Page 89 of A Lady’s Guide to Werewolves

“How is it you can get married in secret but I can’t get betrothed?” Sorcha demanded.

“The Dragon’s Blood Roses bloomed in my garden, and they only bloom once a year for one hour,” Briar said as if that explained everything. For her, it did. “There wasn’t time to tell you.”

“Damnation, I ought to have bought you a ring,” Aidan muttered, but Sorcha didn’t think anyone else heard him.

Except for Pippa with her clever eyes and knowing smile. “You’re going to need a new gown for your betrothal ball. I assume there’s to be one.”

“Yes.” That was the entire point, though Sorcha did not say so out loud. “And I already have gowns.”

“You have old gowns. If you want to make this believable, you’ll get a new dress.”

Sorcha sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Believable?” Briar frowned, pulling her attention from her husband. “Are you not really betrothed? Is that why you didn’t tell us?”

Aidan glowered. “We’re betrothed,” he said in a tone she had never heard him use before. It bordered on surly.

“It’s complicated,” Sorcha said. She wasn’t going to discuss it further with Aidan standing right there.

“I’m taking my wife home”—Ethan stood, lifting Briar easily—“while you sort it out.”

Sorcha would have been thrilled to go to the modiste a few years ago. Now she was trying to figure out what else she could sell to cover the costs. There would be an assembly room to rent as well, and food and drink. Decorations.

She groaned. “I’m never going to get a cup of tea, am I?”