Certain Wolfish Charm

by Lydia Dare

  The Frenchwoman stood back, placing her hand over her heart. "Mon dieu! You've brought me a Greek goddess."

  Lily's cheeks warmed at the statement, especially after she'd discovered where Simon had stashed the vicious columns and read them, each one maligning her character and her appearance. A Long Meg with unfortunate hair and the fashion sense of a medieval peasant.

  "Isn't she, though?" Simon replied, a note of pride in his voice. "We're only to be in London another day. Do you think you can see Her Grace this morning?"

  "Oh, indeed!" the modiste answered. Then she took Lily's hand and towed her toward a set of mirrors. "Let's start with your measurements, Your Grace."

  "Oh, and, Madam," Simon called, "I'd like to order—"

  "I am well acquainted with Your Grace's tastes."

  How many women had Simon clothed?

  "Thank you," he replied, before leaving Lily to be

  poked, prodded, and measured for the better part of the day.

  ***

  With Lily safely in Madam Pelletier's capable hands, Simon made his way to Canis House, an exclusive club to which he and his brothers belonged. The Georgian manor was a bit off the beaten path. In fact, it was so far off the path that he'd had to ride one of the horses from his stables to get there, as the trail wasn't wide enough for his coach.

  It was a far cry from White's or other gentlemen's clubs, but only because the members of Canis House had a tendency to grow bushy tails and howl at the moon. Aside from that, it offered the same plush comfort as London's clubs.

  Simon stepped into the dimly lit drawing room and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Within seconds, he spotted his father's oldest friend and confidante, Major Desmond Forster, who occupied a table at the back of the room.

  "To what do I owe the honor, Simon? Should I thank that pretty new wife of yours since you have finally paid a visit to your father's old friend?" The man's smile was infectious, and Simon couldn't resist grinning back.

  "I'm actually here about something else, Major," Simon confessed as a footman brought a glass of whisky and set it before him. He paused a moment to take a healthy swallow.

  "What do you need, Simon?" Leave it to Major Forster to cut right to the meat of the matter.

  "I need to find out how many of our kind are enrolled at Harrow."

  "Whatever for?" the retired officer said as he sat forward.

  "My ward and young cousin will begin school in a few weeks. When we took a tour of the grounds, there was a faint scent. It was almost as though one of our kind had been there. Recently. Do you know of anyone?"

  Major Forester nodded. "Actually, there are at least two that I can think of. But there could be more. Not all of our kind offer their information to The Society, as you know."

  "I just wanted to ensure Maberley will be safe," Simon said, grateful there would be at least one other boy in residence. "I wonder how much older the others are?" he mused aloud. Oliver could really use a mentor.

  "Maberley? By God, is Daniel's son already old enough for Harrow?" A smile overtook the Major's face.

  "It took me by surprise as well," Simon said.

  "It was quite a tragedy, what happened to his parents. I'm glad the boy has you."

  "I never thought I'd say it, but I'm quite happy to have him as well. He came with my wife." Simon's eyes danced with glee. "A bonus."

  "I would say so." Major Forester tilted his head and regarded Simon quietly. "I would also dare to say that you're in love."

  "Quite," Simon confessed. He heaved a sigh.

  "Don't make it sound so dreadful, will you, chap? They say falling in love is quite an occasion. It has been quite a long time since I've done so. I can barely remember what it's like."

  "Have you ever…?" Simon stopped himself. "Never mind," he mumbled.

  "Have I ever what?" the major prodded. "Ask the question that's eating at you." He motioned for more drinks to be brought to the table.

  Perhaps liquid courage would help, Simon thought as he tossed back another shot.

  "I'm just wondering," Simon hedged. "My father and mother must have had a very normal relationship. I don't remember him ever leaving when the moon was full."

  "And?" Major Forster prompted.

  Simon sighed. "Have you ever claimed a mate?" he finally spit out. He refused to even glance in the major's direction for fear that the man would be rolling on the floor with laughter. But the old officer just clapped his big hand on Simon's shoulder, forcing his attention.

  "Indeed I have." He smiled at the memory.

  "And it… went… well?" Simon couldn't figure out how to ask the questions he needed to have answered.

  "Splendidly," the major said, coughing a little to cover the emotion that coated the word. "What's your fear, Simon? You know your parents had a Lycan relationship. And your mother is no worse for wear."

  "I've resolved to never claim Lily."

  "Why in the world would you do such an idiotic thing?" Major Forster's voice rose an octave.

  "Would you keep your voice down?" Simon growled, looking around the room to see who had heard. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying them a bit of attention.

  "Is your Lily a little mouse? Is she fragile?"

  "No, not at all."

  "Then share your life with her. Or you do an injustice to both yourself and to her. You'll never fully know her until she shares in every part of your life. Don't you want to be a whole man?"

  "More than anything," Simon confessed. "But her sister couldn't handle the claiming. I can't risk losing Lily. Or having her look at me the way Emma did Daniel." He couldn't imagine a worse fate.

  Thirty-Nine

  Excitement rushed though Lily when Westfield Hall finally came into view from the coach window. She didn't care if she ever returned to London. The city's allure no longer existed for her. But here, in their quiet corner of Hampshire, she could remain forever with Simon.

  However, she wasn't certain he could. Simon was just as at home in London as he was at Westfield Hall. What if she lost him to the excitement of Town, to his lifestyle?

  She glanced up at his ruggedly handsome face. He seemed deep in thought, as he had most of the trip. Troubled. Quiet. Though whenever she asked what had his mind, he forced a smile to his lips and told her it was nothing.

  But it was obviously something.

  She just couldn't figure out what.

  Lily knew he was lying, though she couldn't understand why. Had she done something to make him distrustful of her? If so, she wasn't sure what it was.

  The full moon.

  Oliver had mentioned it, as had Charles Alstott. The full moon? What did that have to do with anything? Thoroughly confused, she heaved a sigh.

  Simon gently touched her cheek. "We're almost home, love."

  Did he love her, or was their relationship merely physical to him? If he loved her, wouldn't he trust her? Lily smiled in return, though she didn't feel it.

  "Will said he'd help me with my Latin," her nephew said.

  Ever since his excursion to Harrow, Oliver seemed excited about the prospect of going away to school, which was a welcome about-face. Thank heavens! At least something good had come of their trip.

  "You'll have to settle for me, Maberley," Simon informed him. "Unless Will sprouted wings and flew to Scotland, it'll be weeks before he and Ben return."

  Oliver nodded. "Do you think Lord Benjamin is in some sort of trouble?"

  Simon chuckled, shaking his head. "I believe he's into something, but I wouldn't necessarily call it trouble. My guess is Ben won't appreciate it when Will shows up unannounced, though it will all be his own fault. I cannot fathom him writing Mother several times a week."

  "Simon!" Lily chastised, then looked across the coach at her nephew. "Oliver York, I'll expect a letter from you at least once a week after you start school."

  "Of course!" Simon's voice dripped with mirth. "Once a week, Maberley, or I'll be forced to send Will across the count
ryside looking for you."

  Then the two of them howled with peals of laughter, causing the coach to rock on its springs. Lily didn't find them remotely humorous, and she folded her arms across her chest, glaring at her husband.

  Simon brought his levity under control and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I couldn't resist."

  She supposed she should be happy that he didn't seem to be the brooding man he'd been since they'd left London. But as she was the brunt of his joke, Lily had a difficult time feeling charitable.

  Simon sighed. "Oliver, promise your aunt you'll write her at least once a week when you attend Harrow."

  "I promise," he quickly replied as the coach rambled to a stop.

  "Thank God," Simon remarked. "Good to be home."

  He opened the door, hopped from the carriage, and extended his hand to her.

  Lily accepted his help, stepping into the lateafternoon light. Simon was right. It did feel good to be home. His hand snaked around her waist, and he led her up the steps of the manor house.

  The door opened wide, and Billings beamed at them. "Welcome home, Your Graces."

  The butler took Simon's beaver hat and informed them that the dowager duchess was enjoying tea and entertaining Miss Hawthorne in the blue parlor.

  A rumbled growl escaped Simon at Prisca's name, which Lily didn't understand at all. Why did it seem that none of the Westfield men could be civil to her friend? "If you're incapable of behaving yourself, Simon, you and Oliver can entertain yourselves elsewhere."

  "I believe that is best," he clipped out and then directed Oliver toward his study.

  Lily shook her head, worried she'd never understand certain aspects of him. She handed her Spencer jacket to Billings and proceeded down the corridor to the blue parlor. Even before she entered the room, she could hear her mother-in-law's laugh mixed with Prisca's giggle.

  She stepped over the threshold to find the two women sitting side by side on the settee. "Good afternoon."

  "Oh!" they cried in unison, though it was Prisca who leapt from her spot. "Lily, you're home!"

  As the two embraced, Alice slowly rose from her seat. "I trust everything went well, dear?"

  Lily nodded. It was a lie, but she didn't know how else to respond. It seemed, however, that Alice had keen senses. Her mother-in-law's eyes narrowed, obviously assessing her. "Come join us for tea," Alice continued.

  Lily allowed the dowager to lead her to the settee before assuming the spot beside her. "Your letter mentioned you were to see Richard III."

  "Oh!" Prisca exclaimed as she settled on a chair across from them. "I hear Kean is excellent in the role. I do prefer the comedies however. Twelfth Night is my particular favorite."

  "Did you enjoy yourself?" Alice asked.

  "Yes." Until she learned all of London thought she was of easy virtue, and before she once again laid eyes on Teresa Hamilton. "I met Mr. and Mrs. Alstott."

  Alice's grey eyes widened. "Indeed? It's been an age. Did they seem well?"

  Lily nodded again and then discussed the play in great detail. After more questions were asked and answered, Prisca announced that it was late and she really should return home. Good-byes and hugs were exchanged, and in no time Lily found herself alone with Alice.

  "All right, Lily," her mother-in-law began quietly, "it's just us. I can tell something is bothering you."

  It was just them. Lily squared her shoulders. "Does the full moon mean anything to you?" she blurted out.

  She expected the dowager to look surprised or taken aback by her question, but Alice smiled instead. "It comes around once a month."

  Not a very satisfying answer. Lily scowled. "I know Simon is keeping something from me, and it has to do with the full moon."

  Alice heaved a sigh. "Figured all that out by yourself?"

  Was it impossible for the woman to give her a helpful response? "Do you know what it is?"

  Alice rose from her seat. "Dear Lily, I don't often understand my sons' choices. Take Miss Hawthorne, for example. Why William keeps himself from her I have no idea. They'd both be much happier if he didn't. And with Benjamin, there are so many things I don't understand about him that there's not even a good starting place."

  "And Simon?" Lily asked, her patience wearing thin.

  "Well, Simon I understand. I just don't happen to agree with him."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means I can't tell you what you want to know, Lily." Her expression was pained.

  "Why not?"

  "Do you love my son?"

  More than life, or she wouldn't care about any of this. Lily nodded, which made Alice smile and clasp her hand.

  "My dear, you've figured out so much on your own. You're on the right path. Follow your heart."

  "Why can't you tell me what is going on?" Lily begged.

  "Because it's not allowed. Only Simon can do so."

  Lily thought she might scream. Only Simon could tell her? That was the most unhelpful thing Alice could have said. Simon had no intention of telling her anything.

  She was on her own.

  ***

  After dismissing Oliver, Simon returned to his desk to pore over a report from his steward. It wasn't the most interesting reading, but it would serve to keep his mind off Prisca Hawthorne.

  Truly he shouldn't be so irritated with the meddlesome chit. If she hadn't interfered in his life, he wouldn't have Lily. He should be thanking the girl. But the manipulative way she went about arranging things to her liking made it hard for him to keep a level head where she was concerned. With that in mind, it was perhaps for the best that Will had decided against throwing his lot in with the chit. He'd rather not have to kill his sister-inlaw. Now if he could keep her from visiting Lily and his mother…

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Simon pushed his report to the middle of his desk. "Come."

  His mother poked her head inside. "Do you have a moment, dear?"

  He gestured to one of the chairs before him. "Of course."

  She slipped inside and shut the door firmly behind her. She did not sit, however, as she chose to pace before his desk instead. "You need to tell her, Simon."

  "Tell her to ban Prisca Hawthorne from my home? I was considering it," he replied hopefully.

  She stopped walking, heaved an irritated sigh, and folded her arms across her chest. "Don't be obtuse. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

  His shoulders slumped forward. He did know what she meant; he'd just hoped it had to do with his rudeness toward Prisca. "We've already had this discussion. I won't burden Lily with this aspect of my life."

  His mother's lips drew up tight. "She knows you're keeping something from her."

  Simon dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "She knows nothing. Don't put your hopes for Lily above her best interests."

  "My hopes for Lily," she scoffed. "You really are more stubborn than even your father, Simon. She told me herself that she knows you're keeping something important from her."

  He swallowed. "She did?" Lily had asked him numerous times what secrets he kept from her, but he thought he'd convinced her otherwise.

  "Hmm," she answered. "And she asked me if the full moon had anything to do with whatever you're hiding."

  His limbs all went weak. How could she possibly know that much? "What did you say?"

  "I told her it wasn't allowed for me to say anything."

  "God damn it, Mother!" He leapt to his feet while his pulse pounded in his ears and fear gripped his chest. Simon's fist struck his desk with such a force that it split along the middle and his report fell to the floor along with all his unopened correspondence.

  Well accustomed to his temper, his mother didn't even flinch. "Honestly, Simon, that desk belonged to your grandfather. You should have a care."

  "To hell with the desk," he roared, pushing it over as an afterthought. "Why would you tell her such a thing? Now she knows I'm hiding something."

  His mother rubbed
her temple, looking at him as if he were a simpleton. "She already knew that, Simon. How long do you think it will take for her to learn the rest of it? Tell her now, before she discovers it on her own."

  ***

  "Simon," Lily called from the library door.

  "Yes, love?" His voice came from a darkened corner.