“For the children, Rumpet,” explained Adelphus, as if this should be perfectly obvious.
The unflappable Rumpet appeared rather flapped at that statement. “But sir! I’m tolerably certain infants should not imbibe beverages of the inebriatory variety. Terribly bad for the constitution.”
“Oh, not to drink, my man, simply to make the place smell nice.” Rafe’s brown eyes crinkled in amusement.
Feeling that this was unfair on the butler and tantamount to teasing the household staff, which was the very height of rudeness, Lyall was moved to interject, “Perhaps you and the servants would like to partake yourselves?”
Rumpet gave him a grateful look. “If you insist, sir, that’s very thoughtful and festively minded of you. But I shouldn’t like it to become a habit.”
“Oh, Rumpet, don’t be silly, this is only for the holidays.” Zev seemed on board with the general scheme to festoon the household in vegetative matter and fermented-fruit smells.
Lyall was pleased to see him engaged. Zev had confessed that he’d been feeling a little forlorn of late. Apparently, the idea of holiday celebrations cheered up everyone, even werewolves.
“And there’s always the clavigers, they’ll drink anything.” Adelphus pointed out the obvious.
Actors.
Rumpet looked mollified but no less confused.
“And we’ll need evergreens as well,” said Rafe. “Maybe even a tree.”
Rumpet’s mouth twisted. “That’s awfully European, sir.”
“And what about a Yule log?” Ulric added.
“For the nippers. Think of the nippers.” Hemming again.
“It’s your drawing room, sirs.”
Biffy stood at this juncture, which meant everyone else fell silent.
Rumpet looked grateful.
Lyall could almost hear him thinking, Finally, a voice of reason.
“Why don’t we go easy for now, Rumpet? Just some spiced and roasted apples for the pudding course at supper later tonight – that will help make the house smell nice. The evergreen boughs seem like a good idea regardless, something to celebrate the season. I’ll collect some ribbon to tie them up with, from the hat shop.”
Lyall smiled to himself. For certainly Biffy would never let anyone else choose the color of ribbons meant to drape over his banisters.
“For the rest, we shall see how things lie next week, hum? It’s not Christmas yet, after all. Thank you for your time, Rumpet. Perhaps a little more tea?”
Relieved that things had been made clear by the Alpha, Rumpet bowed. “Certainly, my lord. Right away.” He practically dashed from the room.
“Are we keeping them? I think we should keep them.” Hemming finished his breakfast and pushed the plate away so he could lean forward intently on his elbows, blue eyes pleading.
Lyall considered reprimanding him for posture. But really, why bother? Hemming wasn’t going to change the habit of two lifetimes.
Biffy arched a perfect brow. “Keeping the pine boughs? Of course we are. Well, until they dry out.”
“The nippers!” said Hemming.
“Please, Alpha, can’t we keep them? They’re so cute!” Quinn tried to look and sound winsome. On a quizzically browed six-foot-plus werewolf, this was as odd as a snake wearing shoes.
Biffy rolled his eyes. “We can’t simply keep two babies, even if someone did leave them on our doorstep.”
A chorus of why nots met that statement.
Biffy’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not done. And I’ll hear no more on it!”
Crestfallen looks all around. Even from Ulric, whom Lyall had thought aloof in the matter of infant impositions.
Lyall sighed, and went to provide support, like any good Beta. “See here, gentlemen. They must belong to someone, you understand? They need to be returned to their rightful owners, or what have you.”
In an effort to move them on, he added, “The Alpha and I have discussed this matter” – a slight inclination of Biffy’s head and Lyall continued – “and we feel it necessary to spend tonight hunting for the parental relations. Most of you can be spared from your regular duties for one night. I’ve drawn up a list of places around Greenwich worthy of our attention. Also, I think it best if two of us attend service this evening. It had better be you, Adelphus and Phelan.”
Lyall chose them because, quite frankly, they cut the best leg and were the most toff of the pack. Adelphus could come over too arrogant, but he looked a fine dandy in his Sunday best, and was almost regal when sitting in a pew.
Lyall might be recently returned to London, but he’d decades with this pack under other Alphas, and both Adelphus and Phelan knew (without his having to tell them) why they’d been chosen to pray first.
“If you can, after, try to track down this other religious group that the pastor was muttering about? I want the lay of the land. How they react to you two, as werewolves, will give a good indication of general attitude. Let’s hope we aren’t dealing with one of those militant types that likes to stand on top of pulpits and throw things. So unseemly. If we have a Dark Ages issue, or worse, some kind of Sundower sympathizers, better we know it now.”
Looking slightly more grave, the two nodded.
Lyall continued. “Hemming and Rafe, you’re touring the taverns and pubs. I know, quite the hardship. But try to remember we are after information. Anything pertaining to missing children. Any other abandoned infants turning up? Or is it just our doorstep? Ask after the history of this house. Perhaps it used to be an orphanage or hospital or charitable organization before we moved in.
“Quinn, I’ve got you down for tradesmen and the like. Grocers, butchers, and so forth. Ask Cook who has our accounts, visit them first. Then do the others. Wave the carrot of a possible switch to encourage goodwill. Ulric, you’re on the high-end stuff, jewelers, pawn shops, dressmakers. Remember we’re after information, not pocket watches. No, you can’t draw on the pack accounts, so don’t bother to ask. And Zev, you know where that leaves you?”
Zev nodded, smiling. “Entertainment, in all its many forms.”
“Well, don’t go wild. Our clavigers have the local musical halls and theaters covered, but there are other forms of amusement. Gaming hells, brothels, molly houses.”
Zev had a sweet boyish face, open and honest and clean-shaven with big dark eyes and outrageous lashes. He could use it all to very good effect, particularly the lashes. As a result, he was remarkably effective in the worst parts of London.
Biffy’s lip curled. “Really, Professor, we are in Greenwich, not Bethnal Green!”
Lyall gave him a blank, unconcerned look. Knowing the Alpha found this annoying. Well, mostly he found it annoying – once, he had found it something more. A temptation and a taunt. I simply want to ruffle you up, Alpha, disturb you, make you feel something. “There are still docks here, Alpha. And we don’t have Riehard.”
Biffy relented. “Curse the man. The one time we really do need his particular brand of assistance.”
Lyall nodded. “When is he due back, again?” This question was directed at the pack, since Riehard had left before Lyall returned.
“Should be within the next few days,” volunteered Zev. “You know he doesn’t like to be away for more than two weeks, and always returns before full moon.”
Biffy nodded. “As he should.”
Riehard was their most elusive pack-mate. Lyall had once wondered why he even bothered with a pack at all. Until Lyall realized, with the life Riehard Tiklebark led, he needed the pack more than most. More than Channing, more than Biffy – more, even, than I. Riehard was tethered so loosely to reality, he needed a strong tether to an Alpha or he would drift and become a danger to society and himself. Lyall hoped fervently that Biffy could hold him. Riehard was many things – redhead, blond, and brunet in the space of one evening, for example – but he was also an asset.
But for now, they would have to hunt without him.
Biffy tilted his head at Lyall. “And what of you and I, my Beta?”
Lyall suppressed a smile at the claiming tone. “Visiting hours, I’m afraid, with the local gentry.”