✓ | Hushed Whispers ⋆ Will Herondale [2]

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: TALKATIVE

◤Adorable. Charlotte, I must insist they stay. What a lovely couple they make. See how his dark hair sets off her pale skin. And their eyes! Oh, their eyes! It's like the sea meets the land-◢

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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: TALKATIVE

WOOLSEY Scott's eyes were patiently taking in the sight of Marie Wayland. He examined her the way a painter would watch his model, inspecting the way her body curved and lips tugged. He looked at her hair, noting if there was an escaped lock that he could pinpoint.

Will hated every second of it. Tall and slender, with shiny blonde hair, Scott was the man women would swoon over. He wore a velvet jacket and a scarf was tied around his neck, making Will wonder in how many ways he could strangle him if he continued staring at Marie as if she were going to fall in love with him. Because she most certainly wasn't.

"Adorable," he stated with a smile on his face. "Charlotte, I must insist they stay. What a lovely couple they make. See how his dark hair sets off her pale skin. And their eyes! Oh, their eyes! It's like the sea meets the land-"

Will didn't expect to hear that, but he wasn't necessarily eager to deny the werewolf's assumption. It was better if he thought they were together; that way he wouldn't get the permission of sweet-talking with his woman.

Marie glanced at Will sideways, rising her eyebrows as a sly smirk appeared on her face. "Mr. Scott," she said. "You're very kind, but-"

"I want to hear nothing else," his arms flew around his frame as he took a seat in an armchair. "If you are not together, let me live in an illusion. Although, I must say that if you were to deny any connection between the two of you, I wouldn't believe you, Miss Wayland. Charlotte, ring for some tea. I'm parched."

Charlotte shook her head in defeat, gesturing to Will and Marie that they were to sit down as well. She then went to call for Bridget.

With a grin on his face, Woolsey adjusted his scarf. "And where are young Mr. Carstairs and Miss Gray? He's such an adorable boy. Such interesting coloring. And so talented on the violin. Of course, I've heard Garcin himself play at the Paris Opera, and after that, well, everything simply sounds like coal dust scraping the eardrums. Pity about his illness." He sighed. "And the shape-shifter? I am eager to hear about that."

Charlotte, entering the room again, smoothed her skirts as she took a seat. "In a way, that's what I wanted to speak to you about-"

"Oh, no, no, no." The blonde werewolf reached in his pocket, searching for an item. Then, he extended his hand in Charlotte's direction. "No serious discussion, please, until I've had my tea and a smoke. Egyptian cigar? They're the finest available."

"No, thank you," Charlotte responded politely, but her face was painted in the colors of horror.

Woolsey shrugged his shoulders, effortlessly preparing his cigar. "Now," he began. "Tell me how you've been, Charlotte, darling. And that abstracted husband of yours. Still wandering around the crypt inventing things that blow up?"

"Sometimes," answered Will, "they're even supposed to blow up."

With a rattle of silver plate and the finest set of tea cups and trays, Bridget entered the room. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Branwell," she said as her eyes glanced at the people that occupied the room. "I thought there was only going to be two for tea-"