Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

Only Sir Herbert and his oldest son, Emory, had been at dinner the night before, but now there were three others, all of them similar in build and looks. Tall, though none as tall as Simon or Will. Dark haired, ranging from a chestnut brown to nearly black. There was Mr. Garrick Hawthorne, a quiet man who, Prisca told her, had recently taken the post of vicar in a neighboring village to be closer to his family; Lieutenant Darius Hawthorne, who had returned from Waterloo the previous summer and now spent most of his time in London; and Mr. Pierce Hawthorne, a

tradesman. Prisc

a had whispered that bit as if it were a sin. He'd made a small fortune in shipping in South Hampton.

Lily was surprised that all of their eyes seemed to follow her, as she'd never commanded this much attention in Essex. Of course, at home she wasn't a novelty.

Despite all the activity at Langley Downs, Lily missed Simon more than she could have ever imagined. After she'd woken the night before, she'd had a difficult time getting back to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to be back at Westfield Hall so she could tiptoe into Oliver's room, touch his cheek, and slip back out. She wanted to argue with Simon and banter with Will. But she'd lain awake, listening to the wind buffet her window, alone.

Oliver. Simon. Will. Westfield Hall. None of those things were hers. She would do well to remember that and cease her pining for a life that wasn't, and probably never would be, hers.

What if Prisca's elaborate plans for tonight did nothing, and Simon still wanted her to leave Hampshire? What if all his kisses had just been something to pass the time? He

was

known all over England for his female conquests. Would she be just another successful tryst he could add to his list?

She made her way to the large window and stared off into the distance, toward Westfield Hall.

"Why do you look so sad, Miss Rutledge?" the vicar asked, coming to stand beside her.

Lily plastered a false smile on her face. "Just woolgathering, Mr. Hawthorne."

***

While she should have been listening to Emory and Darius banter back and forth, Prisca watched Lily talk with Garrick and tapped her chin mindlessly. There was so much to do, and not a lot of time. She'd have to find recruits.

"…Prissy?" Darius said.

Prisca's attention snapped to her middle brother. "I

know

you did not just call me Prissy." No one did that. Not anymore.

Darius chuckled. "Indeed, it was the only way to get your attention. You must have been a thousand miles away."

"Obviously incorrect, as I am right here, Dari."

He shook his head. "What are you up to with Miss Rutledge?"

Prisca cocked her head toward her brother. "What am I up to? I don't think I like your insinuation."

Darius draped his arm around her shoulders. "You're my sister and I love you, but there's not one generous bone in your body. So you must be up to something."

Beside them, Emory laughed at her expense. Prisca leveled both of them with her haughtiest look. "Something you want to add, Emory?"

"No, no," her eldest brother said, raising his hands as he backed up a step. "I think Darius has it well under control."

Well, fine, they all thought she was looking after her own interests. That shouldn't bother her. This

was

a selfless act on her part, however, whether her irritating brothers believed it or not.

Maybe she could use their unflattering view of her to Lily's advantage. How fortuitous. "Very well, I wasn't going to tell either of you this, but since you seem to think I only think of myself, I'll have to prove you wrong."

"By all means." Darius grinned at her.

"Lily is looking for a husband, and I don't see why it can't be one of you."

"She seemed so focused on rearing her nephew." Emory's eyes flashed across the room, landing on Lily. Prisca had to bite back a smile. This would be too easy.

"True," she said, sliding out of Darius' hold. "That was before Blackmoor decided to take his guardianship seriously. Besides, the boy's bound for Harrow for the Michaelmas term. To show his gratitude for all her years of service, Simon Westfield has bestowed upon Lily a grotesquely large dowry."

Now Darius' eyes flashed to Lily and Garrick across the room. "You make us sound like piranha, Priss. What do we care about Blackmoor's funds? She's a pretty girl to be sure, but you can't mean to leg shackle one of

us

to her? We barely know her."

Prisca rolled her eyes. Not very ladylike, but the two fellows were her brothers. "Well, why not you? Lily will marry someone. She's pretty and kind, and I might enjoy being the relation of a duke, even distantly."

"Indeed?" Darius grinned. "Is that why you and Will…" But his voice trailed off when her glower darkened dangerously.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," she bit out.

He looked at once like a remorseful little boy. "Sorry, Priss, I didn't mean…"

She shook her head. "William Westfield means nothing to me. In fact, as Lily is hunting for her husband, I think I shall hunt for mine." She pretended to ignore the twin looks of surprise her brothers exchanged. Then she feigned an innocent frown, reeling them completely in. "I do hope there will be several eligible bachelors there this evening."

Emory proudly thrust his chest out. "If you are serious, Prisca, I can personally guarantee a full house."

She graced him with a most charming smile. "Well, I

should

have choices, and so should Lily—especially if none of you are interested in scooping her up."

As predicted, both of her brothers' eyes flashed back to her friend, now alone, as she stared out the window. They really were too easy to manipulate.

***

Simon was more anxious than he could ever remember being before. It had been

two

days since he'd seen Lily. Two days without her melodic laugh. Two days without her smile, her scent, her twinkling hazel eyes focused on him.

This blasted ball at the assembly room couldn't happen soon enough to satisfy him. He rushed Parker through the chore of readying him for the event and was pacing the floor of his parlor two hours earlier than necessary.

Will peeked inside the room, grinning ear to ear. "Ready, are you?"

His blasted brother wasn't even dressed to go. "Why aren't you?"

"It's hardly time," Will responded, dropping onto a light blue settee. "Relax."

"Get dressed," Simon ordered.

Will simply chuckled. "For God's sake, Simon, you're wound more tightly than a child's top. Have a drink or something to calm your nerves."

Simon glowered at him. "You

could

just meet me there."

"Or I could stay away completely," his brother suggested with a grin.

"That's a fabulous idea," Simon replied, starting for the door. Then he threw over his shoulder, "I wish you'd declined the invitation to begin with. I'd much rather have Lily here tonight."

"You are a man besotted."

"Just anxious. I want to discuss a proposition with her."

"A proposition?" Will echoed. "Down on one knee and the whole bit?"

Simon stopped short. Marriage. He wished it could be that. It wasn't even safe to keep her in Hampshire, but to live with him day in and day out, to be his wife… He couldn't put her in that sort of danger. If anything ever happened to her, he'd never forgive himself. "I didn't say 'proposal.'"

Will's blue eyes seemed to stare right into him. "You're making a mistake."

"You keep saying that, and I have yet to ask for your advice." Simon quit the room and headed out of the house.

He stepped lightly down the steps, anxious to be inside the coach, on his way to Lily.

"Your Grace." His coachman bowed, then opened the door of his carriage.