Lord Maccon was having none of it. “That’s the problem, pup. You were yourself. You continue to refuse to accept that.”

Lady Maccon understood her husband’s meaning and tried to phrase it in a more sympathetic manner. “You must begin to accustom yourself to being a werewolf, Biffy dear. Even attempt to enjoy it. This continued resistance is unhealthy.” She looked around. “Mainly to my furniture.”

Biffy looked down and nodded. “Yes, I know. But, my lady, it’s so undignified. I mean to say, one must strip before shifting. And then after . . .” He looked down at himself, attempting to cross his legs. Lord Maccon took sympathy on him and tossed him a velvet throw pillow. Biffy placed it into his lap gratefully. Alexia noted her husband took no such pains himself.

Biffy’s blue eyes were wide. “Thank you, my lady, for bringing me back. It hurts, but it is worth anything to be human again.”

“Yes, but the question is, how are we to get you dressed while I maintain contact?” Alexia wanted to know, ever practical.

Lord Maccon grinned. “Something can be arranged. I shall call Floote in, shall I? He will know how to manage.” In the absence of the bellpull, Conall strode out into the hall, yelling for the butler.

Mere moments later, Floote appeared. He took in the wretched condition of the room, furniture everywhere, and the entirely unfurnished condition of two of its occupants without even the flicker of an eyelid.

“Sirs. Madam.”

“Floote, my man,” said the earl jovially. “We will need someone to see to this room. It’s a wee bit messy. A re-covering of the chaise, I think; repairs to the wallpaper and curtains; and a new bell rope. Oh, and Biffy here needs to be dressed without letting go of my wife’s paw.”

“Yes, sir.” Floote turned to see to the matter.

Lady Maccon cleared her throat and looked meaningfully at her husband, up and down and then up again.

“What? Oh, yes, and send one of the clavigers next door for some kit for me as well. Deuced inconvenient, but I suppose I may need garments at some point tonight.”

Floote vanished and then reappeared in due time carrying a stack of clothing for Biffy. The young werewolf looked as though he would like to object to the butler’s selection but didn’t want to cause any more of a fuss. It did seem that Floote had chosen the most somber attire possible out of all of the dandy’s peacocklike closet. Biffy’s bottom half was seen to rather simply. After which Floote suggested the young man kneel at the edge of the chaise lounge and Lady Maccon touch the back of his head while shirt, waistcoat, jacket, and cravat were summarily dealt with. Floote handled everything with consummate skill, an ability Alexia attributed to his many years as valet to her father. Alessandro Tarabotti, by all accounts, had been a bit of a dandy himself.

While Floote, Alexia, and Biffy performed their complicated game of knotted parts on the chaise, a claviger arrived with apparel for Lord Maccon. The earl threw it on in an arbitrary way, showing all the attention to detail a ferret might employ if called upon to decorate a hat. Lord Maccon believed that if his trousers were on his legs, and something else was on his torso, he was dressed. The less done after that, the better. His wife had been startled to find that in the summertime, he actually went around their room barefoot! Once—and only once, mind you—he even attempted to join her for tea in such a state. Impossible man. Alexia put a stop to that posthaste.