not see?"
"I cannot marry her so I do not know what you expect me to do."
"No, you cannot marry her, but your brother can."
"Me?" Nathaniel felt a chill run up his back. He had only met the girl and it was impossible to know whether the baby inside her was even his brother's let alone a werechild.
"Do you have any idea how many werewolves we lost in the Napoleonic Wars? Our pack lost more than half of our men. That meant that many of our women married non-were men and so a large number of their children were born non-were. When I was a boy our pack was three times the size it is today. When Owen was a boy it was five times larger. We are dwindling. We cannot let a potential werechild be lost to us."
"Could we set her up in a small cottage and pay to keep her. Many of the other peers have mistresses."
"I will not let my son be the first to besmirch the good name of Wolstenholme. We have been able to keep out heads held proudly since the Plantagenets granted us this land hundreds of years ago. You want to destroy all that over one night of poor judgment?"
"One night of my brother's poor judgment should not be enough to ruin my life," Nathaniel said.
"It will hardly ruin your life if we are being fair," his father said softly. "Your brother is the heir. With each son he fathers you are further and further away from a title. Your marriage prospects are already limited."
"I should at least marry a werewolf and be guaranteed to father were-children," Nathaniel said though he immediately wished he had not.
"Just like I was?"
"You know I did not mean any such thing by that," Nathaniel said. Mercy being a non-were had been the bane of their father's existence. It was not unheard of. There had been one other instance in Wolstenholme history where a pack alpha fathered a non-were child but it had been assumed by everyone that the wife was a philanderer. His father had to accept that either he had fathered a non-were child or his wife had made a cuckold of him. Nathaniel did not believe his mother had ever been unfaithful. He had few memories of her but from what his father and brother had shared of her he believed she was a dutiful and faithful wife.
"I know that there is a woman in the next room who very well might be carrying my first grandson. I cannot ignore that. If you marry her then there is a chance the child in her is a were-child and that any other children you have will be were-children as well. You know I do not like this. I would much rather you find a nice she-wolf to marry but I also will not turn my back on my blood nor let my first grandchild be born a bastard. Your mother's ghost would haunt me to an early grave if I did that."
Nathaniel looked down at his shoes for a long moment before lifting his head and giving a slow nod. His father was right. There was only one choice that could be made.
"I will marry her."
His father was not wrong. There was honor at stake. There also was blood. The woman might be nothing but a trollop but that did not change the fact that the child she was carrying might well be a Wolstenholme and if the girl was carrying a Wolstenholme baby there would be hell to pay from the ghosts of his ancestors if they did not care for one of their own. Even cousins far removed lived on their land and served in their house because that was what family did. Especially were-family.
Besides, the only woman he really wanted was Vivian and it was clear she had no interest at all in him nor should she. She would end up married to an heir, not someone who would yearly grow further and further from a title as more and more nephews were born.
"Then it is settled," his father said. Nathaniel followed him back to the drawing room where the girl was still looking down at her dress or perhaps the bulge of her stomach where some child grew.
"Your daughter will marry my younger son. He has no title and almost no hope of ever getting one so I hope you understand that if this was some trick to marry
"I cannot marry her so I do not know what you expect me to do."
"No, you cannot marry her, but your brother can."
"Me?" Nathaniel felt a chill run up his back. He had only met the girl and it was impossible to know whether the baby inside her was even his brother's let alone a werechild.
"Do you have any idea how many werewolves we lost in the Napoleonic Wars? Our pack lost more than half of our men. That meant that many of our women married non-were men and so a large number of their children were born non-were. When I was a boy our pack was three times the size it is today. When Owen was a boy it was five times larger. We are dwindling. We cannot let a potential werechild be lost to us."
"Could we set her up in a small cottage and pay to keep her. Many of the other peers have mistresses."
"I will not let my son be the first to besmirch the good name of Wolstenholme. We have been able to keep out heads held proudly since the Plantagenets granted us this land hundreds of years ago. You want to destroy all that over one night of poor judgment?"
"One night of my brother's poor judgment should not be enough to ruin my life," Nathaniel said.
"It will hardly ruin your life if we are being fair," his father said softly. "Your brother is the heir. With each son he fathers you are further and further away from a title. Your marriage prospects are already limited."
"I should at least marry a werewolf and be guaranteed to father were-children," Nathaniel said though he immediately wished he had not.
"Just like I was?"
"You know I did not mean any such thing by that," Nathaniel said. Mercy being a non-were had been the bane of their father's existence. It was not unheard of. There had been one other instance in Wolstenholme history where a pack alpha fathered a non-were child but it had been assumed by everyone that the wife was a philanderer. His father had to accept that either he had fathered a non-were child or his wife had made a cuckold of him. Nathaniel did not believe his mother had ever been unfaithful. He had few memories of her but from what his father and brother had shared of her he believed she was a dutiful and faithful wife.
"I know that there is a woman in the next room who very well might be carrying my first grandson. I cannot ignore that. If you marry her then there is a chance the child in her is a were-child and that any other children you have will be were-children as well. You know I do not like this. I would much rather you find a nice she-wolf to marry but I also will not turn my back on my blood nor let my first grandchild be born a bastard. Your mother's ghost would haunt me to an early grave if I did that."
Nathaniel looked down at his shoes for a long moment before lifting his head and giving a slow nod. His father was right. There was only one choice that could be made.
"I will marry her."
His father was not wrong. There was honor at stake. There also was blood. The woman might be nothing but a trollop but that did not change the fact that the child she was carrying might well be a Wolstenholme and if the girl was carrying a Wolstenholme baby there would be hell to pay from the ghosts of his ancestors if they did not care for one of their own. Even cousins far removed lived on their land and served in their house because that was what family did. Especially were-family.
Besides, the only woman he really wanted was Vivian and it was clear she had no interest at all in him nor should she. She would end up married to an heir, not someone who would yearly grow further and further from a title as more and more nephews were born.
"Then it is settled," his father said. Nathaniel followed him back to the drawing room where the girl was still looking down at her dress or perhaps the bulge of her stomach where some child grew.
"Your daughter will marry my younger son. He has no title and almost no hope of ever getting one so I hope you understand that if this was some trick to marry
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