Lady of the Night

Chapter 1

London, 1854

Blackwood Manor

In the wee hours of the night…

"You need to marry."

Upon hearing his father's words, Tyler fought the urge to let out a groan, knowing exactly where the conversation was going.

"You're twenty-seven, and I'm old," his father continued. "And I long for the day where I'd get to hold a grandchild in my arms."

Tyler was looking straight, away from his father the Duke of Blackwood's gaze, and kept his face impassive.

"Do not make me so desperate Tyler, or you'd be betrothed to a lady of my choosing, and you won't be able to do anything about it."

The Duke, Andrei Hoechlin, stood from his king sized chair and walked towards a portrait of a lady. He stopped the moment he was in front of it and looked up, his eyes gazed lovingly at the beautiful woman whose black hair and piercing dark blue eyes looked exactly like her only son.

As Tyler watched his father touch the portrait carefully, as if he was afraid to give it even a slight scratch, his chest tightened. The Duke was never a soft man. His big hands can break a neck effortlessly. He's also not careful with the things he touches, saying that they are nothing that he could not replace. The only time Tyler sees the duke touch things carefully are when he holds things that had once belonged to his wife.

"I promised Marie," Andrei said, still looking up at his late wife. "I promised your mother. Don't let me meet her there bringing only the stories of your mischiefs and nothing about your wife and children."

At this point, Tyler could no longer remain silent. "You know you cannot force me to marry just anyone father," he said. "I have a destined mate, and until I meet her, it is only fair that I remain unmarried."

Andrei let out a sigh and suddenly looked tired. For a duke and an alpha werewolf, that should not be considered possible. But the longing in Andrei's eyes was unmistakeable. Tyler knew his father misses his wife immensely, and it wouldn't be long before he follows her.

Werewolves rarely live without their mate, and when they do, they don't last that long. Tyler had always thought that love was an understatement when it comes to werewolves. Watching his parents over the years, he realized that it's more than what he perceived. There's an invisible bond that connected them together, even after the other one had left.

His mother, Lady Marie, wasn't the submissive duchess or wife that she should be. She was Andrei's conscience. She was his best friend. She was his partner. And together, they were a perfect team. Tyler could do more worse than follow what they had.

Unusual though it may seem on the eyes of the gentry, to the werewolf pack, Lady Marie served as the respected and feared right hand of their alpha. She deserved it, Tyler thought. She was nothing but kind to everyone, that's why everyone adored her. But when one of the packs, or their wives and children were harmed, nothing could ever stop her from making sure that the culprit was punished.

But through everything that she is and is not, Andrei just loved her. He still loves her. Everything the duke has been doing since she died five years ago is things that the duchess would have wanted. And Tyler's unmarried state is one of them, and probably the last thing that the duke has yet to accomplish.

"You don't know how much I prayed that your mate would just show herself and let you find her," Andrei said, turning to his son. "And that I wish it would be easy for you as it was easy for me to find your mum. One night I was just standing inside a party, ready to leave, when I suddenly felt a sharp pain on my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. Good thing Todd was there to calm me down before I turned and made a spectacle of myself, or scare the ton— whichever would have come first." He paused and grinned at the memory. "But then I saw her, your mum, and imagine my luck when she was already looking at me as if I was some kind of lunatic." He then released a fit of amused chuckles.

Tyler couldn't help but smile at the amusing story which he heard for countless of times, both from her mother and father. Although his uncle Todd's version was more amusing.

"It didn't take me long to ask her to marry me. She felt what I felt that night, too," Andrei continued. "I honestly don't know the process of choosing your mate because if I do, I would have told you. But alas, I know nothing about it. Mine wasn't even really a process at all; it just happened."

"At a very unexpected moment," Tyler added.

Andrei grinned, showing a glimpse of his once young self. "Indeed."

Tyler looked at his father. "You may not believe me but I understand father. I do. But you must also know that I cannot just pick some random lady and marry her because it was what mum wanted. She would have wanted for me to have what you two had."

Andrei walks back to sit on his chair then stares at his son with thoughtful eyes. He's being just the father now, not the Duke or the alpha, Tyler thought. It was in the way he leaned back relaxingly against the chair, like he was allowing him to do or speak whatever it was in his mind. In some other time, especially when they are not alone, Andrei would regard him as the future duke or alpha. Tonight, he was just Andrei Hoechlin's son.

"You are right of course," Andrei said. "But there is one secret thing in finding your destined mate."

Tyler frowned curiously. "And what is it?"

Andrei shrugged as if it was already obvious. "You have to let yourself be found. Because if you do not open yourself up, you might find it hard to recognize her, not even if she was standing right in front of you."

London, 1854

Lord Brunswick's House

In the early hours of the morning…

"Bloody muffin."

Dylan O'Brien lifted his eyes from the newspaper and looked at Lady Rae who was scowling at the muffin she was eating using her hands. Her fork and knife were left unused beside her plate.

"You have to behave yourself. You can't walk like you're in a hurry. You can't talk to someone you haven't been properly introduced with."

Dylan's eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched her mutter to herself. It was clear that she had just been scolded.

"I. Am. Not. A. Child," Lady Rae said angrily with every bite off her muffin. Soon enough, it was gone, and she picked up another from the basket in front of her.

"Tell me," Dylan said, "Who was it this time?"

Rae merely glanced at him for a moment before returning her attention to her food. "Allie," she muttered.

Dylan chuckled. "Your sister is ruthless. But I expected no less, really. It's clear that marriage life hadn't changed her that much."

"Sheesheevnmworroothleshnahw."

Dylan stared at her as she tried to speak knowing there's still food in her mouth. "Didn't Aunt Tammy ever tell you not to talk when your mouth is full?"

Rae chewed off the last of her muffin and swallowed it down with her tea before she turned her full attention to her childhood friend. "I said, she's even more ruthless now. Didn't Aunt Amanda ever teach you manners?" She then looked at his propped feet on the table in disgust. "Put that down or that awful English governess will see you and give us that look again."

Dylan did as what he was told. "She will never change her mind about the two of us anyway. Why worry? Besides, she looks at everyone, whose manners she doesn't approve of, like an ill-bred American."

"I know, but we're just Americans and not ill-bred."

"Ah, but you are both."

Rae balled her table napkin and threw it at his face. Dylan almost fell down the chair from laughing too much.

"Why you came here all the way from America will forever be a mystery to me," Rae said.

"Are you serious?" he asked, folding the newspaper and putting it down the table. "You came here to haunt a husband—" Rae glared at him "—alright, I'm sorry, I meant hunt—"

"—you better."

"—and you expect me to let this amusing opportunity to see you desperately try come to pass?" he continued. "I would never miss this for the world!"

Rae rolled her eyes. "I hate you, did you know that? You're the reason why I failed to catch Mr. Trevelstam last night."

Dylan made a faked look of surprise. "Me? What did I do besides saved you?"

"We were talkingand you interrupted," Rae reasoned out.

"He had his left arm wrapped around your waist and you were letting him," Dylan argued. "How many times do I have to remind you that we are not in America anymore? You cannot let a stranger hold you like that. Little things that are friendly to us back there are considered scandalous here. If you had let him treat you like that for another minute, he would have assumed that you want to end up in his bed. You should have known better."

Rae opened her mouth to protest but closed it back and picked up another muffin. "What did you want me to do?" She asked. "He's cute."

"He's a rake, the worst kind of all. You shouldn't let yourself be acquainted with such men." Dylan shook his head at her in disappointment and poured tea on his cup. He took a sip and grimaced. "Eugh! I really don't know how you can stand this thing. I wish I would have taken a few packs of coffee with me." But since he was thirsty, he took another sip.

Rae chuckled as he grimaced again. "Good for you," she said. "I hope you'll never get used to the taste of tea."

"Or lack thereof," Dylan added. "Anyway, I think I should practice though. Who knows, some English heiress might fall in love with me? Imagine how proud my parents would be."

Nobody would ever look at Dylan and say that what he said was impossible, Rae thought. Especially not when they learn how wealthy his family is back in America, with their ship company and grape farm in Boston.

It is said that their ancestry goes far back to the Middle Age of wealthy Irish and Scottish royal ancestors. Dylan's father was a duke himself but was raised in America by his widowed mother who was of Scottish decent. Rae had learned long ago that when you are a Scot, the title and wealth doesn't just pass down to the next male heir, instead it was passed on to the next heir, regardless if they were male or female.

Sometimes she wished she was a Scot instead. Having English blood and an American attitude seemed to be the worst sort of combination of all. She wouldn't mind living as a spinster if she cannot find someone she likes enough to marry, but when she told her sister Allison about it, she said it was never included on their list of choices. Allie once said that not one woman in their family was unmarried, and she (Rae) wasn't going to be the first one.

"You men are lucky. You're allowed to pick whomever you choose, unlike us women," she mused. "I just wish that somebody would choose me as soon as possible. Waiting is such a tedious job."

Dylan chuckled at Rae, putting his hands on the back of his head, exactly like an ill-bred American, according to the governess. "Rae," he said, "You forget that you've already been chosen."

Her brows rose. "By whom?"

"Why, by me of course. Because if I do not choose you, I'm afraid, if not fairly sure, that no one else will," he said, in which made Rae laugh. "You will thank me someday."

She shook her head, smiling in amusement. "Keep dreaming, my friend."

Dylan broke out into his crooked grin.