Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

65 - Chapter LXV: Trouble in Threes

Seven years later.

For the first time in her sixteen years, Hannah Marie Louise Cavendish felt as though she had arrived. She was seated on a hard-backed settee in the grand entry-hall of a stately house just under twenty miles from Oppenheim. Officially, second to the Berlin Den. However, unofficially, first, as everyone knew precisely who lived there and therefore made every attempt at infiltrating its societal boundaries. Or at least, that was what her mother, Lady Cavendish, had whispered to her father, Lord Cavendish, before the two of them had passed, stiff-backed and formal, through the doors to the drawing room.

Unfortunately, none of this was important to Matthias who had taken to pinching her, while trying to get a reaction. She flicked his hand away irritably, still trying to see through the doors. Determined to see something, given how long it had taken her to convince their mother that it was indeed the lycan-master's ward who had left a calling card the previous afternoon, thereby warranting the more formal call in the evening. As it was, they would not meet unless both the lycan-master and Baroness Hermann, the lady's chaperone, found the acquaintance acceptable.

Of course, it was while they were trying to get a glimpse through the western doors that the man himself came striding down the massive staircase, his back lit by the glow of candles. Dressed for some engagement or another, his suit complemented by a sprig of lavender. He stopped to look in a mirror, checking his beard for what appeared to be symmetry, and then turned his head back towards the staircase. Flipping open a golden pocket-watch and then shutting it.

"Nette," he barked.

It was a daunting bellow.

One that had little consideration for decorum or the sound of a teacup being dropped in the drawing room. His voice dropping to an unintelligibly terse mutter as he continued walking. Simultaneously trying to fasten his cufflinks and leave. Pacing down the length of the entryway, scowling through the windows, turning back to the staircase, and...

...very abruptly, taking stock of them. The similarity of their scents seeming to have thrown him for a moment. Grey eyes sizing them up, squinting in thought and then pointing in question. "Twins?"

She closed her mouth. "Yes, sir."

"Fascinating."

He seemed to have no concern over who they were nor why they were sitting in his entryway. Already turning away, he flipped open his watch again, yelled the name a second time-"Nette!" And then proceeded to stalk out his front door.

A moment later, they heard the swift pitter-patter of feet on the staircase. The brief sight of a hooded woman hurrying past them. The front door shut and the sound of a carriage hurtling away on the cobblestones.

o...o...o

Two months later.

It was only by chance that Hannah saw them again. Their acquaintance with Sabine something that eventually resulted quite satisfactorily in several more afternoon teas followed by an invitation to dine. The Rumour was that representatives from at least two other dens would be making an appearance that evening, hence the reason Lord and Lady Cavendish allowed her to attend with the express instruction that Matthias would be her chaperone; however upon their arrival, it was made known to them that Sabine was temporarily indisposed by Change-a fact that one maid quite unfortunately disclosed before the housekeeper hushed her. And as Baroness Herrmann was now occupied with her charge, they found themselves led not to the drawing room where they so typically found themselves, but a sitting room where they were introduced and instructed to wait.

The presence of the lycan-master reading a newspaper in his own sitting room somehow overshadowed by the presence of the mysterious woman they had seen on the staircase. An exile by her scent. Someone she'd expected to be a mistress, based on what she'd learned-or that is to say, scavenged-after rescuing the last page of her mother's Line Rumour from the fireplace, combing it for gossip, and then immediately burning it again, as any upper-class lycan-lady was wont to do.