Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

Lily pressed forward and stepped over the threshold. At once, Simon leapt to his feet. Anguish marred his brow.

"Lily," he said as the air rushed out of him.

Will slowly rose and smiled at her. "I'll leave you two alone."

Lily shook her head. "That's not necessary, Will."

"Oh, I think it is." He winked at her and quickly quit the room.

Lily watched him go and then turned her head back to Simon, only to find him right next to her. How could he possibly have moved so quickly? She took a step away from him, not able to look him directly in the eyes. "Your Grace, I—"

"We're a little past 'Your Grace,' Lily."

Heat infused her cheeks, and she nervously smoothed her skirts. "Your Grace, I have no excuse for my behavior, and I think it best if I leave for Maberley Hall today."

Simon's knuckles brushed against her cheek, sending tendrils of desire straight to her core. The sooner she left, the better. She couldn't trust herself alone with him at all. Who knew what she'd do next?

"I can't let you leave, Lily," his deep voice rumbled over her.

Lily closed her eyes, wishing herself away from him. Wishing this could be easier. "I won't be your mistress, Simon. I can't. It's time for me to leave."

"No," he said, his voice strained. "Not my mistress, Lily. You're going to marry me."

She must have misheard him. Simon Westfield couldn't possibly want to marry her. She would interfere with his lifestyle. Wasn't that what he'd said?

Slowly, Lily opened her eyes. His penetrating grey gaze bored into her. His brow was furrowed. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Whatever was going on, Simon was the furthest thing from happy. "Marry you?" she asked.

He nodded. Once.

A feeling of dread settled in her belly, and Lily shook her head. "Why would you ask me such a thing?"

"It's necessary."

"Necessary?"

Again, he nodded.

"Why?"

He quietly watched her, and, for the longest time, Lily thought he wouldn't speak at all. Did he really not want to lose her? Her heart expanded at the thought.

"We don't have a choice." Simon's voice interrupted her thoughts, dashing her hopes.

Unsure what to say to that, Lily blinked at him.

Simon shook his head. "If you don't marry me, Lily, you're as good as ruined."

"I

am

ruined," she reminded him with a whisper.

Simon closed the distance between them and tipped her chin back, forcing her to look at him. "Lily love, you are far from ruined. Last night I gave you pleasure; I didn't take your innocence."

She wasn't quite sure what the difference was. She felt the furthest thing from innocent.

"Will has a connection to the Archbishop. He'll leave for Lambeth Palace this morning to acquire a special license, and we'll be married in three days time."

Lily shook out of his hold. "Why don't we have a choice?"

Simon raked a hand through his black hair. "Damn it, Lily! I thought this would make you happy. You were prepared to settle for Emory Hawthorne or one of the other dolts from last night."

Not really. Not that she could tell him how much he'd hurt her with his offer. "That was different."

He glared at her. Lily had never expected to receive an offer of marriage from anyone. She didn't have lands, connections, or money to offer a prospective husband. If she had ever let the stray thought enter her mind, Simon's proposal was far from what dreams were made of. There were no declarations of love, no looks of adoration, nor promises for a happy future.

She was already a poor relation. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a loveless marriage. She'd seen that with Daniel and Emma, and had no desire to live in one herself. Not that there wasn't love on her side; there was. But Simon obviously didn't return the sentiment, and she didn't think she could face a lifetime with him, knowing he never really wanted her. That she was an obligation.

If her heart wasn't already broken, this would certainly have done the job.

"Look," Simon began gruffly, "I wish it could be different, Lily. Really, I do. You're better off without me, but there isn't a better solution."

She didn't believe that. "Why?" she asked skeptically.

"Because word has gotten out that you've been living here with me."

"But I only came to speak to you about Oliver, as you couldn't be bothered to return a letter."

"It's no matter. You're a young, unmarried woman staying under my roof without a proper chaperone."

"Young?" She snorted. "Heavens, Simon, I'm almost twenty-four. I'm Oliver's spinster aunt. I don't need a chaperone."

One black eyebrow arched. "You are hardly a spinster. Not one man last night thought so."

They hadn't wanted her either. They were after her funds, or Simon's funds, as the case may be. She didn't realize she was crying until Simon brushed a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

"Why would you consider marriage to that pack of fools, but not to me?" he asked softly.

Lily's eyes flashed up to him. He was the only man she'd ever wanted in any way, shape, or form. "Because you don't want me."

His arms snaked around her waist, and he pulled her length against his. She could feel his arousal through her skirts, and heat crept up her face.

"Certainly you can feel how much I want you."

"For a tumble, for an arrangement. You don't want to

marry

me, Simon."

"I never wanted to marry anyone, Lily. If things were different, if I was different, it would be another situation all together, but I am who I am. Somehow we'll find a way to make it work."

"What about your lifestyle?"

He blanched. "We'll find a way to make it work," he repeated.

"Simon—" she began, but he placed his finger on her lips, silencing her.

The intensity of his grey eyes pierced her, and Lily lost her breath. She did want him. He was offering respectability and his name, if not his heart. Perhaps that would come. She prayed it would.

Lily nodded her consent.

***

Simon thought his heart was going to leap out of his chest, right up to the moment she nodded her head. When she finally nodded her acquiescence, he was sure he looked like a besotted fool. Surely she would turn her head and laugh at him any moment. But he couldn't be romantic, could he? He had to let her believe his offer of marriage was simply to protect her reputation. But it was far from that.

Well, it was partly that. He could already imagine the society pages when the scavengers reported that someone had finally shackled the Duke of Blackmoor. He was notorious for his escapades; he'd spent years cultivating his image, after all. He could only imagine how Lily would feel when the gossipmongers began to speculate about an eight-month baby. They might even make wagers in the London clubs about how long it would be before a blessed event would occur. Even though he and Lily hadn't been intimately involved, she would be slaughtered by their poisonous pens.

Simon turned away from Lily and scrubbed a hand across his face. How best to protect her?

"Is something wrong, Simon?"

"No, no, Lily," he said, suddenly distracted by his wayward thoughts. "Nothing is wrong."

"Simon," she said as she laid her delicate little hand on his chest. "You don't

have to

marry me." His heart sped up beneath her touch.

"Oh, I do," he murmured, already feeling aroused from her innocent touch.

"I can survive a bit of scandal…" she started.

"There is no need, Lily."

"I can't imagine forcing you into something you don't want to do." She turned away from him. Then she spun back quickly. "Will you hate me?"

"I can't imagine anyone hating you," he said, tipping her chin up with his finger. "And you will make a perfectly beautiful duchess."

"Oh, my, Simon." She smiled. "I almost forgot about that part."