Alphas prefer fiesty Lunas

Getting in trouble

London, England

*Freya*

"You realize, of course, that there will be hell to pay if my mother catches us," Angel looks over her costume with a skeptical eye. She and I have borrowed dresses from our maids... much to our maids' dismay... and we are presently creeping down the back stairs of my aunt and uncle's London home.

"There will be a lot more hell to pay if she catches you swearing," I comment quite wryly.

"I really don't care. If I have to supervise one more flower arrangement for your party, I'm going to scream." She says.

I giggle, "I hardly think a scream would be appropriate when we're meant to be sneaking down the stairs."

"Oh, hush," Angel mutters ungraciously, tiptoeing her way down another step.

I survey my surroundings as I follow my cousin. The back staircase is certainly a change from the one Angel and I usually use in the main hall, which curves gracefully and is cushioned with luxurious carpets from Persia. In contrast, the polished wooden steps of the back stairs are narrow, and the walls are whitewashed and unadorned.

The quiet simplicity of the stairwell reminds me of my home in Boston, which is not decorated in the opulent London style. The Morningstar mansion, located in fashionable Grosvenor Square, has been in the family for over a century and is filled with both priceless heirlooms and exceedingly bad portraits of the Morningstars of yesteryear. I glance back up at the plain walls and sigh softly as I fight back a pang of homesickness for my father.

"I cannot believe I'm creeping around my home like a burglar to avoid my mother," Angel grumbles as she reaches the bottom of the first flight of stairs and rounds the corner to begin the second. "Frankly, I would rather curl up in my room with a good book, but she's sure to find me there and make me go over the menu again."

"A fate worse than death," I murmur.

Angel looks at me sharply. "I will have you know that I have gone over that blasted menu with her countless times. If she corners me one more time with questions about salmon mousse or roast duck à l'orange, I really don't think I can be held responsible for my actions."

"Contemplating matricide?" I ask.

Angel shoots me a wry look but doesn't reply as she daintily moves down the stairs. "Watch out for this step," she whispers, hugging the wall. "It creaks in the middle."

I swiftly follow my cousin's advice. "I take it you sneak down these stairs often?"

"I used to. It's quite handy to know how to get around this place without anyone knowing what you're up to. I just usually don't go around dressed like my maid."

"Well, it wouldn't be good to wear silks if we're going to help Cook get all the food prepared for tonight."

Angel looks dubious. "Frankly, I don't think she's going to appreciate our help. She is quite traditional and doesn't really think it's proper for the family to be belowstairs." With that, she flung open the door to the kitchen. "Hello, everyone. We're here to help!"

Everyone looks absolutely horrified.

I quickly try to remedy the situation. "You could use two extra pairs of hands, couldn't you?" I turn to Cook and flash her a wide smile.

Cook throws up her arms and shrieks, sending clouds of flour billowing through the air. "What in the Goddess’ name are you two doing down here?"

One of the kitchen maids stops kneading dough for a moment and ventures a question. "Pardon me, miladies, but why are you dressed like that?"

"I don’t think the two of you ought to be in my kitchen," Cook continues, placing her hands on her formidable hips. "You’ll get in the way." When neither of us shows any inclination of leaving, Cook clenches her teeth and starts waving a wooden spoon at us. "In case you hadn’t noticed, we have a lot of extra work to do down here. Now off with you before I call the Luna."

Angel quacks at the mention of her mother. "Please let us stay, Cook." I am fairly sure that Cook has a proper name, but everyone has apparently called her that for so long that nobody actually remembers what it is. "We promise not to get in the way. We’ll be a great help to you, I’m sure. And we’ll be quiet, too."

"It just isn’t right having you down here. Don’t you two have anything better to do than play at being kitchen maids?"

"Not really," Angel answers truthfully.

I smile to myself, silently agreeing with my cousin. Angel and I have gotten into nonstop mischief since we arrived three weeks ago. It isn’t that I mean to get into trouble. It is just that there seems so little to do in London. Back home, I keep busy with my work for our Shipping company. But in London, bookkeeping is not deemed an appropriate pastime for she-wolves, and it seems that proper young English She-wolves have no other duties besides getting fitted for gowns and learning how to dance.

I am bored beyond belief.

Not that I am unhappy. As much as I miss my father, I rather like being a part of a larger family. It is just that I don’t feel useful. Angel and I have started to go to great lengths to entertain ourselves. I smile guiltily at our exploits. It had certainly never occurred to us that the stray cat we had taken in only two weeks earlier might be infested with fleas. There is really no way we could have guessed that the entire first floor of the Morningstar mansion would have to be aired out. And I hadn’t really intended to give the entire household such a good look at my undergarments when I had shimmied up a tree to save that same cat.

My relatives really ought to have thanked me. During the week they were getting rid of the fleas, the entire family quit London and had a marvelous holiday in the country, riding, fishing, and staying up all night playing cards. I taught my relatives how to play poker, a game I had bribed my neighbor into teaching me back in Boston.

Norah had shaken her head and sighed that I am a bad influence. Before my arrival, Angel had only been a bluestocking. Now she is a bluestocking and a hoyden.

"Goodness," I had replied. "That’s better than being just a hoyden, isn’t it?" But I know I can tease Norah. My aunt’s love for me is apparent in both her endearments and her scoldings, and we usually act much more like mother and daughter than aunt and niece.

That is why Norah is so excited about my debut into London pack society. Even though she knows that I ought to and want to return to my father in Boston, she secretly hopes I will fall in love with an English Alpha and settle down in London. Perhaps then my father, who had been raised in Texas and lived there until he married a she-wolf from Boston, might also come to London to be near his sister and daughter.

So Norah has arranged a huge ball to introduce me to the high packs. It is to be held tonight, and Angel and I have fled downstairs, not wanting to get trapped into taking care of all the last-minute arrangements for the party. Cook, however, is having none of it, telling us over and over again that we'll only get in her way.

“Please, can’t we assist you down here? It’s a ghastly scene upstairs,” I sigh. “Nobody speaks of anything besides this party tonight.”

“Well, you will find that’s all we’re talking of down here, little missy,” Cook replies, wagging her finger. “Your auntie is having four hundred guests tonight, and we have got to cook for the lot of them.”

I smile, “Which is exactly why you need our help. What would you like us to do first?”

“What I would like for you to do is get out of my kitchen before your mama finds you down here!” Cook exclaims. We have come down to the kitchen before, but this is the first time we have been so audacious as to actually dress up in plain clothes and offer to help. “I can’t wait until the mating season gets started so you two scamps have something to do with yourselves.”

“Well, it starts tonight,” Angel states. “With Mama’s ball to introduce Freya to the high packs. So maybe you will get lucky, and we will have so many suitors that we won’t have time to bother you.”

“If the Goddess is willing,” Cook mutters.

“Now, Cook,” I put in. “Have mercy on us. If you don’t let us help out down here, Aunt Norah will have us arranging flowers again.”

“Please,” Angel cajoles. “You know how much you love ordering us about.”

“Oh, all right,” Cook grumbles. She should be happy, we do cheer up the kitchen staff with our crazy antics. We also lift Cook’s spirits; she just doesn't want us to know it. “I s’pose you two devils will annoy me all morning ’til I give in. Goes against my good judgment, this does. You need to be getting ready upstairs, not dancing around my kitchen.”

“But you adore our charming company, don’t you, Cook?” Angel grins.

“Charming company, my paw,” Cook mutters as she hauls a sack of sugar out of the pantry. “You see those mixing bowls out on the counter? I will want six cups of flour in each. And two cups of sugar. Now be careful with that and stay out of everyone’s way.”

“Where’s the flour?” I ask, looking about.

Cook sighs and starts to head back to the pantry. “Wait a minute. If you’re so eager to have my job, you lift those big sacks.”

I chuckle as I easily carry the sack of flour back over to where Angel is measuring out sugar.

Angel laughs, too. “Thank goodness we escaped Mama. She would probably want us to start getting dressed already, and the ball is more than eight hours away.”

I nod. In all honesty, I am quite excited about my first London ball. I am eager to put all those fitting sessions and dancing lessons to use. But Aunt Norah is nothing if not a perfectionist, and she is issuing orders like an army general. After weeks of gowns, flowers, and music selections, neither Angel nor I wants to be found anywhere near the ballroom while Angel’s mother is getting everything ready. The kitchen is the last place Norah will look for us.