WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,23

he will be a man who will treat me as an equal, not as a possession.”

“Then he will be a unique man, indeed.”

“Mayhap I shall find him, someday,” she said. “I only hope I am still young enough to enjoy it.”

He looked at her, thinking that she was perhaps being suggestive in that comment, but she just started giggling. She was absolutely charming, opinions and all, and he grinned at her.

“As beautiful as you are, I am sure you will have no trouble at all,” he said. “If I come across such a man, I will send him your way. Where shall I send him?”

“London,” she said flatly. “I do not intend to remain in the north any longer than necessary.”

“Did you come here for a purpose?”

She nodded, spooning more tart into her mouth. “My father was unwell,” she said. “He sent word and asked that I come to visit him, so I did. But he is much better these days and I wish to return to London.”

“You do not like it with the barbarians of the north, I take it?”

She shrugged. “As I said, I like it much better in London,” she said. “Life in the north is too provincial for me. I need the excitement of the city.”

“And the filth,” he said pointedly. “And the thieves and the beggars and the crime. Why in the world should that excite you so?”

A smile creased her lips as she picked at her tart. “It just does,” she said. “There is more opportunity for a woman of ingenuity there.”

“What do you mean?”

She stopped picking and eyed him. “May I tell you a secret?”

“If you wish.”

“You must promise never to tell anyone.”

“I swear it.”

She leaned towards him, lowering her voice. “Those dramas I spoke of?” she said. “It is against the law for women to act in them, and no decent woman would write one, but I have written several. The dramas I go to see are my own.”

He looked at her, surprised. “I see,” he said. “And no one knows this?”

She shook her head. “I write dramas under a man’s name,” she said. “It is so very foolish that I must conceal my name, but to openly participate in drama would bring condemnation against me and my family. It is unfortunate that I cannot be free and honest about who I am, but the truth is that I cannot. It is only acceptable for men to write and act in dramas. So, I write the dramas and give them to my friend, who is an actor. He and his friends perform them.”

“What name do you write under?”

“Wellesley Fairhurst.”

Tor sat back in his chair, his gaze glimmering with mirth. “Now I understand why you love London so much,” he said. “You can be an anonymous playwright.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you make any money from this secret life?”

She nodded. “A little,” she said. “It is money I stash away so that I can marry any man I choose because I can offer my own dowry.”

He snorted. “I thought you said you did not care about marriage?”

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed. “I suppose that’s not really true.”

His smile broadened. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

She shook her head firmly. “Nay,” she said. “But I know he will be worldly and educated and like to travel.”

“No provincial knights for you, then.”

“There is nothing wrong with provincial knights,” she insisted. “But my father is a merchant, as was his father before him. When I was young, I traveled with my father and I suppose that is why I like the bigger cities. Even as a child, there were so many interesting things to see there. I could never be happy in the wilds of England or France because provincial lords are content with their boring lives. I could never be content with such a thing.”

Something she said gave Tor pause. “Your father is a merchant?”

“Aye.”

“What is his name?”

“Gilbert de Featherstone.”

Tor’s heart sank. He had no idea Steffan de Featherstone even had a sister, a woman he just spent a wonderful hour with. She was bright and curious and vivacious, and he had enjoyed his time with her immensely.

A woman whose brother he had killed.

In truth, he was a little confused. He had enjoyed his time with her, that is true, but there was never a thought of anything beyond that enjoyment. His thoughts had not wandered to seeing her again or a more permanent arrangement, like courting her, because of his feelings for Jane. He had spent almost