Oh, he knew why Lyall had chosen Rafe and Hemming for pub detail. Hemming was for jocularity and show. And Rafe was for appearances. Rafe was their most (frankly) common-looking pack mate. He had a rough-and-tumble air not helped by the fact that he’d been metamorphosed with two days’ worth of beard and no inclination to fix it. It gave him, Biffy felt, a sadly plebeian aura. Rafe wasn’t as good as Riehard at extracting information, because he tended to come over friendly and start singing bawdy tunes and lose track of things. But he was better than nothing, so Biffy waved him off to the pub, resigned to the fact that at least it wasn’t Channing. Channing never did anyone any favors at pubs.

Then Biffy’s own trials must commence.

Visiting the gentry was a necessary evil that he’d already conducted the day after moving. Biffy was no slouch where the observation of proper etiquette was concerned. The rules were very strict on the matter of a lord taking up residence in a new neighborhood. The fact that said lordling came complete with a pack of werewolves was neither here nor there to the necessity of paying calls. So, calls he had paid. All of them.

The gentry of Blackheath proved itself by and large to be the type to have opted for Greenwich over North London. Which is to say, more relaxed and also a great deal less fashionable than was Biffy’s routine society. They had a great deal more concern for the state of the whitebait fisheries than for the arrangement of their hair. Biffy tried not to hold this against them. Although, really, how hard is it to find yourself a decent barber once a month? One must forgive both the sins of the fish and flesh, I suppose, when living in Greenwich. Needless to say, he did not relish the idea of having to pay another round of calls again so soon.

Nevertheless, he did as Lyall bid – making polite inquiries that might lead the various mildly confused ladies and gentlemen (or better, their staff) to mention the unexpected absence of a child from their household.

Nothing.

He returned to the house for midnight dinner to find the others equally fruitless and the babies in question abed. Thank heavens Mrs Whybrew seemed to feel it best to keep them to a daylight schedule, despite being fostered by a pack of werewolves.

Dinner was eaten in ravenous silence and then filled with reports on what had not been found.

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