Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

Simon's heart lurched. Gone? "Where?" he couldn't help but ask, though he had no right. It was the best decision for her. Still, a cold emptiness settled over him. He couldn't imagine going through the day if he didn't get to see her. She'd left? Just like that? No warning? No good-bye? Just… gone? He must have terrified her.

Will looked at him as if he were the village idiot. "To the Hawthornes'."

Simon released a breath he didn't know he held. "Oh, yes, of course." Thank God.

Will shook his head. "You're just making it worse on yourself, you know. You should have taken care of the situation last night when you had the chance."

Will's hearing was as keen as his own. No doubt he had overheard the entire exchange with Lily, even if he tried not to. Simon scowled at his brother, hating that his privacy had been compromised. "She asked me to leave, as I'm sure you know."

Will scoffed. "Like you've been asking her to do? Neither of you mean it. You're obviously made for each other."

"Why are you in such a sour mood?" Simon finally asked, after a footman had placed a plate of baked eggs and sausages in front of him.

Will's blue eyes shot up, piercing him. "Prisca Hawthorne not only sent her father's carriage for Lily, she also came along for the ride. Insufferable chit takes special delight in making my life hell."

Simon raised one brow, the memory of his carriage ride with Lily fresh in his mind. Turnabout was fair play, after all. "I don't know why you don't just bed the girl and put the rest of us out of our misery." He took a bite of eggs, relishing the glower Will sent his direction.

"Ha! I'd wake up with a knife in my back."

Simon nearly choked. "I do believe, William, that if our dear Prisca put a knife in your back, you wouldn't wake up, but it might well be worth it."

"Go to hell."

He'd already been, when he thought Lily was gone for good. He was going to have to rethink this whole sending-her-away plan of his.

What if he set her up in a little house nearby? He could visit whenever he wanted, staying away when it was too dangerous for her. It was the perfect solution.

She didn't want to leave Oliver, and she would be close enough to see the lad as often as she liked… mostly.

He couldn't wait for her to return from the Hawthornes' so he could tell her.

***

Lily gaped at the emerald green dress Prisca held up for her perusal. The beautiful silk shimmered in the afternoon light and made her catch her breath. She'd never worn anything so exquisite, and she couldn't believe Prisca had accomplished so much in so little time. She hadn't even taken any measurements before she left yesterday. "How did you manage this?"

Prisca beamed. "I told you. I love to sew, and I have a good eye, even if I do say so myself. Do try it on."

Before Lily could respond, Prisca's lady's maid began to unbutton the back of her serviceable, blue-sprigged muslin, which paled considerably in comparison to the work of art her new friend had created.

In no time, Lily stood before a floor-length mirror admiring herself. The green silk flowed gently down her length, while, at the same time, it forced her bosom higher. Prisca was on her knees with a pincushion, hemming the bottom of the gown.

"Hum. I thought a white ribbon would finish this nicely, but now I'm thinking gold would be better. With your coloring, it will go perfectly." Prisca stood up to examine her handiwork. "You look stunning. Almost like a duchess."

Lily's face grew hot. Simon didn't even want her to stay at Westfield Hall. He certainly didn't want to marry her. "Oh, Prisca, His Grace isn't… I mean I'm only at Westfield Hall so the duke can become more acquainted with my nephew."

Prisca retrieved a wide golden ribbon from her bedside table. When she returned, she wore an allknowing smile. "It might have begun that way, Lily, but I'm certain things have changed."

Lily shook her head. "He wants to send me back to Essex as soon as possible."

"But you're still here. He's had ample time do to so. Raise your arms." Prisca ran the gold ribbon under Lily's bosom. "Listen, the brothers Westfield and Hawthorne were inseparable. I've known Blackmoor my entire life. He's always seemed the most serious of the lot to me, but I've never seen him look the way he did yesterday."

Lily frowned. "What do you mean?"

Prisca returned to her table, retrieving a pair of sewing shears. "I thought he might tear Emory limb from limb."

She hadn't noticed any difference in Simon. He was just as surly as he'd been since she met him. "Why?"

Prisca giggled. "Because of his attention to you. Honestly, Lily, you had to notice. Blackmoor practically dragged you away from my brother. Had you not allowed him to shove you down the hallway, he would have picked you up and carried you."

Lily fought back the blush she knew must be creeping up her neck as the memories of what he did to her after he had her alone flooded her mind. "He seems the same overbearing brute he always was to me."

"He

has

kissed you." Prisca's violet eyes twinkled. "I can see it on your face."

So much for fighting back the blush. For a moment, she considered denying it, but perhaps Prisca could help. She seemed much more sophisticated than Lily, and she did seem to know how to manage men. Lily nodded. "Then he offered me a dowry to go search out a husband."

Prisca's smile faded. "He did not," she said, her voice dropped dangerously low.

Lily shrugged. "So I don't think being a duchess is in my future."

"The lout!" Prisca almost growled herself. Then she grumbled something unintelligible, though Lily did recognize Will's name somewhere in her hushed rant.

"I don't need to be his duchess, Prisca. But I don't want to leave my nephew."

"Go search out a husband," Prisca repeated, a frown marring her beautiful face. "Stupid Westfield scoundrels." She started to pace the room, and then she stopped suddenly. "If that's how he wants to play it, Lily, I say you pick up the gauntlet."

"I beg your pardon?"

Prisca shook her head. "You are beautiful. I was quite jealous of you when I first laid eyes on you. But then you were so sweet, it would be hard to hate you."

Prisca Hawthorne thought

she

was beautiful? Lily couldn't believe it, and she gaped at her friend.

"I can make certain every eligible bachelor within three villages is at the assembly hall tomorrow. We'll see how Simon Westfield enjoys a little competition,

especially when he's the one supplying your dowry."

Lily's mouth fell open. "B-b-but…"

"And you won't go back to Westfield Hall tonight."

"I won't? But Oliver—"

"Survived several days in Essex without you. He can manage one night with those Westfield barbarians watching after him. They're not completely inept, just with women."

Lily bit her bottom lip. The chances of angering Simon were enormous, but it was worth the risk of catching him. She nodded her acceptance.

Fourteen

"Billings!" Simon bellowed as he strode through the corridors of Westfield Hall, growing more and more anxious with every step. He'd searched her room, the music room, and half a dozen parlors, and had even walked through the gardens, but he couldn't find Lily anywhere. The sun was about to set, and he needed to talk to her before he no longer could.

He was impatient to tell her of the plan he'd concocted, because he knew how pleased she would be that he'd come up with a solution that solved all their problems. She would be nearby. She could see young Maberley as often as she liked. And they could be together, as often as the moon allowed.

Billings appeared as if from nowhere, answering Simon's bellow. "Yes, Your Grace?" he asked.

"Have you seen Miss Rutledge?" Simon asked as he sat down at his desk and began to open his correspondence, all of it well over a week old.