2. Unexpected Guests

The gathering at Sir James's was well-attended, with scarcely a seat to be found by the time the Graham family arrived. Will was greeted immediately by Beverly, and they sought a quiet corner of the drawing room from which to observe the various groupings with lively commentary. One interaction was of particular interest: Alana had been commandeered by Miss Verger and Mrs Cordell almost from the moment of her arrival and seated between them, though Will noted with satisfaction that most of the conversation seemed to be unfolding between Alana and Miss Verger.

Usually preferring to avoid large gatherings – and the occasionally obnoxious attentions of unfamiliar Alphas – Will had on this particular occasion agreed to make an exception only because Alana had entreated him to accompany her for moral support.

'That will require me to be sociable,' he had scowled, prompting a pleading look from his elder sister. 'Oh, very well. Just this once.'

Trepidation had made him unusually morose on the drive over, but walking into the drawing room he had picked up almost immediately on that strangely familiar earthy scent and felt his pounding heartbeat hitch before gradually slowing to its usual regular beat. It was Hannibal Lecter, of course – Will had quickly spotted him over on the far side of the room, engrossed in conversation with Mr Verger – and oh, how vexing it was that among all the Alphas present, it was that rude man's scent which dominated and drew him. And calmed him. But once he was satisfied that the Alpha was taking not a jot of notice of him, Will had allowed himself finally to relax fully and actually enjoy the evening.

'I believe that Alana is falling in love,' he confided to Beverly, as they watched his sister laugh delightedly at something Miss Verger had whispered to her, 'and I could not be happier for her. She has taken care of the rest of us for far too long, and I hope she will allow herself the freedom now to enjoy this.'

'Hm. She should secure Miss Verger's affections as soon as may be,' declared Beverly. 'There will be then be leisure enough for falling in love.'

'What an extraordinary statement!'

'Why?'

Will raised expressive brows at Beverly's cool response. 'Let us begin with the fact that they have known each other for all of three weeks.'

'Very well. But let us then consider the fact that, as a Beta, dearest Alana would be in a precarious position should Miss Verger chance upon an unmated Omega.'

'I am an unmated Omega,' Will reminded her crossly, taking care nevertheless to keep his voice low.

'And we must thank providence that neither of you is attracted to the other,' pronounced Beverly, entirely unruffled. 'But Alana may not be so lucky the next time. No, she should leave Miss Verger in no doubt as to her feelings.'

Will stared at her, still unsure whether she was in jest. 'Before she is even sure of them herself?'

'Of course! Will, you have spent half of your life with your nose buried in a book and the other half out riding, shooting or fishing. My education has been somewhat narrower yet it makes me the expert in this particular field.'

'Meaning?'

'That, as a Beta, observing is what I do. So please believe me when I say that in nine cases out of ten, a person had better show more affection even than they feel if they wish to be sure of – landing their fish, so to speak.'

'Become the lure?'

'Exactly.'

'And if such a strategy lands them a poor catch because they are ignorant of what precisely lies beneath the waters?'

'Will, from what I have seen, happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance, no matter how it is brought about or what the secondary genders of either party may be.' For a moment, Beverly looked almost sad. 'Perhaps Thomas Gray was right and ignorance really is bliss.'

Will shook his head, smiling faintly. 'You make me laugh, Beverly. I do not for one moment believe that you truly subscribe to that philosophy.'

'Well, we could enlist the opinion of another,' suggested Beverly, somewhat mystifyingly.

'By all means. Do you have a suggestion?'

At that, Beverly lowered her own voice. 'Perhaps Mr Lecter? He has, after all, been eavesdropping on our entire conversation.'

'He has?' Taken aback, Will looked up and started when his gaze immediately connected with Hannibal Lecter's. The Alpha had detached himself from Mr Verger, and the discovery of his unexpected proximity caused Will's cheeks to heat. Chagrined, he looked instantly away again. 'What can he mean by it?'

'Ask him,' prompted Beverly mischievously, and Will lifted his chin.

'Very well, I shall. I am not afraid of his glowering.'

Hannibal had come to the party determined to prove Margot entirely mistaken in her insistence that there was anything at all admirable about William Graham. Yet, watching him converse in animated fashion with his friend, Hannibal had found himself riveted by the beautiful expression of those blue eyes, which shone with a vivacity he seldom saw in those of his own circle. A famous Omegan trait, of course, and one to which he was usually immune. But in the case of this particular Omega, whose intoxicating scent had caught his attention upon the instant the boy had stepped warily across the threshold, Hannibal was swiftly learning that he could not predict his own responses.

Lost in reverie, he was caught unawares when the object of his fascination appeared suddenly at his side looking less than thrilled.

'Did not you think, Mr Lecter, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now?'

Mindful of the unfortunate conclusion of their last encounter, yet determined to surrender no more ground to the difficult Omega, Hannibal hesitated a moment before replying.

'You were speaking of angling, though hopefully this time of the legitimate variety.'

'Did you just mock me?'

The boy folded his arms, looking torn between annoyance and reluctant amusement. Hannibal suppressed a smile.

'It was difficult to avoid.'

Before any rejoinder could be given, Sir James approached and clapped William Graham on the shoulder with so much enthusiasm, the boy almost staggered.

'My dear Will, your sister Molly has consented to play for the benefit of those who wish to dance. You will join them, I hope?'

'Oh yes, Will,' pressed Miss Price in a teasing manner, coming to stand at her father's side. 'Do join them.'

Absently noting the shortening of the boy's first name, Hannibal was about to excuse himself when Sir James addressed him with an expectant air.

'Mr Lecter, allow me to present this young man to you as a very desirable partner: Mr Graham of Wolf Manor.'

Unsure whether he or the boy was the more surprised, Hannibal bowed automatically and found himself saying, 'I would be pleased to be granted the honour of the first dance, Mr Graham.'

Dainty mouth falling open, Will Graham's reply was far less diplomatic. 'Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I do not find the pastime at all interesting.'

'Neither do I, in truth,' replied Hannibal, reluctant, for reasons passing his understanding, to let the matter drop. 'Yet my invitation stands.'

'There, Will, you see?' Sir James was positively hopping with glee, in a manner which Hannibal considered distinctly undignified in a person of his age and station. 'Mr Lecter has no objection to dancing with you, though he too dislikes the amusement in general.'

'Mr Lecter is all politeness.' And there it was again, that infernal smirk.

Before he could summon a suitable response, Hannibal found himself left to his own devices as Will Graham bowed stiffly and walked away, Sir James and his daughter following.

'What can you be thinking of? Let me guess,' drawled Mason from directly behind him.

'By all means,' murmured Hannibal, attention fixed still on Will Graham, who stood now by the pianoforte, engaged once again in conversation with Miss Price.

'You are considering with dread the passing of countless more evenings in the company of such common swine, yes?'

'No, my mind was more agreeably engaged,' countered Hannibal shortly, displeased by the indelicacy of Mason's language. 'I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in a pretty face can bestow.'

A telling pause followed, though Mason recovered rapidly enough to demand in a tone of forced lightheartedness, 'Indeed? And of whose eyes are you speaking?'

'Mr Graham.'

'Mr Graham!' repeated Mason, voice rising an octave. 'Why, Hannibal, when are we to wish you joy?'

Though covering his annoyance with a veneer of brittle humour, Mason was woefully easy to read. His growing partiality for his sister's dearest friend having been an open secret among their acquaintance for many months, it was nevertheless becoming tiresome, and Hannibal saw in Will Graham an excellent opportunity to quash it. That being said, he had no intention of being trapped inadvertently into any sort of ridiculous misunderstanding, and he chose his next words with care.

'Really, Mason, there is a great distinction between admiration and love; still more between love and matrimony. In this world, as you are well aware, the one has very little to do with the other.'

'No, no.' Stepping in front of Hannibal and blocking his view of the Omega – no doubt deliberately – Mason raised suggestive eyebrows. 'I consider the matter settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law; naturally she will be a regular guest at Ravenstag House.' Mason bared his teeth in what Hannibal fancied was meant to be a beguiling smile. 'And no matter Mr Graham’s doubtful heritage. He will, I am sure, produce tolerably attractive offspring. Surely worth the risk of scandal and dishonour. Leaning forward, Mason added in hushed tones, 'I have to tell you, Hannibal, I admire enormously your willingness to take such a gamble with the ancient Lecter bloodline.'

As Hannibal had no intention of taking any such gamble, he allowed Mason's wit to flow unchecked, though annoyance tightened his lips, and his nerves snapped tight. This he attributed to Mason's endless infernal droning rather than to the efficacy of his taunts; nevertheless, he took care to avoid Will Graham for the remainder of the evening.

***

On the morning of the eleventh of November, a letter arrived at the Graham residence addressed to Alana. It was from Miss Verger. Mrs Graham, in a flurry of excitement, demanded that it be read aloud, and her long-suffering eldest daughter immediately obliged.

'My dear Friend,

It has been shamefully long since we all saw each other, the weather having been too inclement for excursions (and the roof of our carriage being in dire need of mending), and if you do not consent to dine with us today, I fear my brother and sister and I shall fall to quarrelling dreadfully. Please come if it is convenient.

Yours ever,

Margot Verger.'

Alana's face was wreathed in smiles as she asked her mother, 'May I have the carriage?'

'No, my dear,' dismissed Mrs Graham instantly. 'You had better go on horseback, for it seems likely to rain, and then you must stay all night.'

Despite the mortified protests of both Alana and Will at such an outrageous scheme, their mother was not to be argued with. And Mr Graham, desirous only of the peace and solitude of his library, deferred to his wife's machinations with studied forbearance.

It did rain, huge drops lashing the windows all afternoon and well into the evening; and it became clear that even the elements had bowed to Mrs Graham's wishes, making it impossible for Alana to return that night. Will slept very little, concern for his sister's well-being preventing restful slumber; and when the next morning a note arrived from Alana, informing the family that she had fallen unwell and would be staying at Muskrat Hall for at least another day, he announced his intention to go to her.

'On Winston?' enquired his father, but Will shook his head.

'He needs shoeing again before I take him any great distance. No, I shall walk.'

'In all this dirt?' cried his mother, appalled. 'You will not be fit to be seen!'

'I will be fit to be seen by Alana, which is all that I care about,' retorted Will, and the matter was settled.

The day being unseasonably warm, and the three mile walk involving much jumping over stiles, wading through muddy fields and springing over puddles, Will was soon perspiring in his greatcoat. Halfway to the house, he gave in to the temptation to strip down to his shirt and breeches, bundling the discarded articles of clothing under his arm and resolving to make himself respectable again once Muskrat Hall was in view.

It was with a relieved sigh that he finally exchanged uneven meadow for tended lawn; and when just within sight of the house, he sank to the ground with a hot face and aching feet.

'Tell me, Mr Graham, do you have some particular objection to wearing clothes?'

Not again!

Hugging his knees to his chest, Will bit his lip, looked up into the stern face of Hannibal Lecter and endeavoured to think of something clever to say.

'I run hot.'

Oh well.

The Alpha frowned. 'I presume you have come to visit your sister.'

'I have.'

Awkwardly pulling on his crumpled waistcoat, Will wished ardently that the man towering over him with arms folded and boot tapping impatiently on the ground would at least grant him the consideration of looking away. But he continued to regard Will with the air of a scientist inspecting a particularly odd specimen.

'How is she?'

'She is not – that is to say –'

Will's heart lurched at the hesitance with which his question was met and he scrambled to his feet, anxiety dissipating his former state of self-consciousness.

'What? Is she very ill? Please tell me.'

Hannibal was silent for a few moments, torn between a deeply ingrained disapproval of the manner in which Will Graham cavorted – seemingly on a regular basis – around the countryside, and reluctant admiration for the glowing brilliancy which said cavorting had lent his complexion. Not to mention the alluring curve of his exposed throat, pulse fluttering beneath delicate skin at the base. But the worry clouding those blue eyes drew Hannibal's own gaze back up and prompted him to put aside all other considerations as he hastened to offer a more coherent reassurance.

'She has a fever and keeps to her room, but the apothecary has been sent for and I do not think there is significant cause for concern.'

The boy ran his hands through his hair and blew out a gust of breath. 'Thank you.' Tugging his lower lip between his teeth, he shook his head. 'Alana's constitution is strong but we should never have allowed her to attempt the journey on horseback in such weather.'

Unsure of how to respond to such unexpected openness, and distracted by the Omega's constant fidgeting, Hannibal indicated the path leading up to the house. 'It is this way. Allow me to take you to her.'

The rest of the journey was conducted in awkward silence, and Hannibal delivered the boy to his sister's room with a curt nod. Standing outside the door, he listened for a few moments to Miss Graham's hoarse exclamations of joy and her brother's affectionate responses, and thought with fondness – and some regret – of the sister he had left behind in London. He was pulled from his reverie by a plaintive cry of 'Please stay, Will' and frowned. The prospect of several days of enforced intimacy with the provoking wretch was not an appealing one.

The apothecary's visit was short but illuminating. Miss Graham had caught cold during her ride, and the treatment prescribed was rest and regular doses of strengthening draughts. Although Margot was eager to attend her, Hannibal was doubtful of the propriety of such a plan, given her growing attachment to the docile Beta. It was his wish to see Margot well-situated in her choice of spouse and, while bonding between Alphas and Betas was considered in general terms perfectly acceptable, for his dearest friend Hannibal wished something more.

The lesser of two evils was, therefore, to accede to Miss Graham's wish, that her brother might fill the role of nurse in Margot’s stead; and consequently a servant was dispatched to Wolf Manor to inform the Grahams of their son's intention to stay with his sister, and to bring back a supply of clothes.

***

A day's shooting did nothing to improve Hannibal's mood, having only Mason and Cordell for company. The former was in bad spirits throughout, for reasons which Hannibal could well surmise, while the latter complained constantly of the soreness of his head and the emptiness of his stomach.

'Is Mr Graham to join us?' asked a dour Mason as they all sat down to dinner, and Margot glared at him.

'Yes, of course. But he is occupied at present with Miss Graham - and you are not to say a word if he is late!'

'I have not the slightest intention of uttering one syllable more than is strictly necessary, I assure you,' huffed her brother.

The subject of their discussion arrived moments later, entering the dining parlour with, Hannibal thought with reluctant amusement, the air of one braced to face a firing squad. He had changed clothes, his own having arrived from Wolf Manor an hour since; and although his garb was somewhat plainer than that of the Muskrat Hall contingent, Hannibal had to admit that the simplicity of cut and colour – black and beige – suited the classic delicacy of his features.

Directed by Mason to sit beside Cordell at the furthest end of the table from Hannibal, the boy looked rather lost until Margot, seated opposite, greeted him kindly and enquired after Miss Graham.

'I fear she is unchanged,' he replied, adding with a grateful smile, 'but thankfully no worse. We are indebted to you for your kindness.'

'I am grieved that your poor sister suffers so,' said Mason, mouth full of pork. 'I cannot abide a cold. Indeed, I myself have suffered from several this season.'

'I too,' shuddered Mrs Cordell. 'Monstrous things. I am excessively wearied of them. Margot, dear, fumigation of the house may be a sensible precaution once Miss Graham is recovered.'

Hannibal winced inwardly. Conversation at the table was trial enough with these two, but to have their shallow self-centredness witnessed by Will Graham was oddly mortifying. To divert the attentions of the two opinionated Alphas from the boy whose lip was now curled in thinly veiled contempt, Hannibal engaged the duo in a lengthy account of his sister's most recent letter, and thus occupied them for the remainder of the meal.

After dinner the Omega, in predictably self-assured fashion – and without glancing at anyone save Margot – excused himself to return upstairs and sit with his sister. Annoyed by this obvious avoidance of his company, and irritated by his own annoyance, Hannibal paced the length of the drawing room in surly contemplation, while Mason and Mrs Cordell began a lengthy and enthusiastic diatribe on the many failings of Mr William Graham.

'No conversation nor manners. And as for his appearance this morning, why, he looked almost wild! Did not you think, Mason?'

'I did indeed. Nonsensical to have come at all, merely on account of a sister with a trifling cold.'

'Quite,' said Mrs Cordell, warming to the theme, 'and ruining his boots in the process. Six inches deep in mud, I will warrant.'

'Miss Graham's cold is hardly trifling,' protested Margot, seated beside Cordell who was already dozing off. 'And I thought Mr Graham looked remarkably well when he arrived. His dirty boots quite escaped my notice.'

'What say you, Hannibal?' asked Mason, with malicious challenge. 'Would you consider such behaviour acceptable in a relation of yours?'

'I would not,' he replied, though displeasure at being forced to participate in such petty discourse lent to his tone a clipped edge.

'Perhaps this event has affected your admiration of Mr Graham's fine eyes,' Mason pressed, with a knowing smirk.

Stopping mid-stride, Hannibal fixed him with a cold stare. 'Not at all. They were brightened by the exercise.'

As Mason busied himself turning a curious shade of puce, his eldest sister continued, unabashed.

'But really, Alana Graham is a sweet girl. Such a shame she could not have presented as Omegan; that privilege is rather wasted on her brother. And she has such low connections. Besides the brother!'

And the two eldest siblings laughed heartily at the mean-spirited joke.

'Their connections, whether high or low, make Mr and Miss Graham no less agreeable, surely!' Margot turned to Hannibal in appeal.

But this sentiment Hannibal could not support. 'The point, Margot, is that their chances of marrying well must be materially reduced. Particularly in the case of Mr Graham, who is the natural son of nobody knows whom.'

'Why should his origins matter to you if they do not signify with his family?'

Margot's frustration was apparent, and Hannibal felt no satisfaction as he delivered the riposte that he hoped would put an end to the debate once and for all.

'They matter a great deal when one considers that any person choosing to attach themselves to such a family would be forever tainted by association.'

Hannibal could only hope that Margot would hear the intended warning in his words and take care to avoid any serious romantic entanglement with the admittedly lovely Miss Graham. For he feared the repercussions to their friendship should more direct preventative measures become necessary. As for his own situation, Hannibal was under no illusions. As fascinating as he found Will Graham, he had no doubt that the attraction would soon pall. For no passing fancy could possibly compete with his loyalty and devotion to the House of Lecter and a lineage stretching back more than seven hundred years.

***

Two hours passed before Alana settled into a deep slumber, at which point Will could no longer justify delaying his return downstairs. Steeling himself just outside the drawing room, he squared his shoulders and entered, only to find the whole party engrossed in a game of cards.

'Will you join us, Mr Graham?' asked Mrs Cordell, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

He shook his head. 'No, thank you. I should not leave my sister unattended for too long, so pray excuse me. I shall do very well with a book.'

'A book?' echoed Mr Cordell blankly. 'How extraordinary.'

'Ah, you see, Cordell, Mr Graham is a great reader and takes no pleasure in anything else.'

Will hardly knew how to respond to Mr Verger's taunt with equanimity but he managed to reply calmly enough. 'I deserve neither such praise nor such censure. I am not a great reader and I take pleasure in many things.'

Feeling Hannibal Lecter's eyes upon him, Will turned away and began perusing a selection of books laid out on a small circular table.

'How I wish the library here were larger,' declared Mr Verger mournfully. 'But then Papa was never much of a reader. He preferred pigs to Pope.'

'Mason, when you build your house, I beg that you would take Ravenstag as your model. A lovelier estate never existed!' exclaimed Mrs Cordell.

'Indeed,' said Miss Verger, with a fond smile. 'Ravenstag House is a treasure. But it is, alas, unlikely to be copied with any success. Is not that so, Hannibal?'

'Ravenstag is the work of many generations,' he replied, shuffling the deck, and Will caught the note of quiet pride in his voice. 'It would not be easily replicated.'

'I look forward very much to seeing Mischa again. Hannibal's sister,' explained Miss Verger in an aside to Will, who had drawn near to observe the game, finding the conversation unexpectedly more diverting than the books.

'Oh, Mischa! Was ever there a more delightful girl? And so accomplished!' cried Mrs Cordell.

'Hm. In my opinion, the term is too often applied,' said Hannibal Lecter dismissively. 'I know perhaps half-a-dozen among my acquaintance who are truly accomplished.'

'Then your standards must be very exacting,' Will could not resist commenting.

In return he received a cool stare. 'They are.'

'To be really accomplished,' drawled Mr Verger, 'one must have a thorough knowledge of music, dancing, gaming and the modern languages. And besides all this, one must have a certain something in one's tone, address and manner of walking. Is there aught I have forgotten, Hannibal?'

'Certainly of as much importance as anything is the improvement of one's mind by extensive reading,' offered his friend, dealing out the next hand.

Refusing on principle to back down, Will cast a scornful glance first at the pile of rejected books and then back at Hannibal Lecter. 'I have to say I am no longer surprised at your having only six accomplished acquaintances. I rather wonder now at your having any.'

'You doubt even the possibility?' Leaning forward in his seat, the Alpha fixed shrewd eyes on Will. 'Tell me, Mr Graham, have always you been so cynical?'

'Have always you been so dogmatic?' Chin raised in challenge, Will met Hannibal Lecter's intimidating amber gaze unflinchingly.

'I say,' exclaimed Mr Cordell, apparently either completely unaware or completely uncaring of the battle of wills taking place in his midst, 'this is no way to conduct a game! Look to your cards, will you, please?'

'Pray excuse me.' Seizing the opportunity to escape, Will bowed to Miss Verger. 'I should return to Alana.'

But even after he had left the room, he had the oddest sensation that eyes as dark as shadows still followed him.