by Lydia Dare
He shook his head.
"Why didn't you wake me last night?"
His lips formed a lopsided smile. "Because you looked so tired. After the exhausting day we had, I couldn't bring myself to rouse you, though I wanted nothing more than to do so. Believe me, if I'd known you'd react this way, I would have done so."
"Truly?" she asked, her voice very small.
"If I promise to ravish you every night, will you promise to avoid histrionics every morning?"
Her cheeks warmed, and she felt like a fool. She'd never been prone to dramatics before.
"Is that a yes?" he asked, dipping his head down to hers. "I promise to keep my part of the bargain, Lily."
"To ravish me every night?"
A wolfish grin spread across his face. "And sometimes in the morning."
When Simon's lips captured hers, all other thoughts left Lily's mind. His strong hands splayed across her lower back and pressed her against his arousal.
Lily couldn't think when he held her this close, when his eyes darkened to flint and his nostrils flared. She could only feel. And feel she did. Every inch of him pressed against her belly, hot and hard.
"Can we start with this morning?" Lily felt the heat
creep up her cheeks when he raised one eyebrow. Perhaps she was being too bold. But then he picked her up and took her back to bed, and all thoughts of being too pushy fled quickly from her mind.
***
Simon draped his arm around Lily as the coach rocked her back to sleep. On the other side of the carriage, Oliver watched with a sad smile on his face. The boy had been quiet most of the journey, and Simon wondered what was on Oliver's mind. "Something wrong?" he asked quietly.
Oliver shook his head. "Just thinking about Aunt Lily."
She stirred in Simon's arm at the sound of her name but quickly stilled. "What about her?"
Oliver shrugged. "I just don't want her to get angry with me when she finds out."
"She's not going to find out."
Oliver glanced out the window at the passing countryside. "Aunt Lily always finds out everything. I hope she forgives me for not telling her."
Guilt niggled at Simon's conscience. "Oliver, she's happier not knowing. Enough about this. We should be talking about your upcoming visit to Harrow."
Oliver straightened in his seat. "You said there are safe places for me to go when…" his voice trailed off.
Simon nodded. "My father, yours, Will, Benjamin, and I were always safe at school. You will be, too. The difficult part is controlling yourself as the moon waxes. Its pull gets stronger as the days pass. Yet you have to maintain your personality so those around you won't notice the changes occurring within you."
"How do I do that?"
"When you begin the term, keep to yourself as much as possible. Count the days on the calendar. Everyone is different, but most of us feel the pull of the moon four to five days before it's completely full. When you see the dates approaching on the calendar, you should take special care to be cognizant of your emotions and reactions. When you feel like you are not in control, go somewhere safe.
"As time goes by, your control will strengthen. You will learn to manage your wildness, instead of it managing you."
Oliver nodded, his gaze wandering to the passing scenery out his window.
"You look as though you don't trust me."
"No. It's me I don't trust," Oliver sighed.
"It'll come with time. Have faith in yourself. As I have faith in you." It was obvious the boy needed a confidence primer. Wasn't that something fathers did? He rather liked the thought of being the one to do that for Oliver. Would he be the same with his own children?
Simon looked down at Lily, who was beginning to stir again. Children. With her. He couldn't help but smile and draw her more closely to him.
***
It was nearly impossible for Lily to lie completely still when she wanted to hear what they were saying so badly. She'd nearly been asleep when Simon had spoken. To hear him ask Oliver what was troubling him initially warmed her heart, but as she listened further, she simply became more and more puzzled.
Lily tried to maintain a relaxed pose, but it was difficult. Her heart really wanted to thump right out of her chest.
Why in the world would Oliver ever think she'd be disappointed in him? She'd always told him what a good boy he was. And, despite the fact that he didn't study his Latin text, he was truly a joy to be around. Sure, over the last few months, he'd become a bit surly. And he'd gotten aggressive with her a few times. But maybe that was just normal adolescent behavior. What did she know? She'd never raised a child.
…She's not going to find out… Find out what? Was there some manly secret that women weren't aware of? Women pretended that their monthly courses didn't exist and they were never spoken of, but it really wasn't a secret. Surely, men didn't have any ailments that couldn't be discussed.
Lily wanted to sit up and force them to tell her the truth. But she had a feeling Simon would quickly and effectively change the subject. She would get more answers if she pretended to sleep.
…There are safe places to go… Why would Oliver need a safe place to go at school? To escape bullies? For personal time? To meet girls? There were no girls at Harrow, aside from the staff.
…Calendar… Control… Lily grew more and more agitated. She stirred in Simon's arms, fully prepared to sit up and have a go at them both. She would stop the carriage and refuse to go one more inch until someone told her what these secrets were about. But Simon pulled her closer to his chest and locked his strong arms around her. She couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to.
Will knew the secrets. Oliver obviously knew them. Even Simon's mother had alluded to facts that weren't yet apparent.
Was there madness in the family? They all seemed quite sane most of the time. But she could think of no other explanation for wanting to keep her in the dark.
This mystery would gnaw at her like a dog with a bone until she unraveled the details. She would find out what was going on. And she would do it soon.
Thirty-Six
St. Mary's Church in Harrow-on-the-Hill was a remarkable medieval structure. Lily had never seen it before and was surprised that she could look down on London from her position in the churchyard. She had heard Lord Byron loved this church and spent many hours whiling away his years at school in this very courtyard. The beauty of the place made it easy to see why he'd done so.
Still, as lovely as she found the village and its quaint surroundings, Lily anxiously awaited Simon and Oliver's return from the school grounds. She wished they'd let her go with them on their tour, but Simon had adamantly shaken his head, informing her that a woman would be a distraction on campus.
The thought made Lily frown. A distraction. That she highly doubted. More likely, he and Oliver couldn't discuss their plans with her awake. Whatever this was about, Simon guarded his secret fiercely. He wasn't likely to tell her what was going on even if she asked nicely or if she demanded, stomping her foot and acting the role of a fishwife.
She'd have to get her answers from someone else. She could probably force it out of Oliver. She had lots of experience in that realm, but she hated to use her nephew in such a way. If Will was at Westfield Hall, she was certain he would tell her; at least, she thought he would.
Her mother-in-law. Alice was the only woman who seemed to know the secret. If she couldn't finagle an answer out of her, she would set her sights on Oliver. One way or the other, she'd get to the bottom of this mystery.
***
Simon took great pride in showing Oliver around the Harrow grounds. For most of the tour, the headmaster accompanied them, leading them down one corridor or another and even allowing them a peek into one of the boys' chambers.
The visit brought back many memories for Simon. The years he and Daniel had spent there together, the scrapes and adventures they'd shared. He wished again that his closest friend had survived that awful carriage accident. There
was no doubt in his mind that Daniel would have been proud to see Oliver grow into a man before his eyes.
The headmaster gave his permission for Simon and Oliver to explore the grounds alone. The countryside wasn't different from Simon's memories, so he was able to direct Oliver down a secluded path that very few people knew about. It had been used by one Lycan schoolboy after another through the years. Even after all this time, Simon easily found his way through the thick foliage until they reached a small circular clearing.
"This is where you'll come," he told Oliver. "When the moon is full, this place will be your haven." He pointed to the sky above them. "The light will hit you in the middle here." He gestured to a circle of white rocks just a few feet from where Oliver stood. "After the transformation, you'll be free to roam the grounds, like we did at Westfield Hall. Then you'll return to this spot when the time has come to resume your human form."
Oliver quietly looked around the clearing. "Will there be others like me?" he finally asked.
Simon didn't have a clue. He supposed he could take a look at the rolls. "It's possible there are others. When I attended Harrow, it was just Daniel, Will, and me. I'll see if I can find out for you."
Oliver circled the pile of white rocks. "What is this?"
"I never thought to ask. It has always been here, even in my father's time."
Oliver nodded, sniffing at the air. "It does smell as if someone has been here."
Simon did the same. A faint scent lingered, yet the breeze rarely found this place. "Do you hope there are others? Are you afraid to be alone?"
The lad's back straightened instantly. "I'm not afraid of anything," he boasted proudly. "Just curious."
Simon bit back a smile as he remembered saying something similar to his father years ago. "My apologies."
After he sniffed back his indignation, Oliver glanced around the clearing once more and nodded. "All right, Blackmoor. I think I've got the lay of the land."
"You sure?"
The boy let go a sigh. "If I know Aunt Lily, she's wearing a path through that churchyard. She doesn't like to be kept in the dark."
Somehow, Simon knew that. He clapped a hand to Oliver's back and directed him back down the secret path. "We'll have to distract her then. Does your aunt like the theatre?"
Oliver pushed his way through the dense flora. "She likes to read Shakespeare. I don't know that she's ever seen a play."
That brought a grin to Simon's face. "Well, I'll have to remedy that. We'll stay in London a few days. Get you fitted for new school clothes." Order something sheer for Lily, or several somethings. A new wardrobe befitting a duchess. Jewels. Ribbons. Hair combs. "You won't mind us going out at night and leaving you alone, will you?"
"No," Oliver answered and then jumped back when a tree limb smacked him in the arm. "I'd like to read more about Lycans. I found a couple of books at Maberley Hall. They're different from the ones Will gave me."
Same information, however. Simon kept that bit of fact to himself. As long as Oliver wanted to study up on their heritage and lore, he would support him. Keeping the boy occupied would also leave Simon and Lily to their own devices. He looked forward to offering London on a platter to her. Starting tonight with his box at Drury Lane.
***
When the ducal coach rambled to a stop in front of St. Mary's Church, Lily finished her walk through the churchyard. The sunlight reflected off the Blackmoor crest, and the sight made her shiver. The door opened, and Oliver scrambled out, a boyish grin on his face. Lily's heart warmed. It had been so long since he'd looked carefree.
"Aunt Lily!" he cried, running toward her.
She laughed as she embraced him. "Well, you obviously enjoyed yourself."
Oliver pulled back from her and nodded. "I do wish you could have seen it."
So did Lily, but seeing Oliver so happy, she felt her annoyance melting away. "Do tell me about it," she said as they walked toward the coach.
Simon stepped from the conveyance at that moment, his eyes light with merriment. "Isn't St. Mary's lovely?" he asked.
Lily nodded as he took her hand. "I can see why Byron enjoyed his time here."
Simon chuckled, helping her into the coach. "You'll have to ask Will about him some day."
"Oh?" Lily asked as she settled herself against the squabs. "Did he know him?" She couldn't keep the scandalized tone from her voice. As lovely as Lord Byron's poetry was, he'd very recently been exiled; the offenses were too shocking to speak of in polite society.
Simon took the spot next to her, just as he had the entire journey, and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. He smelled of sandalwood and the outdoors. "They were in the same year."
Oliver climbed inside the coach, sat across from them, and rolled his eyes. "Must you go about touching her all the time?"
With a warm laugh, Simon squeezed her arm. "As she's my wife, I don't see where you have anything to say about it, Maberley."
Oliver groaned, closed his eyes, and rested his head against the wall of the coach. "It's enough to turn a fellow's stomach."
"Well, we'll give you a reprieve tonight then, my boy."
"Oh?" Oliver asked, sitting forward in his seat.
"I believe I will take Her Grace to the theatre tonight. I can trust you to stay out of trouble for one evening, can't I?"
Lily looked up at Simon. "The theatre?"
"We have a box at Drury Lane. I believe Richard III is on stage. At least it was when I left Town a few weeks ago."
Shakespeare? Drury Lane? Giddiness spread through Lily.
***
Simon loved seeing Lily's expression of awe when they entered his home on Curzon Street. Having grown up with all the grandeur of one ducal home or another, Simon enjoyed seeing his world through her eyes.
The Rutledge family was landed gentry, but foolish investments had left them penniless. He'd been surprised when Daniel had insisted all those years ago on marrying Emma. They were both so young at the time. She hadn't had fortune or connections to lend him, only herself. She was a quiet girl with simple tastes. But she spoke to a part of Daniel that Simon
was just now beginning to understand.
He wanted to give Lily everything. Jewels, gowns, new experiences, anything to make her smile and see her pretty eyes grow wide with surprise. To that end, he went to the safe in his study, certain he had more of his grandmother's moonstone jewelry there.
Pulling back a portrait of his grandfather, he worked the combination until a cough from the doorway halted him. Simon stepped away from the hinged portrait to find his butler, Anderson, standing just inside the study.
"Yes, Anderson?"
The middle-aged man appeared uncomfortable and shifted in his spot, which was not like him at all. Simon had never known the butler to hedge.
"Well, Your Grace, it is Friday."
Simon raked his gaze across the man. What was this about? "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
The man barely met his gaze. "The, um, well, the society pages came out today."
Something Simon never cared about. "And?"
The butler gestured to his desk, where a small stack of papers sat, awaiting his perusal. "Well, Your Grace, I'd rather not have to speak the words aloud. Perhaps you could read them for yourself."
"Why don't you just tell me what's going on?" Simon barked. He really didn't want to waste his time like this.
The butler shook his head. "Speaking frankly, I've seen you in a bit of a temper in the past, and I'd prefer not to be the messenger. Though," he pointed again at the stack of papers, "I thought you should be aware
of the word about Town."
Thoroughly annoyed, Simon dismissed the man and sat at his desk. He first opened the Mayfair Society Page. He clenched his mouth shut after reading the first paragraph. Bloody hell!
Thirty-Seven
Simon stepped from the coach and held his hand out to Lily. He smiled a smile she was sure he intended to be enco
uraging. However, it did little to ease her nerves. She'd never attended the theatre before, and, though she was excited, the prospect was a bit intimidating. She fingered the moonstone that rested right above her cleavage. She'd been shocked when Simon had presented her with matching earbobs before they left Curzon Street.
For years, the talents of Edmund Kean had been gushed over in one review after another, ever since he'd portrayed Shylock in The Merchant of Venice on the stage in Drury Lane. Lily never imagined she'd see Shakespeare performed in a London theatre, and she certainly never thought she'd actually see Kean himself on the very stage where he'd made his name.