After the meal, I invite Flora out onto a balcony with me. There, along the railing, grows some vines, and I pluck a flower. Without asking first, I tuck it behind her hair.
“So beautiful,” I murmur.
“There is more to a lady than her looks,” she says.
“Very much so. I was speaking of the flower, not you.”
She laughs gently. “Naturally.”
“I would know more about you,” I say.
“Such as who my father is so you can speak to him concerning me?”
“So that I can know you for who you are and who you hope to be.”
“You believe I am not happy with who I am currently?”
“I cannot and will not speak for another nor presume about you nor anyone else. However I will say that for myself at least, I wish to continue to improve myself.”
“How so?”
“I enjoy archery and horseback riding,” I inform her.
“Hunting?”
“Yes, although I am better in one form over the other,” I murmur, leaning closer to her.
“I wonder if I might be able to hunt better than you as a lady.”
I chuckle. “Perhaps you and your father and I can go on a hunt together and find out.”
“What about my mother?” she asks.
“She can also come too, certainly.”
Flora lifts her eyebrows. “You do not mind if we hunt with you?”
“Why should I?”
“If I was not a werewolf…” Her words were hardly audible.
“I suppose I cannot say for certain because you are one, but if you have a lady friend who is not a wolf and would like to hunt with us, she can most certainly tag along.”
I furrow and turn back to face the well-lit manor. Many are dancing, the music lively, but I see no one who is paying attention to me or, in particular, any Flora.
“Who has you so distracted?” she asks, turning also, leaning against the banister.
“No one.” I eye her. “Do you not have a chaperone here with you?”
“Ah.” She sighs slightly, and her lips curl downward at the corners.
“I did not mean to insinuate anything,” I hurry to assure her.
“You are fine,” she says. “No, I did not come with a chaperone.”
“No chaperone. No gloves. You did not mean to come inside at all, did you?”
“No, but I suppose someone changed my mind.” She eyes me with a playful smirk curling her lips.
“And I am grateful for that, but you can trust me. I will do nothing to cause your honor to be besmirched.”
She grunts, a most unladylike sound that fits her.
“Would you prefer to return inside?” I ask.
She eyes me, and I honestly have no idea which she prefers when there is a loud exclamation inside. We exchange a glance before hurrying back inside.
Several ladies appear to be rather beside themselves, fanning their pale faces, their eyes wide with fear. The gentlemen surrounding them look both alarmed and startled, and the prevailing scent in the air is fear.
“What is going on?” I ask, approaching the group.
“We just received word that the Baron of Thornford has been found dead in his house.”
“Dead?” I repeat.
Roger Brooks. I do not know him well at all.
“Why was he not here?” a gentleman asks.
“Was it in his sleep or…” A lady fans herself.
“This is not a conversation for ladies,” a gentleman says with a stern grimace.
After nodding to Flora, I step in front of the ladies. Behind me, I can sense her trying to turn the ladies away.
“Why is everyone so concerned about this?” I ask. “I know he is young, but is there something else of note about his death?”
The gentleman who spoke first purses his lips. “I do not know for certain of all details, but I am told that there is reason to believe that the baron had been murdered.”
Murdered. The thought horrifies me. Who would have done this and why? Although I do not know the baron personally and now can never rectify that, I have heard nothing at all to think of a reason why someone would want him dead.
Oh, how dark a turn this previously wonderful night has taken.