Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

He watched as she approached the Hawthorne men and said, "Gentlemen, I believe we have a ball to attend." Her smile was radiant. She was completely composed. Then she added, "Because I need to find a husband." She laughed, a beautiful sound that was the most painful noise he'd ever heard.

Will bumped his shoulder with his own. "Told you it was a really bad idea."

Simon wanted to roar. He wanted to shout.

Will continued softly, "One of these days, you will learn that younger brothers do know a thing or two about some subjects."

"I still have yet to ask your advice," Simon rumbled as he watched Lily take Emory's arm and head for a Hawthorne coach.

"Perfect," Will added, as two of their childhood friends ambled their way. "We get Darius and Pierce. It's been an age."

"So nice of you to escort

us

," Darius teased as he reached the ducal coach.

"Flattered," Pierce agreed.

***

Lily tried her best to keep from crying. Prisca's tight grip on her hand and stoic expression did help. She hoped that neither Sir Herbert nor his sons asked anything of her, as she paid no attention at all to the conversation in the Hawthorne coach.

By the time they arrived at the local assembly room, the sun had begun to set, as did Lily's hope for the future.

Mistress.

How could he think she would agree to such a thing? Her cheeks warmed. She had acted like a wanton with him, though that was no excuse.

The coach rambled to a stop. If she never laid eyes on Simon Westfield again—

The coach door opened, and Simon stuck his head inside. "Lily."

She gritted her teeth. There was no way to graciously refuse his hand.

Prisca put her hand in Simon's. "Oh, Your Grace, thank you. That was such a trying ride. I do need a breath of fresh air."

Simon glared at Prisca but helped her from the coach, leaving Lily to accept Will's outstretched arm. She'd never been so grateful to see someone… Well, there were other times she'd been more grateful, but she pushed those from her mind.

Will led her inside a large Georgian building nearly overflowing with men of all shapes and sizes. "Don't be too hard on him," Will said softly.

Lily's eyes flashed to his. "You have no idea what he asked of me."

"I have a fairly good guess. I know how his mind works."

Lily ignored that last bit and looked around her. The assembly room wasn't terribly large, and there was very little room to move about. "I never attend balls," she admitted. "But I'd always heard there were very few gentlemen to go around." That was certainly not the case here. At least two men for every female in attendance.

Will heaved a sigh. "I'd imagine your new dearest friend had a hand in it."

Lily glanced in front of them to see Prisca admiring the turnout with a glow in her eyes. How had she managed this? Lily was in awe. "Well, she did say she intended to hunt for her own husband here."

Will stopped in his tracks, an instant grimace appeared on his face. "She said what?"

Lily looked up at Will. Something did seem to be going on between the two of them. "What is the history between the two of you?" she asked.

He simply shrugged. "She wants more than I could

ever give her." He looked away nervously, as though she might uncover some deep, dark secret if he actually met her eyes.

"That seems to be a theme amongst the Westfield men."

"You don't understand—" Will started.

But she cut him off with a cutting glance. "It seems as though I've heard that once tonight already, doesn't it? Pardon me, but I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now."

Seventeen

Prisca took it upon herself to act as Lily's matchmaker for the night, arranging introductions, filling her dance card, and keeping Blackmoor at bay. She made certain Lily never missed a dance, even if she had to prod her brothers to fill the space. Prisca was delighted to see Lily embrace all the attention lavished upon her and accept all the invitations. By all appearances, Lily was having a grand time, though Prisca knew that the poor dear's heart was breaking.

Having dealt with a Westfield man of her very own, she had a good idea of what Lily was going through. She had to admit she felt a certain sense of satisfaction as she watched Simon pouting among the fronds of the plants that hugged the outer edges of the ballroom.

His eyes never left Lily, and every time the dance changed, Simon made to approach her. But someone else always got there first, sweeping her back onto the dance floor. He became more and more surly as the night went on, barking at anyone who dared to speak to him.

Prisca watched as Mrs. Bostic, the local vicar's wife, made her way across the ballroom. She was approaching Simon of all people? Then inspiration struck. Prisca knew how to solve this problem for Lily.

She edged around the ballroom until she stood near Simon. But he disregarded her presence, as though she was inconsequential. She would show him inconsequential.

"Mrs. Bostic," Prisca called to the woman. She turned and walked toward Prisca, her hands outstretched. "How wonderful it is to see you."

The woman returned the greeting. "Quite a lovely event, isn't it? Such a turnout," she remarked absently as she turned to stand between Prisca and Simon.

"Oh, it's indeed lovely," Prisca smiled. "It looks as though my new friend Miss Rutledge is having a grand time." She pointed to the dance floor. She smiled as she noticed the slight tilt of Simon's head as he heard Lily's name.

"Who is the gel, Miss Hawthorne? I don't believe we have met." She tapped her fan against her hand, searching her memory.

"Miss Rutledge has been staying at Westfield Hall. Her nephew, the Earl of Maberley, is the duke's ward. She brought him for a visit." Simon stepped closer, almost imperceptibly, but not quite.

"She has certainly captured everyone's attention, hasn't she?"

Prisca nodded. "Indeed, I know His Grace is awfully fond of her."

This made the older woman frown, and Prisca had to bite back a smile. After all, the Duke of Blackmoor was rarely fond of

respectable girls. "Is her chaperone here?

" Mrs. Bostic asked. "I should like to introduce myself."

Prisca forced herself to laugh delicately. "She doesn't have a chaperone, Mrs. Bostic. She came here this evening with my brothers and me."

Ms. Bostic's eyes narrowed. "But I thought you said she has been

residing

with the duke for a short time?"

"Yes, she has," Prisca replied, finding it difficult to keep a straight face as Will stepped up to her side. Oh, how delicious. The vicar's wife was fully enthralled in the tale of Lily's whereabouts.

Mrs. Bostic pursed her lips together in such a tight line that a ring of white showed around them. "That is not at all proper."

Prisca lowered her voice and said, "I wasn't certain it was, either. But Lily is firmly on the shelf. So, who am I to judge?"

Mrs. Bostic fidgeted nervously. "I must go and find Mr. Bostic, dear. It was delightful to see you." The woman stomped off, scowling at Simon. He didn't even notice, poor man, as he was too engrossed in watching Darius spin Lily around the dance floor.

"What are you doing?" Will hissed in her ear as Mrs. Bostic vanished into the crowd. "That termagant will show up on Simon's doorstep tomorrow demanding one of us marry Lily."

Prisca shrugged, not daring to make eye contact. "Come now, William, you and I both know

you're

not the marrying sort."

"That's hardly the point," he growled. "What gives you the right to meddle in Lily's life?"

"Knowing you," she answered. Slowly she focused her eyes on him. She did wish that her heart didn't still flutter whenever he was near. "I've been in Lily's position, and I wish someone had been looking out for me."