Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

"Perfect." Simon scrubbed a hand across his face. "You've really gotten yourself into quite the mess."

Which he knew. Will just wasn't prepared to give up yet. "She'll get used to the idea. Once she's away from Langley Downs, once she's a Westfield…" He let his voice trail off, too uncertain of the future to say the words aloud.

"Yes, I'm sure it'll all be different then," Simon remarked drolly. His brother tugged the chain to his pocket watch and flipped it open. "With that in mind, what time do we plan to leg shackle you to Prisca?"

Last year would have been nice. "You do have the license, I assume?"

"Would I have returned without it?"

Of course not. Will took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then I suppose the sooner the better. I only wish Mother was feeling well enough to travel." And she did adore Prisca.

Simon frowned. "Doctor Bramber's tonic hasn't helped?"

Will shook his head. "And Ben and Elspeth have been quarreling over the situation since you left."

"Do you think she could really heal Mother?" Simon rubbed his jaw.

Of that Will had no doubt. "She may look tiny, but she's more powerful than any other woman of our acquaintance. But that is neither here nor there. Ben won't allow it; and if she was my wife, I don't think I would either. He has the babe to consider as well."

Simon heaved a sigh. "Then we'll just have to pray the tonic does its job."

There wasn't much else they could do. "So," Simon began, his voice lighter as he changed the subject. "Are you ready to join the ranks of us married men?"

More than he'd ever thought possible, not that he'd voice that to his older brother. He managed a cheerful smile. "I suppose it's time to drag Prisca from her room, kicking and screaming, so we can be joined in wedded bliss."

"Good luck with that." The corners of Simon's mouth twitched upward, and then he glanced down at the correspondence that had piled up on his desk while he was away. "Hmm," he said picking up a letter emblazoned with The Society's emblem. "This one's for the major."

"Going through your own post now?" Will asked, surprised. His brother was notorious for allowing letters to go months or longer without reply.

Simon shrugged. "Lily is helping me stay a bit more organized. I somehow don't believe your bride will be as accommodating."

Probably not. Will pulled the note from his pocket that he'd just gotten from Billings and tore through the seal.

"Were you expecting something?" Simon's brow arched as Will quickly exhaled.

"I sent a query to an old friend in Kent to learn more about Brimsworth."

Dear Will,

It was quite a surprise to hear from you this

morning. To be honest with you, I do not know

Eynsford's heir. However, I have heard much about

the Monster of Eynsford Park. Of course, that is

just servants' talk. I do not actually believe such a

creature exists. My valet, however, swears that his

cousin, who is in Eynsford's employ, is convinced

that an evil monster stalks the halls of the marquess'

residence and has torn the interior to shreds on more

than one occasion. It sounds ridiculous, I know.

When are you returning to London? We have

much to catch up on and haunts to visit.

Sincerely,

Richard

Will frowned at the letter in his hands. The Monster of Eynsford Park? It didn't take a genius to realize the creature mentioned in the letter was a Lycan. The question was why did Eynsford destroy his own property? Every Lycan of Will's acquaintance went out of doors to transform.

Will and his brothers had been taught by their father to respect their Lycan traits and to do what it took to keep others safe. That meant retreating to the forest and into solitude when the moon was full. Indoors, a Lycan could react like a caged beast and could be a danger to those around them.

Thank God, Prisca would be safe from him from now on.

Eighteen

Prisca heard her father bellow her name from the bottom of the staircase, but she ignored him completely. He'd already sent Molly, two other maids, and the butler to rouse her, but she refused to go down. When Molly informed her that the Westfields had arrived with a special license in hand, Prisca knew her time was up.

Still, she wasn't ready to give in. So she settled back in her bed and continued to stitch the gown she'd designed for Lady Elspeth. It was easy to escape into her own mind as she hemmed the gown, the task soothing in a way that would have been difficult to explain to someone else. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped if she ignored them long enough, they would all go away.

A knock sounded on her door, which Prisca promptly disregarded.

"Miss," Molly's voice filtered into the room. "Everyone is at sixes and sevens. Please do come down. I'm afraid Sir Herbert is going to come up here himself."

Prisca could imagine her father doing just that.

? Her brothers were probably all scowling at each other and pacing the floors, except for Garrick who would stand very sto ically in Papa's study, all pious with his Bible, ready to shackle her to William Westfield for life.

Unfortunately, she could also imagine what life with William would be like—constantly wondering where he was and who he was with. Was he under a whore or on top of one? Was he searching for a mistress? Or a widow with whom to while away his days?

Prisca opened the door marginally and jerked her maid into the room. The surprised look on the girl's face quickly turned to annoyance as she rubbed her wrist.

Prisca had to know. She'd never asked about the results of her little test the night she'd sent Molly to seduce Will. The very thought that he might have taken her up on it had nearly eaten Prisca up inside. So, she'd pushed it to the back of her mind.

"Tell me," she blurted out.

"Beg your pardon?" Molly returned, the look on her face making Prisca feel horribly guilty for using the woman in the first place. Molly had a kind heart. And had always been good to Prisca.

"The night I asked you to seduce Lord William, Molly."

Prisca knew the moment the girl remembered the event. A quick smile spread across her face. "What would you like to know?"

"Did you offer yourself to him?" The very thought made tears well up in Prisca's eyes.

"In a manner of speaking…" Molly hedged.

Prisca began to tap her foot against the rug. "Can you be more specific?"

"I put myself in his path the night of your party. The one the duke and duchess attended."

"I remember. Please continue."

"He thought it was his fault, but I ran directly into him. He reached out to catch me and set me back on my feet." Her face took on a dreamy quality. "He is a very nice man."

"Molly!" Prisca would wring her neck if she didn't get to the meat of the matter.

"Yes, yes. I'm getting to it. He paid me no mind at all."

"None?"

"Not a bit. I even told him I had injured my ankle. And asked him to take a look. I pulled my skirts up around my knees." She blushed furiously. "But he simply left me alone to go and find someone else to help me. That was when he sent Mr. Hawthorne." This time, the girl flushed

and

fidgeted.

Prisca raised one eyebrow at her. She had a very good idea which Mr. Hawthorne had seen to Molly. "Blaine?"

"We are discussing

your

relationship, miss."

"Maybe he has changed?" she asked quietly.

"I would wager on that," Molly said definitively.

"Thank you, Molly. You may go."

"Yes, miss." When Molly got to the door, she turned back. "If I may, miss, I'd advise you not to let the past cloud your future."