“I am quite well,” Gillian said with as much dignity as she could muster.
“In that case, why don’t you come downstairs and make yourself comfortable? I—” She stopped as a man walked through the front door. “Here’s Grif now.”
The gentleman who entered the hall was roughly Ross’s age and height, with dark hair, golden eyes and handsome features…far more classically handsome than Ross’s rugged contours. Gillian wasn’t certain that she would have recognized him as a werewolf if she hadn’t known beforehand; she had sensed something when she’d first entered the house, but aside from Ross, she’d met few strangers who had turned out to be werewolves.
Griffin Durant’s face registered surprise as he saw Ross and Gillian; he set down the suitcases he had brought inside and continued on to the staircase.
“Ross!” he said with obvious pleasure. “I didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”
“Yeah,” Ross said. “Like I told Allie, I didn’t know you were coming back today.”
“Completely understandable.” Durant’s eyes reflected the same curiosity Allie had shown, but he remained cordially reserved as he looked up at Gillian. “May I be introduced?”
“Mrs. Delvaux,” Ross said, “this is my friend Griffin Durant. Grif, this is Mrs. Gillian Delvaux.”
Griffin reached the landing. “How do you do, Mrs. Delvaux?”
This time Gillian offered her hand first. “Very well, thank you, Mr. Durant. May I present my son, Tobias?”
“Tobias. Pleased to meet you.”
Toby stared at Mr. Durant. “Do you belong to the New York pack?”
Durant glanced at Ross, who buried his hands in his trouser pockets. “As I was telling Allie,” Ross said, “Toby and Mrs. Delvaux have only been in the States a short time and aren’t familiar with the setup here. Loups-garous do things differently in England.”
“A fascinating subject, I’m sure,” Allie said, “but I’m still starving. Let’s go downstairs.”
Griffin stood aside to let the women precede him. Gillian hung back.
“If you will excuse me for a few moments…” she said, and ushered Toby into the room she’d chosen for him.
“Toby,” she said, “listen carefully. You are not to mention anything to the Durants about your relationship to Mr. Kavanagh, or about what happened at Coney Island. Nor are you to quiz Mrs. Durant about her…particular constitution.”
Toby understood her readily enough, but his jaw set in incipient rebellion. “You don’t want anyone to know that Ross is my father.”
“The matter is private and of no concern to people we have just met, even if they are Mr. Kavanagh’s friends.”
“Then what do you want me to say?”
“You know how to hold a civil conversation.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “I trust you to use good judgment. You may answer general questions about England and what you have observed in America. Say nothing about the method by which you arrived. I am simply an acquaintance of Mr. Durant’s, and we are here on holiday.”
“What if Father tells them the truth?”
“I believe—” dear God, let it be so “—that he will also prefer to keep our private affairs confidential.”
“Your mother is right,” Ross said, walking into the room. “We won’t say anything to embarrass her, will we?”
Gillian listened for sarcasm in his voice and heard none. When he offered her his arm, she took it, well aware that he could make things very unpleasant if he chose to do so. His tacit promise to hide their secret only strengthened the emotions with which she’d struggled ever since he’d taken such trouble to protect her and Toby from the intrusive interest of the crowd.
It had taken more effort than she would have supposed to meet Ross’s mocking feints with appropriately composed answers, both in the hotel and at the amusement park. She had wavered constantly between despising him and—to her shame—wanting desperately to be near him. Only his sarcastic manner and biting questions had kept her leaning toward the former.
But his behavior had changed completely from the moment she had tried to help the boy. His support had been immediate. He had realized—all too well, as she had just discovered—how much she wanted to avoid the public notice her actions had attracted. He had been very much the gentleman then, as if he felt he owed her his protection.
Of course he didn’t, just as he didn’t owe her the compliments he’d paid her a few minutes ago.
She continued down the stairs at his side, concentrating on moving with the dignity and grace that were expected of her, letting such simple thoughts create a barrier between her keen physical awareness and the necessities of her position. She must overcome her attraction, for Toby’s sake. Dependence upon Ross’s assistance while she remained in New York would hardly persuade Toby to leave the father he had just met, and her memories…
Ah, her memories. They were the greatest obstacle of all. Vivid recollections of her affair with Ross, feeding the unwelcome reactions that overwhelmed her when she was in his presence, whenever she touched him.
Thank God Ross hadn’t sensed her emotions. He certainly didn’t share them. He’d shown no sign that his feelings for her went beyond the same natural gallantry that had been so much a part of his nature when she had met him. Still, the bitterness and wounded pride she had seen in him during their conversation at the hotel seemed to have given way to a far more sympathetic attitude.
Unless his softening was no more than a new tactic to throw her off her guard. The possibility seemed more likely as she considered it, and it was all she could do not to remove her arm from the crook of his elbow.
If he really did intend to use this new method of attack, she must under no circumstances let him think he had succeeded.
Determined not to reveal the grim nature of her thoughts, Gillian joined the Durants in a pleasant room plainly but comfortably furnished in a rustic American mode very much at odds with the Georgian style of the house itself. Allie pulled back the heavy drapes to reveal French doors that opened onto a well-kept garden, now cloaked in darkness.
“Please, sit,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do you want anything, Grif?”
“Not at the moment, thanks,” her husband said. He waited until Gillian and Toby had taken their seats on the sofa and went to the sideboard standing against one wall. “Would you care for a drink, Mrs. Delvaux? Ross?”
Ross shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” Gillian said.
“I don’t drink myself,” Durant said. He took one of the armchairs. “I was unaware that Ross had friends in England, Mrs. Delvaux,” he said, his posture relaxed but alert. “I hope your visit to America has been pleasant thus far.”
Gillian prepared herself to tell the necessary lies. “I find your country to be very interesting, Mr. Durant,” she said.
“We went to Coney Island today,” Toby piped in.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Immensely. We went into the Dragon’s Gorge and then on the Aerial Swing.” He bit his lip, eyed Gillian and fell silent.
“Mrs. Delvaux volunteered as a nurse at the hospital in London where I recovered after the War,” Ross said. “We became friends. I wrote to her a few times after I returned to America. We lost touch, but she looked me up when she came to the States on holiday with her brother.”
He didn’t look at Gillian, but she understood his ploy. He was protecting her “honor” by revealing